#i get glasses so she gets glasses it is quite simple

[thelightsandtheroses]

everywhere, everything | jm x female reader [au]

Summary: In recent months, the bar your family has owned for generations has changed. Now it can't keep a bouncer beyond one shift, attracts the 'wrong' crowd, and is an albatross around you and your cousin's neck. Your cousin's latest hire, Joel Miller, seems like he might just survive the shift and as time passes, you can't help but want to know him more. AKA the Bouncer!Joel fic Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence, RoadHouseBouncer!Joel AU, no outbreak, no specified age but reader has a cousin and inferred (not detailed) family deaths in the past, flirting, smut (p in v, and fingering), Joel Miller is his chaotic self, mentions of death of a child (canon), many scenes set in a bar and mentions of alcohol or drinking, your standard lolabee flangst and introspection, reader mentions music, singing and playing guitar. Notes: So much love for this fic goes to @trulybetty for encouraging my ideas and @rhoorl. Watching the new Road House movie at the same time as starting TLOU games created this concept in my head I couldn't let go of. Fic title from the Noah Kahan song of the same name.

It’s starting to weigh on you.

You see it in your cousin more though; the weariness in her eyes as the local gangs come in and inevitably cause trouble. Both of you know where it comes from, the reasons behind it, why it’s so much worse for your roadhouse than anywhere else in the town.

Most days, you want to leave and sell up. Sometimes a fight is too much, it isn’t worth the cost, there’s too high a loss, too tiresome a battle. Everything your cousin possesses is tied up in the bar though. It’s not that simple for her and you won’t walk away from your family. You can’t.

The two of you cannot be the ones who let decades of your family’s legacy just wash away to nothing.

That was why your cousin had started with the bouncers in the first place. The two of you can only afford one, but it’s a small building, a small town.

“This one will be different,” your cousin says with a firm nod and smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just know he will. He’s new in town, he starts tonight and he - when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.”

You don’t say that she said the same thing about the last bouncer - what was his name? Dave, or Frankie, or something like that. You’ve stopped learning their names now - it’s pointless when they never last longer than a few days.

The bar is still quiet; tinny music coming through the speakers as you finish unloading the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“Are you playin’ tonight?” she asks.

“Might do. If the crowd let me,” you say, smiling at your cousin gently. It’s a joke now; the bar hasn’t been safe enough in months for that.

It used to be your favourite thing about this place; the music, the ability to perform songs and transport yourself to what could have been, what could be. It might not be Nashville, or the Sofi stadium, but it’s the closest you think you’ll ever get to feeling like a real musician. And now you don’t even have that.

“Good, they will. It’s going to be a good one tonight, you’ll see.”

The new bouncer is called Joel but your cousin calls him by his surname: Miller.

He’s quiet, not like the other one. Instead of stalking around and flexing, Miller sits in the corner of the bar, perched on a stool and staring into a cup of coffee as though it would answer all his queries about the universe.

You feel bad about the coffee; you should have warned him that it’s truly awful, pointed him in the direction of the small diner ten minutes away that serves some of the best coffee in the whole state. You think your own coffee isn’t too bad either; perfected and tweaked over years to figure out the perfect combination of beans and grind to bring the best out of your worn moka pot.

“Next time, I’d go for water,” you say lightly as you approach his side of the bar. It’s still quiet for this time of the evening but the trouble doesn’t usually start until after ten anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sure we can even legally call this coffee. I think there’s more caffeine in the Kahlua.”

“You have Kahlua?” Miller asks.

“It’s a very old bottle, I really wouldn’t risk it.” You try and remember the last time someone ordered a drink with it here but it’s hazy. The Bar doesn’t exactly attract people for its cocktail list anymore.

“Pity.”

“I can get you a water if you’d prefer. Or something else?”

“It’s fine.” You notice Miller has pushed the cup slightly away from him though. He eyes it with mild disgust and you feel suddenly even more worried for him. If he can’t handle the coffee, he surely won’t be able to handle the patrons.

“You’re Joe, right?”

“Joel,” he corrects instantly.

“Joel, right. Sorry.”

“Are there that many of us passin’ through, that you don’t learn the names properly now? Is that why your boss calling me Miller?” He doesn’t know who you are, that’s clear. He doesn’t know it’s your family’s legacy here too and you’re not just a bartender. This place matters to you.

“It’s only your first shift.”

Joel sighs and meets your gaze. His eyes are deep brown and you take in the slight salt and pepper to his stubble, the surprisingly comfortable looking plaid flannel he’s wearing. At the same time, you notice the stoniness in his posture, the wariness in his eyes.

He isn’t spoiling for a fight because he lives for them, not like the other bouncers your cousin has hired.

You’ve already realised that Joel Miller fights in an entirely differently way to his predecessors. You can tell his biggest battles aren’t the ones in a bar like this. Without projecting too much, you think they’re probably inside his mind. No one has haunted eyes like that without a story. You’re a bartender, you can just tell.

“What have you have been told about this gig? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I know this place has some troubles,” he says carefully.

“I’ll say.”

You remember when things were different in the town, in the bar. It wasn’t like this back then. It used to be for families. Your aunt once joked that your dad’s cooking could bring the entire town together. It’s been a long time since the place was known for a family meal though.

You grew up with laughter and joy inside these walls. Now, it feels like it must have happened somewhere else entirely. This bar is still where you ran in after being asked on your first date ever, where you opened your SAT results, studied while the bar was closed, had every family significant gathering or event you can remember.

This isn’t just a job for you.

“How long have you been here? No offence, but you don’t seem the type -”

“It’s my family’s bar. Your boss you mentioned, she’s my cousin. The two of us run it these days, well I mean, I only help out. It’s her bar now more than mine but it’s been our family’s place for generations. We’re what’s left.” All that’s left.

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course, Miller.” His words weren’t meant with offence but he had still managed to pick at your vulnerability that you don’t truly belong and cut at your soul.

Your family never thought you’d keep up with the bar, your cousin was the clear front runner to inherit it and you supported that. You wanted to leave your hometown, that had never been a secret and your childhood bedroom had been covered in posters and postcards for exciting and different places.

Once, you dreamt of Nashville, of music venues and guitar calloused hands playing idle melodies as a tour bus drove you to your next city across a starlit sky.

Life had different plans for you thought.

“This town didn’t used to be like this,” you add, “We’ve had a lot of bad luck and - the whole town is suffering. You wouldn’t have recognised this place if you passed through even just a few years ago.”

”I’m -“

The door to the bar crashes open before Joel can finish his sentence. You notice the first of the regular troublemakers walking in and warily look around the bar. You can tell by their posture, the look on their face exactly what type of night it’s going to be.

“Looks like your work will be getting started soon, Miller. I’d drink up.”

He might just survive his first shift. That’s annoying - you have five bucks counting on him either walking out or be stretchered out like any of the bouncers by the end of the night.

You try and pay attention to your surroundings. It’s sensible in your line of work. For so many people that line between a good night and becoming the worst version of themselves is wafer thin and you’re often the first line of defence, you’re the one who has to say when someone’s not being served anymore.

Your cousin is in the back office, trying to sort out the multitude of paperwork that comes with owning a bar or business that nobody ever thinks about.

He’s calm, polite even for the most part.

He doesn’t escalate the situation, not like some of the bouncers who have spent a shift here recently. Mostly he sits and observes. His calmness is almost disconcerting and contrasts sharply with the danger in his posture, the readiness to move he’s concealing.

There hasn’t been too much trouble so far tonight; a mild fight which was easily taken outside but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Can I get ‘nother whiskey?” Robert slurs. He’s a regular to the bar now and has a particular penchant for not being able to handle his alcohol, being very resentful at being cut off, and worse of all never has enough money to cover his bill or damages.

“I think you’re done for tonight,” you say lightly.

“Nah, I say when I’m done.”

“Not according to the liquor licence,” you snark back.

“Look, just pour me -”

“You’re done.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Robert slams his fist down on the bar.

“I think it’s time to go,” Joel says politely, suddenly standing next to Robert in the bar. You’re not sure if he’ll last as a bouncer here but you’ll give him points for stealthiness. You hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“I think -“ Robert starts before pulling a sloppy punch. Joel easily dodges it, raising his eyebrow incredulously at Robert.

“C’mon, now, it’s time to go.”

He places a hand on Robert’s shoulder and guides him out. You’re struck that he didn’t escalate the situation - that was the last bouncer’s mistake. What he hadn’t counted on was what Robert is a mean drunk and often gets a second wind of energy.

Joel walks back up to you at the bar. “The way people talk about this place. That wasn’t so -“

“That, Miller, that was nothing.”

You watch as another troublemaker, Owen, walks in, all biker vest and swagger. It’s never a good night when he’s here. Usually his presence signals a full moon style night of fights, shouting and misery. He hasn’t been in for weeks to your joy; you’d heard a rumour he was in jail. Not any more though.

“Miller you see now the trouble’s really going to start. That wasn’t even your warmup.”

Sunlight streams through the window as you finish wiping over the table. It’s your favourite time of day in the bar. Your cousin is catching up on admin, sleep and supplier deliveries, the bar is empty and it’s just you, the stereo and sunlight.

You can’t help but lose yourself in the music just for a moment. You love this song, the beat, the lyrics, the way it ebbs and flows in all the right places. Music is magic.

You’re not in a rundown bar, not weighed down by obligation and memories and self-doubt. You’re not here, you’re somewhere else. In a city, in a crowd, on a stage or even just dancing around somewhere else. You’re lighter and freer and desperate for the song to continue just a little more as you spin around, humming along with the lyrics.

You hear the door open and turn around quickly. You heard about the diner getting robbed a couple of weeks ago. You should have locked the door.

Miller’s there, some light discolouration to his jaw from the one punch he didn’t dodge, but otherwise intact.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says.

“You’ve cost me five bucks,” you reply simply.

He raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think I could hack it*?*”

“The odds are the odds.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your money.”

“Yep, that five bucks was my ticket out of this town,” you joke.

“Not sure that would even cover a bus ticket,” he replies dryly.

“Maybe the coffee for on the bus?”

“Maybe.”

“So, day two,” you say awkwardly, swinging your arms around you and then immediately wondering why on earth you did that. You busy yourself by turning down the speakers.

“Yep,” Miller says casually, sitting on a bar stool.

“Have - are you hungry?” you ask, suddenly conscious that it’s lunchtime and Joel not doubt has another difficult day ahead.

“I could eat.”

”It’s nothing fancy, because the kitchen’s not open, but it is homemade - well, it was. I froze it but it’s defrosted and it’s really good. Also, frozen food still retains its nutrients well, and in the case of cake, freezing it makes it even better.”

“I see.” Miller pauses, “It’s not cake, is it? I don’t think I can eat frozen cake before a shift. ”

“No,” you argue, “it’s Tuesday, that’s what we’d do on a Wednesday! Today it’s lasagne.”

Miller smiles then. It’s a good smile. Slightly crooked and his eyes crease a little, the way you always associate someone smiling when they mean it. His deep eyes are momentarily lighter, there’s a change in him.

You want to tease more smiles out of this man, want to identify each and every changed in his face or the way his hands tap against the old bar. You want to keep him like this, bask in the glow that you’ve bought that expression to his face.

“Lasagne sounds great,” he says after a moment.

“Sure, okay, Miller. Coming right up.”

“Call me Joel. Please.”

“Okay, Joel.”

You like how his name sounds against your teeth, the way he smiles once more when you say his name.

It becomes a habit. Joel survives shift after shift and inevitably turns up to the bar early the following day when you’re there.

He’s lasted longer than fourteen bouncers now. He might just make it. He’s quiet, yes, but you’ve seen the violence in his movements when needed, the way he tries to be polite and then it’s over, then it’s a line. There’s something that compels and terrifies you about the violence he holds, its contradiction because he speaks to you so softly and how can a man be capable of both?

“You need a second bouncer,” he says one morning as you’re trying and failing to sort the back door out.

The employee room in the bar is a barely functioning space. Cliche after cliche with the cheap red IKEA futon, mismatching furniture and chairs and elderly microwave and kettle. The air conditioning has never worked in the room and now the back door is jammed too.

The place is falling apart.

“Can’t afford it,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re doing our best.”

“I know. But then someone could try and watch at the door, stop some of these people coming in.”

“I know. But no one’s coming in because they’re there so we can’t afford a bouncer. It’s uh, a catch 22. Can’t even afford to replace the damn -” You shove your weight against the door to no avail.

“I can fix that,” Joel says softly as you kick the door one more time.

“The gangs? That’s ambitious.”

“The door.”

“Oh, it’s just the weather and it always gets stuck now. Replacing it would cost-”

“I can fix it. I uh, used to be a contractor.”

“A contractor?” Joel hasn’t talked about his past much before. You know he has a brother, he’s the oldest and that he’s from Texas. Joel carries that

“Did you have to say that with the air of a cowboy in an old movie?”

“I wasn’t aware I did,” he replies, cocking his eyebrow in a way.

“What sort of contractor were you?”

“Building, just the general type.”

“Oh, okay. So you could actually fix the door?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“How do you get from contractor to bouncer?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so.”

Joel squirms awkwardly. You’ve watched him easily apprehend aggressive gang members shouting the vilest things to Joel and move them outside. You’ve seen him barely blink over ill drunks spilling their souls on his shoes. You’ve seen him so strong and resolute.

He looks at his watch which, for the first time, you notice is broken and then at the ground.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you say, “you don’t need to tell me anymore.”

He keeps coming back, night after night and things start to change. It’s small, a fixed door and then a window catch replaced, the fact the gangs start coming around less. It’s change but the quiet type of change you only discover through previously entrenched routines.

You’ve spent time cataloguing his details, each scar or line, the way he takes his coffee (black, but a two to one ratio of sugar that makes you wince a little). Joel Miller has a sweet tooth.

You’re used to Joel now, you like talking to him in quiet moments in the bar, before or after shifts as he hangs around just a little longer. You tell him about the town, about how it was growing up, he lets it slip he’s from Texas, mentions a brother, Tommy, and you want to unpeel his secrets more and more.

You proudly place the slab of cake in front of him. Rain hammers against the windows and roof, creating great echoes as it sounds like the bar will come down around you. It’s unseasonal, the rain, an omen of quiet days. Today you don’t mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Joel asks, looking at the cake curiously.

“It’s a Wednesday.” You take a bite of your own slice, savouring the flavours, the delicate balance of sponge and icing. If you can say so, it’s a pretty great cake. You really have improved over recent months and while this was experimental, you’re happy with the result.

“Ah. Say no more.”

“Also, congrats, you’ve officially been here for eight and half weeks.”

“I pass probation then?” Joel looks around dubiously, clearly concerned your cousin or others will suddenly pop out in some surprise party or sense of occasion.

“Pretty much passed that by coming back on day two, but that’s my cousin’s domain. I just pour drinks.”

“And provide frozen food to the bouncers.”

“Only the ones who come back. Besides, it’s defrosted. I can take that cake back you know.”

“No, don’t you dare.” Joel takes a large forkful of the cake. “So why the cake though, sweetheart?”

“You, Joel Miller, are officially our longest standing bouncer.” You clap lightly in mock celebration as he cocks an eyebrow in response.

“What an honour,” he replies sardonically.

”You’re welcome.”

“Do I need to make a speech?”

“I think it was the speech that bought the previous record holder down.” Clint had lasted forty-five minutes after that speech. It was a bad night - a particularly nasty gang fight.

“Hubris,” Joel says lightly.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad for a contractor turned bouncer though.”

Joel laughs. “You going to tell me that story one day?” you ask, hoping your teasing expression hides how genuine your question is.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’ve not hit my records yet.”

“That a challenge?”

He shrugs and walks towards the door to ready the bar for opening.

You hand Joel the frozen peas wrapped in an old cloth. After the commotion, your cousin’s closed the bar early. It’s hard to recover the night from a scene like that and you’re pretty sure the broken table and glass amount to some sort of safety violation at the least.

“Thanks,” Joel says gruffly.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Joel looks at his cracked knuckles and raises a finger to the cut on his head, lightly touching it and observing the blood that comes away on his hand. “’m fine.”

“You hit the bar.”

“Standard night on the job.”

“You hit it with your head.”

Joel shrugs, nonchalance and mischief at once.

“How’s the idiot?” Owen had come in with the intention of causing trouble; something about the rival gang, or his girlfriend, or something that would never justify his trail of destruction. Joel had maintained his usual rules; polite, carefully moving Owen outside the bar, even as he tried to fight back. You’re not sure how it went so wrong, how instead of getting Owen outside suddenly there were more of the gang, broken tables and chaos.

It’s been weeks since a night like that. It makes it feel brand new, the hurt starker somehow.

“He needs to go to hospital,” you say, wrapping your jacket around you after you lock the bar door, keys heavy in your hand.

“Oh.”

“He’ll be fine. His friends are taking him. You probably need the hospital too, I’ll drive you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. Get in the damn car, Joel.”

“I’m -”

“The car, Joel. Don’t make me start calling you Miller again.”

Joel holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” you say with a sweet smile.

You drive in near silence but once you’re both in the hospital waiting room, he talks. He talks more than he ever usually does.

“I didn't need to come here,” he grumbles.

“Are you on the lam?”

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“You seem reluctant to be in a hospital that takes down personal information. It’s a reasonable question.”

He sighs, pinches between his eyebrows. “No, I’m not on the damn lam. I just - I just don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do. I guess it’s an occupational habit with your work.”

“I patch myself up usually. Last time I was in one of these places, it was … I was …”

“Joel, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You reach for his bloody hand and squeeze, unsure if the blood on it is from his own split knuckles or the fight. The violence of his body contrasts so much with the man you talk to, the friend you’ve made.

“When I told you it was a long story, how I went from a contractor to this … it’s, I don’t know.”

You shift so you can face Joel and try and model your best supportive expression. Joel and you talk about everything now, but he’s guarded and this is the first time he’s volunteered this story to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I had a daughter,” he says so quietly that you can barely hear him. “And then I had a chance, a second chance to - but it’s been a mess. I’ve been a mess. I’ve got a lot wrong.”

So much of Joel Miller makes sense to you know and you can understand the sadness that crosses his eyes sometimes, the reluctance to talk about his past.

“Haven’t we all?” You pause. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, Joel.“

“I don’t know how to make it right now though.”

“I think,” you say gently, “all you can do is try. For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference here, you’re making a difference with me.”

“Really?” He glances up at you, suddenly years younger and as you nod a slight smile light up his face briefly.

“Why don’t you tell me about her? If you want to.”

He smiles. “I do, but not tonight, but I will.”

“Joel Miller,” a doctor calls.

“C’mon, you’re up.” You squeeze Joel’s arm before standing up.

The balance has shifted and something’s changed.

The bar changes gradually like the way spring teases itself for weeks. It’s all subtle shifts, blossoms of hope and shoots of a future you didn’t dare think of too much. The bar might survive, your cousin is smiling again.

And then there’s you and Joel. Joel, who still pops in to talk to you even on his days off. Joel, who you sit out with after the bar closes and drink beer and play guitar to the stars.

“You should play here,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “you’re good.” “You’re better. I can’t play guitar like you.” “Nah. Just had more practice at best. Your voice is pretty, so pretty.” “Oh, I’m not so good at playing. I’m better at singing,” you say. “Four basic chords are about my limit on the guitar.” “Don’t do yourself down.” “Trust me, I’m not.” You pause. ”Joel, you could - you could play with me. If I ever played here. it’s probably stupid.” There’s something unreadable in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’d like that.”

You’re accustomed to his presence, his low but grounding voice, his calm demeanour throughout all chaos.

He’s told you more about his past now. About Sarah and how her loss tore him apart for years, and also about the foster daughter he took in, Ellie. He won’t tell you much about Ellie though, except they stopped talking around about the time he became a bouncer. He once asked you if you would do anything to save the life of someone you love and you said yes. He nodded and moved on. You think it’s connected, you’re not sure.

You’ve worked at a bar long enough to know when it’ll be a bad night. There’s an electricity in the air, a tension that is so tight anything could snap it. You look over at Joel to see if he’s picked up on the same energy.

He’s sitting on the stool, observing quietly, but you notice the slight furrow in his brows. He looks at you and his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles, but there’s anxiety in his eyes.

“I heard that Owen’s gang declared war on the Rattlers,” you say in a low voice. You don’t like Owen, or his friends, but the Rattlers are worst. Owen’s gang is the typical cliched grouping of a small town that’s become lost. They drink too much, throw punches without thinking and cause trouble. They’re not evil though.

The Rattlers are.

“Didn’t hear the Rattlers came through here,” Joel says in a low voice. “I heard of their reputation at a previous gig.”

“Their uh, second in command, is that the term? Anyway, he’s had a thing with someone in town for years. On and off. Guess it’s on again.”

“They cause trouble when they’re here?”

You scoff. “This was starting to feel like -”

“It still is, it still will. Let me do my job,” Joel says firmly.

You want to trust him; you do trust him. It’s the Rattlers that worry you, the feeling in your gut that this hard sought over peace is threatened, the deep and terrifying fear that this bar can never change. Not now. Not even with Joel.

Joel smiles at you, the picture of reassurance. “Owen might not come in here. This is hardly a welcome environment for his group anymore.”

“Joel,” you say nervously, “I just … I have a feeling.”

Joel doesn’t laugh or dismiss you; he straightens up and nods.

You’re not sure how things fall apart so quickly. One moment the bar was quiet, then Owen was there and before Joel could get him to leave, the Rattlers were here too. Maybe it was planned, maybe it was what they all wanted.

“Evening, unfortunately I need to ask you all to leave tonight,” Joel says politely, standing from his barstool. “I’m afraid the business is at capacity and we have a private function on.”

“Well,” Owen begins.

“Leave.”

“Look, Miller, it’s not -”

“I’m not asking, Owen.” Joel’s voice is low, deadly, the tone he uses when polite words fall flat, when it’s time to not be nice. “That goes to all of you.”

Owen falters slightly at the sound of that, you wonder if he remembers how things went the last time Joel used that voice.

“Y’all got a function on?” one of the Rattlers asks you. He’s covered in tattoos and is wearing a leather vest with numerous patches with no other top underneath. You wonder if he based his outfit on the existing tropes, if he’s intentionally as cliched as possible or if it truly is just an unspoken truth now. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that highlights his receding hairline and a puckered scar that runs from his brow to his nose.

“I’m afraid so, gentlemen. While we, uh appreciate the desire to visit, I’m afraid Mr Miller is correct.“”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t look so-”

“Please,” you say quietly.

For a moment you wonder if it will work, you’re on bated breath as the Rattler steps back and moves to say something to his gang. However, that’s the very moment Owen smashes a chair on his back and hell breaks loose.

“Oh, thank you so fucking much for that,” Joel says in an irritated voice, immediately pulled into action to try and get the situation outside, away from the patrons, from you.

You step backwards, hoping the protection of the bar will be enough.

People are running out of the bar as the chaos unfolds. It’s a flood of sound,

Someone pushes Owen onto the bar, pummelling him as you try and back away. “Please stop,” you say.

Then a flash and searing heat.

That’s when you hear Joel swear, you notice his eyes have darkened, his entire demeanour has changed.

Your vision is blurred by something and you can feel a sharp pain on your face along with something sticky and hot when you touch it.

You shut your eyes, willing the events away and allowing yourself to crouch under the bar and wait for the noises to stop.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soothing voice says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise but we do have to close early today.”

There’s a pause, noise around you and then something cool on your face. “I need to see the damage, okay? It’s me, it’s Joel, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel crouched in front of you. He’s holding a damp cloth that is already soaked in red.

“You’ll need stitches, I’ll drive you.” Joel moves your head gently and nods. “Your eye looks okay; can you see normally?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

”Fucking - it was Owen, he grabbed a glass from the bar and instead of hitting the rattler - ”

“Got me.”

“Yeah. It’s deep but um ‘”

“I’ll live. I’m okay. Don’t need hospital.”

“Huh, you trying to prove a point here? How annoyin’ it is when someone who needs hospital won’t go?”

”It’s fine, Joel.”

“You’re hurt,” he says and he looks disappointed.

You feel a burst of shame, you should have defended yourself better.

“I’m going to call your cousin and tell her what happened and then I’m driving you to hospital. No arguments, okay?”

You try and smile weakly in acquiescence which seems to only make Joel frown more.

His hand lingers on your shoulder slightly as he hands you the seatbelt after bundling you into his truck. He moved quickly, closing the bar, making a hushed call in the corner to your cousin and then immediately guiding you out, a clean cloth placed in your hands to hold against your cut.

There’s a nodding dog ornament on the dash, something that doesn’t seem like Joel at all.

“Ellie,” he says quietly as he notices you looking at it. “Keep the pressure on that wound, okay?”

He turns out of the bar.

“Didn’t seem your sort of ornament,” you reply placidly.

“She called it Ernie, I - that kid.” Joel sighs heavily.

“You could call her,” you say, braver in the wake of your injury.

“I would. But she doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me.” He mumbles something else you can’t make out.

“You’re a good person, Joel. She -”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, “trust me, I know bad men, but you aren’t one of them. Owen? The Rattlers?”

“The bar’s pretty damn low there.”

“You know the town I live in.”

Joel chuckles mirthlessly.

“I was going to play tonight,” you say quietly, “I thought it was time. That’ll teach me.”

“You could still play, maybe tomorrow though.”

“It would be harder with the blood right now.”

“Just a tad.”

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course.”

You wonder if he’s trying to return a favour, whether he’s the sort of person who just can’t feel indebted to someone else. Now you’ve bled on his car too, now you’re even?

He looked worried though. You think about the way he sounded too, the forced calmness when he checked on you.

You’re friends.

That’s normal, right?

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You shouldn’t have got hurt.”

“Joel, it’s … you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not on you.”

“I should have -”

“Miller,” you say sharply, “it’s not on you. Not one bit. Do you think I can bar Owen for good now?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon so.

“Good, well that’s something, isn’t it? Almost makes it worth it. Do you think it will scar?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You pause. It’s vanity, you know, but the idea of this leaving a permanent scar on your face hurts worse than the injury itself.

“That’s not ideal. I-it’s stupid.” It feels so foolish to be worried about a scar when things could be so much worse, for your own vanity to say ‘well, now, you’ll never make it as a musician or star’ or to focus on your looks. It’s normal, it’s human, but it makes you feel guilty.

Joel looks at you carefully and he places a warm, solid hand on your hand that is not holding a compress to your face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” he says in a low voice. “This won’t change that. It couldn’t, okay?”

No-one calls you beautiful. There’s been half-hearted claims of your ‘hotness’ with exes, of your friends’ encouragement when you make a particular effort in your appearance, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels this sincere either.

He takes his hand away as the doctor joins you. You can feel the heat lingering like butterflies as the doctor attends to your wound.

Joel stays with you the whole time.

You hear the guitar before you can see him. Soft, melodic chords that reach a crescendo as you walk closer to the small cabin style house he’s renting. You’re not sure if it’s a complete betrayal of the trust from when you dropped him off after his hospital trip weeks ago, but you need to see him outside of the bar.

“Hey,” he says in surprise when he sees you. He places the guitar carefully down before standing up to greet you.

“I’m sorry to just turn up, I hope it’s okay.” You awkwardly clasp your hands and wring them together. “I was passing through and I thought - I thought I’d say hi.”

This is a complete lie; you are not passing through at all.

You’re wearing your favourite outfit and you sprayed an extra two spritzes of your best perfume on this morning. In fact, you have made considerable effort when you think about all of this.

“No, it’s great. I’m happy you stopped by.”

“You’re good. The guitar, it was … really good. I’ve not heard you play that before.”

“Oh, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s really good.”

“Nah, not really.”

You frown, hands on your hips and he raises his own hands in defence.

“Can I - do you want a drink?” Joel indicates inside the cabin and you nod enthusiastically.

“That would be great, thanks Joel.”

There are three cabins in the area that a local businessman rents out. Joel’s cabin is the closest to the woods, the one that’s slightly hidden away. Inside it looks like a typical rental; the slightly shabby furniture and neutral demeanour that feels void of any character, the aged kitchen stove and units, an abundance of wood furniture.

There are touches of Joel too though. There’s a vinyl player and box of records on the coffee table, a plaid blanket over the sofa and a couple of photos on the fireplace mantle. You think they might be Sarah, maybe Ellie, but you don’t want to pry.

This changes things. It’s not the bar, neither of you are at work, or hanging out outside after a shift. This feels more personal, more intimate. This is Joel Miller, the real Joel, the one you can’t hide your feelings for now.

You do have feelings for Joel.

It’s funny, when he started you wanted to keep him at a distance because you expected him to leave like everyone else, you thought the bar was beyond help. You wondered if you were beyond your dreams. He’s helping bring you back though.

It’s his calm demeanour, the wry expressions and dry humour, his plaid shirts and the way when he smiles, which is rare but you’ve seen it, his whole face softens and lightens up. It’s electric.

You think about him all the time; reading articles you try and remember to bring up at the bar, when you hear a song he’d like. Joel’s found his way into your life and you don’t want to let him go.

He’ll leave though. The bouncers inevitably do, most people in your life do. You just don’t want that with him. You want him to stay.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“Why?”

“You have that serious thought face on.”

“I have a serious thought face?”

Joel scoffs. “So, what’s up?”

“I just - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”

Joel frowns then. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, c’mon I said I’d get you a drink, right?” Joel indicates the sturdy wooden table and you sit obligingly. “So I’ve got a choice of tea, well It says it’s tea anyway. Uh, some whiskey, beer, water …. I’m out of coffee.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I might just leave now.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya.”

He’s close to you now and you feel emboldened by the fact you’re here, you’re with him and he’s not pushing you away or looking like he wants to leave. Maybe, just maybe this is a great idea.

“Now I think about it though, I’m not sure that I’m thirsty after all,” you say boldly.

“Oh no?” He leans in closer, hands hovering just over your waist. “Look, you don’t want -”

“I do. I do want.”

Joel swallows. “Really?” He’s looking at you as though you’re something mythical, something intangible he could lose at any second. There’s reverence in his eyes and it’s overwhelming and beautiful at once.

You nod. “I’m not the only one here who - I’m not though, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in your voice now, a sense that perhaps this isn’t the great idea you thought it was just seconds ago. It’s like whiplash. This is why you should just focus on music instead.

“No,” Joel says softly, “you’re not.”

His hands, hands you’ve seen both acts of violence and hold your injured face so gently, skim your body. Joel’s hands, like him, are contradictions. He steps minutely closer, a little more into your space and oh so welcome.

He smells like soap and coffee, with the faint hints of autumn you noticed around the cabin and there’s something magic in this Joel Miller. Something in every sense of him, the way he touches you, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin and sound of his voice that instantly draws you closer, that makes heat pool in your stomach.

He kisses you and you reach for his hands, entwines them together. He stops, concern mounting over his face. “You’re injured, I should have -”

“Doesn’t hurt,” you say softly, drawing him close again.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, a clash of sensations and finally, finally this is happening you think as h guides you further into the cabin. Towards his bedroom.

He guides you past the kitchenette, down the narrow corridor to his room.

You want to drink him in, absorb every detail of his body and commit it to memory.

There’s a ragged scar on his abdomen, a light scattering of stories across his body from other bars, other jobs, other Joels.

There are other details you want to remember though, especially the look in his eyes right now, heavy with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. You’ve heard the words before in similar settings but it’s been clear to you it’s the lust, it’s the ‘right’ thing to say. You know when isn’t meant, the lack sincerity signalling a paint by the numbers dalliance at best.

Joel’s voice is fervent though. Honest. He means this.

The majority of your clothes are soon discarded, both yours and his in a combined mess on the floor.

Your hands are running through his hair as he guides you onto the bed, as his fingers hover over the edge of your underwear.

He pauses, just for a moment. You wonder if it’s recognition of the line you’re both about to cross, if it’s to give you the space to confirm that yes, you still want him, to offer an out just in case.

You reach for his face, run your hand down his stubbly cheek. You’re trying to sum up your thoughts, to bring everything you want to say together into a neat sentence.

You smile and gently say, “I want you, want this. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think you’d want me. Been driving myself crazy thinkin’ about you lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you ask.

He smiles as his fingers finally reach beneath your underwear, carefully pulling them down and then gently gliding his finger.

You’re wet, almost embarrassingly so, you think, for just making out.

“This all for me?” He asks with a devilishly teasing tone.

You don’t immediately answer, just smirk as he teases up to your clit and traces circles around it, smiling as you finally make a groan of contentment.

He slides a finger inside you, lazily moving it within you, finding that spot that makes you moan, adding another finger.

You feel close already, but he withdraws his fingers and then, looking at you, brings them to his mouth one at a time in a move that makes your cheeks heat up.

He moves to his bedside drawer, fumbling for a box of condoms you suppose. You’re still lost in catching your breath, in replaying the last few moments, in anticipating what’s about to happen.

He kisses you before positioning himself and you ready yourself for him.

You’re entwined, adjusting yourself for the feel of him, the weight of him. Hands interlocked with his as he finally moves, as he meets your kiss once again.

He adapts quickly, noticing micro=movements or sounds and changing his rhythm to draw every one of them out, to bring you to the edge once more.

You’re both a mess of rushed breaths, a chorus of names and gasps, ebbing and flowing to tease each other apart.

He’s everything and nothing like you expected. Hoped for even.

The feeling builds in your stomach, the rush of pleasure building almost unbearably.

Finally, finally you get your release. The ripples of pleasure ride through your body as the two of you lie together, boneless, catching your breath.

You usually feel a need to say something, to fill a silence, but it’s comfortable. You roll over, daringly placing an arm over Joel’s chest and leaning close. He pulls you towards you, kissing your brow lazily

You can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.

You feel like you could stay here forever.

Instead though, you’re practical. You excuse yourself to his bathroom to clean up.

You take in your reflection; the telltale signs of your exploits feel so visible to you as you freshen up.

He’s not in bed when you return. You pull your clothes on and head back into the main room of the cabin.

Joel’s wearing his jeans and not much else, humming as he concentrates on something by the stove.

“I promised tea, didn’t I?”

“We did get sidetracked.”

“Well, that was welcome,” Joel says. His voice is so much softer than you’ve heard it in the bar. There’s a vulnerability leaking through with each moment you stay here. It’s two sided, you can feel your own edges softening, a desire to open yourself even more to the man in front of you.

“I agree.”

The kettle boils and you watch Joel making the tea, try and not lose yourself in the broadness of his shoulders.

“So …” you break off, swinging your arms nervously and then wrapping them around yourself.

Joel hands you a steaming mug. “So,” he says. His voice is calm though, relaxed and somehow that helps.

“That wasn’t exactly ”

“Would you have been wearing a trench coat?”

“That a fantasy or something, Joel?”

He laughs. “Maybe, maybe it is.”

“Okay then. Logging that for another day.”

“Oh really?” Joel’s smile warms his entire face, it softens each feature and it’s something you never want to stop seeing.

It feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You feel comfortable in his house, you feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re opening back up at the weekend,” you say, “Got any plans for this time off?”

“Nope. You?”

You shake your head. “How about that?”

“Hmm, that’s not right. We should do something about that. Let me take you to dinner?”

“Dinner?“

“People still do that, right?”

“Yes, but - I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll uh, defer to your recommendation, seeing as you know this area more.” It hits you then. Joel doesn’t have roots here and the bar, except for the Rattlers, has improved. What does this town, what do you have to offer?

“Are you going to leave?” you ask suddenly, the anxious thought you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.

“Leave?”

“When the bar’s open, when there’s no trouble.”

“There’s always some trouble.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

Joel sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “Usually, I would.”

“But this isn’t usual?”

He points his hand at you and adds, “I don’t make a habit of this. I don’t …. Usually, yes I go in and out of places and I don’t stay long.”

Your heart sinks. “I understand,” you lie.

“I think, I think maybe there are some reasons to stick around here though?” It’s a question, not a confirmation. It strikes you then that maybe Joel feels just as exposed as you do.

“I think there could be,” you say.

“Good. I’m glad.“

The bar looks like the Rattlers never came through here. Everything is neat, clean and in its place. There are no broken chairs or tables. It seems almost impossible for how short a time ago it was.

Joel helped, you realise, he helped your cousin bring this place back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “I can cover the bar if you need -”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure.”

You pause and run your hand over the smooth, clean bar surface. You think of Joel, of the conversations over so many nights about music, about what makes you happy. “Can you still cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” Your cousin pauses and hesitantly puts down the crate of soda bottles. “Is everything -”

“I want to play tonight.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to stop waiting right for the right moment, right? Just do it,” you say.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain bouncer?”

“No,” you say, thinking of the scar on your face, the battles you’ve won and will win in the future. “It’s for me.”

You can feel his eyes on you. It doesn’t make you feel nervous or under a spotlight though as you carefully sit on the stool.

It’s almost as though it’s just the two of you. Another night after work under the stars and messing around with a guitar. Or outside his cabin, thick flannel wrapped around you as you both play.

The bar feels safer somehow. It’s funny considering the recent Rattlers attack. Maybe that’s why - they came in and they tried to wreck the place, you were caught in that crossfire, but you survived. The bar survived. And the locals are back, the locals you wanted back. If you shut your eyes, it almost feels like before when your family ran the place.

It’s different though, because it’s your cousins. Because even though it might not be on paper, it’s yours too. Your legacy. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You don’t want to feel cynical about this town.

You look at Joel and smile and then you start playing.

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us

[rapidhighway]

um, yeah, hi, this post has changed me

#what this design i dont knowwww i just felt like it hehe #amy rose #sonic #sonic the hedgehog fanart #art #i get glasses so she gets glasses it is quite simple #hihihi #lalalalalalalala! #fanart #digital art #doodle

[lungfuls]

since my mom moved out I've thought from time to time about why exactly I was so hurt by her when I can't even remember most of the actual things she said/did to me when she was angry (just that they happened and I hated her for it). I ask myself if it's useful to continue to care about it or if it's possible to totally divorce myself from it and be someone who doesn't feel wounded. on the ride home from NY M's mom and I were talking about my concerns about being like my mom/my son turning out like I did and the similarities between her daughter who is kind of estranged from the family and my mom. she said that it hurts her daughter's kids to see her fucked up, which she doesn't hide from them, and that they feel like there's no point behaving well because their mom will find something to lose her shit about anyway. that was enlightening for me bc that's exactly how my mom was... it was nice to hear someone say that that sort of behavior is hurtful

#and everyone in m's family drinks a lot which has had me wondering why i resented my mom for it so much #bc they're all really close like there is no resentment between parents and children in their family #and she said it's bc none of them ever saw their parents fucked up or giving up #like yeah m knew his mom always had alcohol at home and drank often but he also saw her working 3 jobs #and when she quit 2 of them he saw that it was bc she was being promoted at work #same w/ her dad she said he literally always had a glass of wine in hand but she can't recall him ever being drunk. + he provided for them #compared to my mom who quit working and let my dad pay 2 households' bills and spent all day getting drunk talking on astrology forums #like that's why there was no respect between us it's not just the simple fact of her drinking

[nachojaehyun]

head so good, she a honor roll

pairing. idol wonu + new staff! fem! reader

summary. if wonwoo had to describe his new stylist in one word, it would be unpredictable. i mean, who would have known you were this good at sucking his soul?

warnings. [PLEASE READ] oral (m), light throat fucking, messy/sloppy head, the best head he had EVER received, wonu wears glasses, teasing, he almost cries, mentions of past sexual encounters, THICK dick wonu, no gag reflex queen reader — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. jeon wonwoo, you genuinely deserve the best head in the universe. thank you for existing king.

wonwoo felt like he was going to pass out.

the tides of pleasure were overwhelming him, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bit his lip to subdue his noises.

initially, he hadn’t thought much of you at all. when PD Na announced that a new staff member was joining the Seventeen crew, wonwoo could only clap and bow as you entered the room.

you were pretty— he’d give you that. your features were pleasant to the eye, and the thick framed glasses you adorned on your first day made him smile.

he was happy to know that he wasn’t the only one who was batshit blind in the room.

you were his stylist. of course you had taken him to get his color analysis done, taken him to multiple stores across Seoul, brought him piles of clothes for performances and off duty days.

you were his stylist. of course you had seen him almost naked, but you had never bat an eye at him, only instructing him to “wear his clothes faster.”

you were his stylist. of course you had first hand experience in the most embarrassing encounter in jeon wonwoo’s career— you had seen his dick rip out from a pair of very tight slacks. you still remained stoic, carefully asking him to take his pants off as you went to search for another pair. he was red in the face, cock half hard as he tightly fisted the curtain of the changing room in shame.

you were his stylist. so why on earth were you sucking his cock like your life depended on it?

wonwoo swears he didn’t know how it happened. you had texted him half an hour ago that you were going to drop off some clothes at his apartment before his fitting tomorrow.

it was supposed to be a simple exchange— you would give him the bag and you would leave.

but of course he had his phone silenced and didn’t see your notification.

of course he was sitting on the living room couch, fisting his length in his hand as he tried to relieve the tension in his muscles from dancing for 4 hours straight.

of course he forgot to lock the door to his apartment while he was blatantly moaning like a whore—

here you were, mouth dragging along his tip as you looked up at him through your long lashes, glassy eyes blinking innocently. the bag of clothes you had brought to him was long discarded, laying limp on the floor near his coffee table.

the grey contacts you had on make wonwoo shiver, whimpering as your tongue swirled around his tip.

“fuck baby, quit playin,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair as he watched you down his cock like a champ. wonwoo’s glasses were sitting at the edge of his nose, lenses fogging up.

his hand reached out to fist your hair in a makeshift ponytail, mouth falling into a near pornographic growl as he felt your hands fondle his balls.

his cock was unbelievably thick. your jaw was nearly falling slack. however, the salty taste of his precum was far too addicting for you to care about your own discomfort.

you hollowed your cheeks, trying to feel every ridge and every vein that his pretty cock had to offer. you pulled him out of your mouth soon after, placing kisses along his side as you suckled on his tip.

your free hand came to jerk off his base, spitting onto his leaky tip to use as lube, adding more pressure as his eyebrows scrunched.

“ ’m close— hah!” he whined, tears coating his lashes as you took him in with no warning.

unable to hold himself back, wonwoo harshly yanked your head back, rolling his hips into your mouth. you moaned at his rough treatment, sending vibrations that tightened the knot in his stomach.

“shit shit shit!” wonwoo grunted, feeling his dick weigh down on your tongue that continued to lick and torture him while he used your mouth as his personal fleshlight.

you could feel him twitch inside you.

to give him the final push over the edge, you lazily dragged your freshly manicured nails gently against his balls, cupping the two as he emptied inside your mouth.

wonwoo’s hips stuttered as his thighs shook, feeling ropes of his cum spurt into your open mouth.

he pulled out slightly, jerking off to give you the rest of him. you simply sat on the floor, wagging your tongue, catching every drop of his seed. as soon as you swallowed his release without any question, wonwoo felt himself getting hard again.

wordlessly, you wiped your mouth of the drool that had dribbled past your lips. pushing your weight from your thighs, you glanced at your wristwatch before smiling.

“see you at 8 tomorrow, wonwoo-ssi. don’t be late.”

with that, jeon wonwoo watched you wave him goodbye and walk out the door.

his mind was blown as he breathed out softly, still coming down from the best orgasm he ever had in his life.

sure, he had been blown before. but most girls were too scared to keep him in for more than a few minutes, complaining that their jaw hurt from his sheer length and thickness.

but you? dear god, you and your perfect self never complained, silently taking his cock in your mouth. you didn’t care about your own pleasure, mind consumed by the man wearing glasses in front of you, shock written all over his features.

“fucking hell, what is she doing to me?” wonwoo groaned, fisting his once again hardened member as he begin to circle his tip with a thumb.

he felt sensitive from his last high, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene all over again— wondering how many positions he could bend you over in.

if only he knew that you were in your car, fingers curling inside your folds as you moaned out his name. his cock had moulded your throat.

click here for part 2

© nachojaehyun, 2024

#wonwoo #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt #svt x reader #svt x you #nachojaehyun #seventeen hard hours #seventeen smut drabbles #seventeen drabbles #seventeen thoughts #svt hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts #kpop

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Seven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.8k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Brief suggestive content, sex dream. Mentions of domestic violence, stalking. Hospital setting, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Mentions of stress and weight loss. Soft dads. Little bit of flirting. Simon is... Simon. You get caught in a spell.

Johnny knows this is a dream. 

It’s an odd thing, to be conscious of it, to know you’re dreaming but still unable to control your actions. It’s like watching a movie of yourself, but also being yourself, directing your body without having a say in what it’s doing. 

He knows this is a dream, because you’re in it. You’re in their home, in one of Simon’s oversized sweatshirts, boy shorts rucked up over the little lightning bolts that arc across your hips, the underside of your cheeks. You’re smiling at him too, like you belong in there, like it’s yours too, and his heart swells, growing to a preposterous size.

“There’s my bunny.” He pulls you into his chest, mouthing up your neck and over your jaw. Your skin tastes like sugar, and when he gets to your lips, his hands shift, sliding down your back to grab two fistfuls of your ass with a groan. “Missed ye.” 

“We missed you too.” His fingers trace the edge of your panty line, barely dipping into where you drip for him. “Come to bed, Si’s waiting.” You whisper, stifling a moan. 

“Johnny.” Simon calls him, too loudly. He wants to hiss, snap at him about not waking the baby. “Johnny!”

His eyes blink open. White ceiling stares back at him, and he turns his head, finding Simon with a bemused look on his face. 

“I was havin’ a great dream.” Johnny grumbles, latching onto him. Simon scoots closer, lifting the back of his hand to his lips with a secretive smile, dotting kisses down to his wrist. 

“I know.” 

 “- and he has access privileges, as long he’s not interfering with care, he’s allowed to be in the room whenever he deems fit. Obviously, in cases where he shouldn’t be, like burn debridement, he’s fine with stepping out, but you should expect him to sleep here.” The nurse nods, nervously peeking over your shoulder at Simon, who’s lurking in the hallway, staring through the glass at the transport techs getting Johnny settled in his room. You catch her eyes, motioning to redirect her attention, and she mumbles a meek apology. “They have a daughter, who Johnny has been mostly separated from since he got here, and he’s hoping to see her often, since she’ll be allowed to visit more freely now. I told him it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay.” Her toes tap against linoleum, weight shifting from foot to foot, and you resist the urge to sprint back to her boss and demand someone else. Fuck. Why does Nora have to be on maternity leave? 

“This is my favorite patient.” You warn her instead, dropping your voice low, pitching it brazenly serious. “I don’t ever want to see him back upstairs again, and that’s going to depend a lot on you.”

“Okay, okay.” Her work phone rings, and you jerk your head in dismissal, not quite finished, but not seeing a need to continue to harangue her, either.

Simon glances at you from down the hall, head turning once you’re alone. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t call to you, or say your name, but you’re helpless to the magnetic yank of his presence, a beam of gravity dragging you closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder, looking into Johnny’s room. He’s asleep, dark lashes feathered against his cheeks, blissed out and nearly snoring. “This will be great.” You say quietly. “He can see Penny almost as much as he wants down here. There are far less restrictions, and he’s doing so well, there’s nothing to worry about it.” He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with the x-ray vision that peels you open. Like he’s digging around in your head again.

“D’you have a minute?” You blink at him, graceful words dried out and missing.

“Uh, I… yeah, I’m technically off now so. Sure?”

“Have a tea with me? I’ll meet you outside the café, on the patio. Ten minutes alright?” Have a… have a tea with him? 

His eyes are heavy. They’re lasered, locked onto yours, brows knitted together in something soft, some form of emotion that you don’t understand, framing his face above the mask. How can you say no? 

“Okay, sure. Ten minutes.” You try to hide how your hands shake, tucking fingernail to palm, squeezing tight.

It doesn’t escape him.

You grow more afraid with each day, that nothing does.

The paper cup cradled in Simon’s outstretched grip is like every other paper cup you’ve seen before, drank from a thousand times, with steam wafting from its rim and aromatics spilling out into the air. “Sorry.” You blurt, reaching. His fingers brush against yours, warm contact momentarily stunning you. ‘Thanks.” You lift the tea to your nose, inhaling deeply.

Irish breakfast. With milk. Your favorite. 

“How do you know what tea I drink?” You don’t mean for it to sound so suspicious, or aggressive, but it does. It’s nearly accusatory, but doesn’t affect him. He merely shrugs in response.

“I pay attention.” An engine turns over in the carpark, a small car sweeping across the lot as it turns out onto the street. You watch, feigning mild interest, trying to get a closer look at the driver without appearing too fixated. “So.” He sips, and then removes the lid, vapor rising from the top in a delicate little dance. “How long have you been at Addenbrooke’s?”

“A few years.” The answer is effortlessly supplied, like you’re under a spell. Your eyes go round. What are you doing? Crow’s feet crinkle at the corners of his own, and you manage a shaky smile.

“What brought you across the pond?” He jokes, velvet, soothing lilt in his voice.

“Work.” It’s easy to lie about this, the fabrication usually used in casual conversation almost every day with patients and new coworkers, people who are interested in you being from somewhere else, having a different accent, different education, customs, the whole lot. His jaw moves behind the mask, and before he can push the question further, you rush out your own interruption. “Simon, I want… I want to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” He nods. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… the other night Johnny said something about,” Your face is nearly scalding, embarrassment laden lump stuck in the back of your throat. “about you and him, and… me, I guess…” you trail off, eyes darting down into the tea.

“Go on?”

“He said that you guys think I’m special, and you- you said-“

“That we’re here for you.” He finishes, nonchalant.

“Right.” You breathe a little easier, knowing he knows what you’re talking about, words picking up steam. “I want you to know that it’s totally normal to feel this way. It happens a lot, you know. Patients and, or their family members, loved ones, they get attached. This affection starts to happen towards a member of the care team because we become that person who… provides care, twenty-four seven. So, you and… and Johnny, feeling like you have this attachment towards me, it’s very normal. Not a big deal.” You finish in one big breath, cutting your ramble short. His cheeks swell behind the fabric, like he’s smiling, eyes squinting again.

“That’s not what this is.” That’s not… what this is? What does that mean? 

“What?”

“Transference. That’s not what is happening here.”

“How do you…”

“I’ve had years of therapy.” He sighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” Say yes, the girl in your head screams. Tell him you need it all to stop. That you don’t like them, that it’s inappropriate. You know how this will end. 

“No.” You don’t know why you don’t acquiesce to your own good sense, why you ignore the very clear boundaries and rules that have kept you alive this long.

“Bunny, I need you tell me, honestly, if you are uncomfortable.” He levels you with an intense look, seriousness bleeding from his irises to yours. You press your palms flat on the table, quelling their trembling.

“It’s not… it’s not you. Or Johnny.” You whisper, eyes slipping shut. It’s easier that way, to just close them, to hide. To pretend you’re somewhere else, to block everything out.

What the fuck are you doing right now? Your brain screams, but your heart wails.

What is it like, to be loved like that? To be known like that? To be held in someone's heart, cherished and protected? 

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice is low, calming, and when you don’t answer, one of his hands folds over yours. “are you with me?”

“Yes.” You peek at him, and then fully let yourself look around, steadying the rancid fear that permeates through your body. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He hums, hand still over yours. It’s warm, and broad, big thumb stroking a slow circle into your skin. “Is today your Friday?” You nod.

“It is, yeah. I’m… I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.” He straightens in the chair, shoulders and torso so unbelievably wide, like a long forgotten mythological god. Or the trunk of a massive tree.

“Will you have dinner with us, tonight?” The last of the orange red dawn spills over the crest of the buildings, and the world spins, cold sweat breaking out down your back. 

“What?”

“Dinner, with us. I’m picking up takeaway for Johnny from his favorite place as a celebration, for graduating the ICU. We’d love to spend some time with you. Get to know you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I…” Say no, you have to say no, shut this down. It’s too much risk. 

“No pressure. Just, hanging out, talking. As friends, if you like.” Butterflies thrash in your stomach so violently your knees bounce, and your heart leaps, pitching itself off a cliff like it wants to die.

“Okay.”

“Great. I can pick you u-“

“No! No, I’m fine. I have some errands to run after I get up for the day so, I’ll just meet you here.” It will be just like going to work. No harm, no foul. You can hang out with them, and go home, just like you’re at work. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t. 

You barely sleep. You pace, you nap, you thumb through endless craigslist listings in faraway cities for apartments, you read. You take the long way through the city back to your flat and slowly sift through pieces of your life that you want to keep. Your quilt from home, that’s been tucked away on a shelf. A sentimental trinket that belonged to your mom, also hidden in a drawer. These things that can be removed, without being noticed.

Not that it matters.

He hasn’t been here. Not since the sick shit he pulled with your underwear. It makes you curious when you inspect the undisturbed tape on the back side of the door, the light dusting of baking powder on the bedroom carpet, but not surprised.

It’s not unlike him, to make himself known and then suddenly disappear, the endless mind games partially intentional, and partially something not even he can control.

After all, duty calls.

He could still be in the city. He could still be watching. You don’t know anything for sure.

“Three things you cannot outrun in this world, babe. Death, taxes, and… me.” You mumble it to yourself, the same words that live in your head, in his voice, repeated, pulling a pair of scrubs from your dresser.

But you had been running, and still had your life to show for it.

It doesn’t matter, you know how this will end. 

You’ve changed your clothes five times. You hem and haw in front of the mirror, trying not to look too closely at any one piece of yourself, switching shirt and pant combos until you finally settle on your usual, a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. They’re high waisted, because low rise is not even within the realm of possibility for your hips, and you appreciate how they fit, even if they may sit a little loose right now, given your recent stress levels.

You look fine, you decide. You look professional. You don’t really look attractive, in any way, but the scars on your torso are hidden, and with a little bit of make-up, you think you look presentable. At the very least, you don’t look like you’re half asleep, which is exactly how you feel.

Not like it matters, you chide. This isn’t a thing; it’s just hanging out. You’re going to put an end to this entire charade, tonight.

The train is quiet, and you’re extra watchful. Every face, every movement is logged, every jacket or hat or hood is inspected. Posture, skin tone, height, of every person you pass or see is tabulated and run through your mind. Your brain, a supercomputer in its own right, does it all, seamlessly. It wants to protect you, it keeps you on guard, it can look at a crowd of twenty people all facing the opposite direction and locate a potential threat, just by the shape of the shoulders.

You don’t see him, you don’t feel him, your skin doesn’t prickle, and you let the lack thereof bring you peace, if only for a few moments.

Johnny’s floor is bustling. You wave hi to those you know, checking in with his nurse for a moment, letting her know you’ll be hanging out for a bit. She doesn’t even bat an eye, thankfully, and you try to settle yourself as you turn down the hall.

You’re not prepared for what you find when you knock on his door and slide it open, breath catching for a moment, and you scramble to cover your initial balk.

Their daughter is here. She’s cuddled up on Johnny’s good side, the one without the burnt tissue or recovering surgical wound. She’s asleep, wearing a black onesie covered in skulls, her head tipped back and mouth open, chubby cheeks and sweet little face perfectly content. She’s got her entire fist wrapped around one of Johnny’s fingers, holding it right under her chin like she’s afraid he might vanish while her eyes are closed. “Hey, bun.” Johnny whispers, smiling so wide, two fingers stroking through the wispy curls on top of her head. “We snuck in a visitor tonight.”

“I see.” Your heart trembles.

“Fell asleep right away, next to her Da. Been missin’ him these past few nights.” Simon chuckles, patting Johnny’s leg gently, affectionately. There’s a bag of take out on the table behind him, as well as what looks like an overnight bag, a purple duffel stuffed full. “Price is on his way to pick her up.” Penny gurgles, eyes blinking open in a sleepy daze like she knew they were talking about her.

“Ye’re alright, sh-shh, wee lamb.” Johnny coos. She’s half soothed by his words, but the lights in the room are far too bright, and her small noises waver into a cry, frustrated and tired. He tries move her, cradler her higher up his chest, but his face falls with pain, and Simon swoops in, pulling her into his arms. “Bunny, could ye-“

“Would you-“ They both try to ask at once, and you flounder once you realize the intention, a cranky, sleepy Penelope being pushed into your arms.

“I-“ she wails, interrupting you, bending you to her will without fuss, and you hold her closer, rocking side to side, humming above her ear. Just like the NICU, like a patient, like your stint in L&D, it’s fine, it’s-

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Not fine. It’s not fine. Heat burns in your belly. He can’t call you that, not when you’re holding their baby. “Thank you.” Simon says over his shoulder. He’s moving Johnny, lowering the bed slightly to help reposition him, and they speak quietly to one another, voices low enough you can’t make out any of the words.

“I can help you with him, if you want.” He waves you off.

“I need the practice, won’t have you around all the time anymore, yeah? And once he gets home…”

“Ach. ‘m not paralyzed. Jus’ uncomfortable.” Johnny glowers, pouting, and you roll your eyes, rhythm steady, gently bouncing, letting Penny cuddle into your chest, snuggling her face against your arm and side. She’s beautiful, precious and sweet, cooing herself back into a light slumber, and you smile despite yourself, still rocking after her eyes start to shut. “Knew she’d like ye.” He says softly, and you glance up, surprised by the intensity of their focus, heavy gazes fixed on you.

“She’s very sweet.” Your lips twist.

“She is.” Simon agrees. “We were happy to get her some time with her Da. Good for both of ‘em.” His fingers find Johnny’s cheek, and then their hands meet, a palm pressed to lips, a whispered a I love you. 

An intimate moment, as you stand there with their baby in your arms.

“Alright, now that ye’ve done the hard work by gettin’ her back down,” Johnny gestures, urging you to step forward, and you carefully place her back in his arms. For a moment, your faces are level, and you get caught in his eyes, nerves strung so tight they could be a tightrope. “I’ve got her.” Weeks in the hospital, and he still smells like cedar and oranges, woodsy citrus that envelopes you, your lashes fluttering on the inhale. “She likes ye.” He murmurs, breath warm and tickling over your cheek.

“Well, she’s...” you straighten, hands smoothing down the front of your top. They’re moist, somehow, and you tuck them behind your back. “She’s a good judge of character, I guess.” Simon’s phone vibrates, Johnny’s plush smile turning dour, and he sighs.

“Okay baby girl. It’s time.” She cries a little, readjusting to Simon’s hold, and he slings the purple duffel over his shoulder, promising to be right back. Johnny nods, eyes downcast, and his face twists once the door shuts, cheeks turning red, staccato, hiccupped breaths coming fast.

“Hey.” You whisper. “Hey, Johnny.” The chair at his bedside creaks under you, and you lean forward, fingertips lightly caressing the tape residue that still sticks to his skin. You should clean that off. 

“’m alright.” His shoulders roll, chin jutting out, brilliant blue gleam in his eyes returning, like storm clouds rolling off after rain. He’s silent for a beat, pinky finger folding over yours. “How was yer day?”

“Oh, it was… fine.”

“Simon said ye were goin’ to catch up on some sleep?”

“Yeah, I didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles. “I feel okay though. Still awake at least.”

“I’m glad… ye came. I’m sorry if the other night, I was too… forward.”

“That’s okay. You’re just… so flirty, I don’t even know what to do with myself.” You tease, expecting to get a lighthearted quip in response, or a laugh, but he gives you neither, only a serious, sympathetic expression.

“I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable. Felt terrible, when ye ran off, I-“

“I’m fine, Johnny. You… you didn’t. I mean, it was just… confusing, this is… this is a lot.” He nods.

“I know it is.”

“And you don’t even know me.” His brow creases, focus narrowed in so tightly on you, white walls, white hospital blanket, white everything falling away in a spiral of color.

“I know ye better than ye might think." He cracks a smile. "We want to, if ye’d let us.” No, you don’t. You almost say it. Almost promise him that knowing you would be the stuff of their nightmares, that they have no idea what they’re trying to bite into, or bite off, a near guarantee that it would be than they could chew.

“Well, no harm in making new friends, right?” You entreat weakly, and his eyes flash, ethos of an entire life that you have no knowledge of slipping through, and the dark severity rumbling in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

“Aye, bun. Especially when they look like ye in a pair of jeans.” 

Dinner is an idyllic affair. Johnny’s favorite takeaway turns out, is Indian, like yours, and the three of you talk for hours, trading bites back and forth, laughing and listening to stories, discovering little bits and pieces about their lives while running interference on personal questions about yourself, allowing them to dip in skin deep, skimming off the top but never getting further. They tell you about themselves, Penelope, their jobs, how they met, and Johnny confides in you about his sketchbook collection, pages upon pages of charcoal and pencil line work, portraits of Simon and Pen covering each page, landscapes, and the occasional cartoon. Your spine eventually starts to wilt, muscles liquifying into goo that can barely hold you upright, and you curl up in the armchair, chin on your palm, listening to the ebb and flow of their voices as they tell you a particular story about how they came to find their current home, a near slapstick comedy about an interaction with the previous owner. Their voices soothe your restless mind, wrap you in a cozy embrace that feels so safe, so comfortable that you can’t fight the languid, siren call of sleep, eyes drooping into darkness, drifting away on their melodies, content and too tired to rationally put together what’s happening. At some point, something covers you up, knit warmth that is tucked in around your shoulders, your feet, a tender touch on your neck and cheek. A whisper of affection soothes the unease that lurks in the background of it all, and you fall into it lazily, farther into the hold of sleep, something your brain and body are desperate for.

When the lights go dim, you don’t even realize, already lost to the sand of slumber.

Around midnight, you wake with a start. Your heart is racing, triple timing in your chest, and you squint in the dark, trying to parse together where you are, what happened.

Oh no. Oh god, did you fall asleep on them? Did you fall asleep in Johnny’s room? 

Simon calls your name. He’s settled in a recliner, head turned your direction, mellow light from the little lamp spilling across his features. “Are you alright?” Your mouth is dry, the web of sleep that holds you in suspension finally starting to wane, fuzzy clouds in your head trying to clear without much luck.  

“How long was I out?”

“Four hours.”

“I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Wanted to let you sleep. I know you were tired, and Johnny was out almost immediately after you.”

“Th-thanks.” Your back groans, muscle and bone grinding together, stiff from sleeping in a cramped position for hours, and you’re surprisingly unsteady on your feet. Simon’s out of his chair in a second, turning around the end of Johnny’s bed to offer you a hand, his other lightly resting between your shoulder blades.

“Easy.”

“Sorry… just… think ‘m more tired than I realized.” It’s dark, and you’re disorientated, woozy, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, limbs and lids still heavy and desperate to fall back asleep.

“I’ll drive you home.” His keys jingle, and you know you should reject him, refute this presumption, push him off, but you can’t string the right words together in your mind, can’t bring yourself to truculently pull away.

So, you don’t. And to your surprise, your shock, it feels… nice. You let him open the door for you, get you settled, you listen to his music on the way, city flying past outside the window, quiet hour of the night crawling by. You let him help you out of the car when you pull up to the curb, and when he asks if he can walk you up, your rational pugnacity is nowhere to be found.

“This is me.” You gesture to the door, fumbling in your wallet for your keycard.

“How long have you been in the hotel?”

“Oh, not long. Reno just started so…” His head turns, surveilling the hallway. You’re in an end room, far from the elevator but close to the stairs, as requested, and there’s a camera that sits on the ceiling, green dot consistently blinking. He glances at it, then back to you, head tilted.

“Are you safe here?” The world goes cold. Your stomach roils, blood draining from your face, and you try to hold yourself steady, mind turning over a million times. You’re overreacting. He’s just asking in a general sense. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t. Breathe. Deep breath. 

“I uh, yeah. It’s got a deadbolt.” Along with a door stop alarm, and a security bar. He steps closer, so close that you can smell him, fresh laundry and musk, something spicy lingering there, something dark and enchanting.

“Are you in trouble, little bunny?” You’re in his shadow, beneath the stretch of a mountain, shielded by it, by a monolith so large it could blot out the sun. It overwhelms you, slows the racing pace of your mind, and you try to sort through the merry go round of feelings that are all trying to push their way out of your mouth.

You’ve never felt this. Never felt this… desire, to entrust someone with your life. Never felt this… attraction, this hold that the two of them have on you.

It makes you want to trust them. Makes you want to lay it all out and beg them to help you. Makes you want to close your eyes and leap, praying they’ll catch you.

It’s wicked. It’s dangerous. It’s a fool’s errand.

It’s unfair. 

“No.” You whisper. You can’t look at him, and time slows in the silence, your anxiety piquing. Of course, he would assume something is wrong, after witnessing the panic attack. Don’t read too far into it. 

“But you wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” He’s pragmatic, yet still kind, watching you with intent. It doesn’t allay any of the stress that’s building up the back of your throat and closing it, cutting you off from the oxygen you desperately need.

After an eon, he sighs.

“Okay, sweetheart. You can keep your secrets. For now.” You choke. 

“I… I should probably-“ you jerk your head towards the door, half turning away to swipe your keycard.

“Alright.” He moves carefully, dipping low, and you stand immobilized, confused and quivering as his cloth covered mouth presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. It’s like he’s bewitched you, cursed you, and you can’t do anything but stand there, stunned. “Thanks for coming tonight.” You’re a deer in headlights, a rabbit in a scope.

“Simon.” His name is the only thing you know right now, and it comes out reedy, almost a squeak.

“Get some rest. We’ll text you tomorrow.” He pushes the door wide, arm snaked behind your shoulders, and when you don’t move, he urges you forward, an encouraging hand on the small of your back. Your feet blindly stumble through the motions, searching for the light switch, for your sanity. “Goodnight, bun.” He hums, and the door clicks shut, leaving you alone, staring at the beige-yellow paint on the wall.

The afternoon trains are packed. It makes your skin crawl, not because you dislike busy or hectic places, but because there are too many eyes. You force your head to stay up, casually scrolling past the faces that are turned every which way, keeping your back to a corner or window as often as possible. You’re not sure you even needed to take this route, the one where you loop around and change trains twice, but… old habits die hard.

You’re lighter today, mentally. It’s in your steps on the stairs, the way you tilt your face up to the sun, how you bounce and bob a little along to the rhythm in your headphones.

You try not to read into it, too much. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with the good morning text messages from Johnny and Simon, or the hilarious back and forth between them after Simon sent a god-awful joke to the group chat. It has nothing to do with the heat that spreads through your fingers to toes when you think about Simon last night, kissing your forehead.

You slip inside your apartment, popping your headphones free, glancing at the tape and the door jam, before setting your bag on the counter. You idly sort through some mail you left out the other day. Junk, junk, junk, nothing taxing or important, nothing work related or-

A shadow moves. It flickers against the wall by your bedroom, growing larger, stalking closer to the kitchen, to where you stand, frozen, heart pounding in your ears. 

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. 

“Hey there, sugar.” He croons, the thick, Texas accent unmistakable, and you breathe his name in horror.

“Phillip.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader

[suntoru]

─ ✰ COUNTDOWN TO YOUR LOVE!!

✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 most definitely does not have a crush on his best friend. so what’s this feeling when somebody else is planning on confessing to you?

— warnings: oblivious gojo af, fluff, mild violence, might be ooc, please be nice i have only watched like the first episode of jjk, idk what else

— author’s note: is it shittily written? yes. but is it finished? also yes. HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES <;33

“guys, guys, brace yourself for the tea i have!! nanamin is gonna confess to y/n tonight at the new years party!!”

“huh?! seriously?” nobara gasps theatrically, her eyes widening in interest. she springs up from the couch, tail -imaginary or not-wagging in anticipation as she eagerly leans in for the juicy gossip.

*chokes* "...what?" gojo gags on his tea, coughing violently. he's surely joking. there's no way. "y/n, as in like, my best friend, y/n?"

“i know, right? i was surprised too!! after all, i was sure mister nanami was more interested in marrying his paperwork than finding real love, but that’s what i heard!” yuji spills, enthusiasm radiating from every word.

"that's... great." gojo manages to mutter, and for once, he has nothing ese to say.

“it’s about time, he’s pushing thirty, and he’s still single… as the youngsters say, he has… L rizz.” nobara laughs boisterously with her hands on her hips, thoroughly entertained by her own joke. meanwhile, yuji cocks his head in confusion at his friend's delusions. …is she going senile?

“well, aren’t you also single…?”

'hush, yuji! the point is, there's gonna be some spicy drama!" nobara squeals, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "we're talking romance unraveling like a well-scripted k-drama!! get ready for some flashy love confessions, and hopefully, a heart-fluttering kiss scene!!"

11: 56 PM

fuck, why can't i focus? gojo groans as he loses yet another round of mario kart to nobara. the image of you lingers in his mind from earlier that day, engaged in conversation with the blonde. he can't ignore the subtle indications; your flustered demeanor, a slight tint of pink on your cheeks, your refusal to make eye contact. clear signs of a crush. you surely like him back, there's no denying it.

and he should be happy for his friend— should be, but all he can feel is an unexplainable tightness that grips his chest, like a weight he can't shake off. he can't quite put a pin on it, it's an unknown emotion, but it all feels ugly nonetheless. it must have been something he ate earlier. ...yeah, that's it.

as he tries to ignore the overwhemling feeling of dispair, his attention flickers to the lively scene, and there you are, donning one of those goofy 2024 glasses that make your whole demeanor even more endearing. a lopsided smile graces your face as you engage in cheerful banter with megumi, and just like that, a fuzzy feeling envelops him, coaxing a smile to creep up on his face involuntarily. but before he can revel in the moment, a sudden flick on his forehead disrupts his thoughts.

"hey— ow, what was that for?" he whines, rubbing his forehead and directing a puzzled gaze towards utahime.

"you're so dense." she huffs in annoyance, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at his apparent obliviousness. he looks up at her, confusion etched across his features.

"i- huh? whaddya mean by that?" he stares at her in confusion. utahime sighs in exasperation, irritation visible. "how stupid are you? do i have to spell it out for you? you. like. y/n." the words hang in the air. ...i ... like... y/n...?

and then it hits him like a brick wall. the reason behind stinging feeling in his chest. you being with nanami meant no more midnight snack runs, no more drunken gossip sessions, no more attempts to fluster you. those simple pleasures, the serotonin rush sparked by your mere smile, threaten to slip away.

the thought of losing you; his best friend, his one and only, shakes him to the bottom of his core. his heart, like a drum, pounds in his chest, a resounding beat of denial and awakening. ...no way... he couldn't... does he...?

could he truly say that the way he always seems to gravitate towards you in group gatherings, the way his eyes subconsciously find their way towards yours, the sudden surge of warmth he gets when you praise him was all truly platonic? perhaps he didn't acknowledge it before, but his heart has long declared what he only now comprehends: he loves you. he loves you.

he's loved you ever since you were five and he was seven, when you announced proudly to everyone that you were now his best friend for life. he's loved you when you were eleven and he was thirteen, when you sought refuge in his arms, tears streaming down your face because of a bully. he's loved you when you were eighteen and he was twenty, hung up on some random jerk who didn't even treat you right.

his eyes dart over to where nanami is, pacing closer towards you— he's going to lose everything if he doesn't move.

he can't lose you.

so he runs across the large room, dashing towards you, heaving and huffing. "FIVE!" everybody begins to chant. "gojo?" you good? need something?" "FOUR!" your voice is soft and sweet, like a honeyed daydream, etched with concern. how could he not have realized, it was you all along? it was always going to be you. "THREE!" "hey." he says breathlessly. "yeah?" you mumble, curious as to what he was about to say next. "TWO!" "slap me if you hate it." "hate what?" "ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!"

he pulls you towards him, using both hands to grab your face, planting a passionate on your plush lips, your eyes widening as everybody else cheers knowingly.

bonus!! earlier:

"you like him. gojo."

nanami simply states, a ghost of a smile on his lips. you feel your face heat up. how did he know? was it that obvious? that's so embarrassing... oh my god. you can't look him in the eye, you just want to shrivel up and disappear in the ground... "you're both so stupidly oblivious." he mutters under his breath.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk fluff #gojo #gojo fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #if this flops ill cry

[f1goat]

more than friends ; lando norris + part six

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

a/n: this is a rewritten story, you can find the explanation on my profile

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

The dinner is going on and on. Normally you really like the dinners with the McLaren team, but tonight you can’t seem to focus on anything that’s happening around you. Lando isn’t seated close to you like normal, you don’t know how it happened but there is a couple seats between you. It causes you to stare at him all the time. Oscar however is sitting next to you. He’s nice and polite, but the both of you are a bit shy. Something that causes the conversation to go not as smooth as when Lando is with you. You couldn’t stop yourself and drank a bit more then you’d normally do. You try to talk it right for yourself, but all your excuses are around Lando. Instead of doing the wise thing and order a water or a soda, you order another cocktail when the waiter asks you for your drink order. Oops?

You don’t know what’s going on with you. Since you have arrived in the restaurant, you have been feeling vague. At first it was just because Lando was seated a bit far away from you, but eventually something else happened what causes you to feel like this. Maybe vague isn’t the right word, but you can’t confess the right word. That would make things so much worse. 

The weird, unsettling feeling in your stomach and head started when Lando started to talk with another girl. You don’t know her personally and you haven’t seen her around before. Nothing too weird since McLaren is growing rather fast and hires a lot of new employees quite often. If she’s from McLaren, you don’t know for sure. Lando is talking and laughing with her, it causes you to feel terrible. Every time he lets out a laugh, you feel yourself getting jealous. 

Oscar sends you a confused look when you take a big gulp from the cocktail the waiter just brought you. He seems even more confused when he looks at his own glass, which is still half full and was order a round earlier. You can only hope that Oscar doesn’t say anything about it, but you’re quick to let go of that hope when Oscar starts to talk. 

“Everything okay?” He asks you.

You show him a simple nod as a reply. 

“Do you want me to switch places with Lando?” He asks you with a small smile, “I understand if I’m a bit boring tonight, but I’m exhausted from the race.”

“Oh no,” you quickly state, “I’m also pretty tired, so I’m not the most fun person tonight as well. And I can’t focus on anything right now.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re drinking quite a lot for someone who wants to focus?” Oscar jokes.

You let out a soft laugh. “You’re right,” you agree with him, “Don’t even know why.”

“Maybe because of the girl who’s flirting with Lando?” Oscar says without even a single doubt. Are you that obvious? Fuck. Before you can say anything to Oscar - not that you know what, are you going to lie to him or confess? Oscar is already talking again, but this time softer. “Let me help you. Just follow my lead and this is fixed in only minutes.” 

You show Oscar a confused look, but still nod at his words. Oscar says a loud hi to someone who’s sitting next to you, quickly starting a conversation with him. You look at what he’s doing, but you still have no idea how it will help you right now. 

“Did you already meet Y/N?” Oscar suddenly asks the guy. The guy shakes his head. “Really?” Oscar asks confused, “This is her, you should really get to know her.” In only seconds the guy is shaking your hand and introducing himself as Pedro. You introduce yourself as well. A small conversation is started rather quickly. Pedro is pretty interested into you, Oscar is quickly fading to the background of the conversation. You try to keep him into it as well, but Pedro keeps focussing on you. 

“We should totally dance together at the club later!” Pedro tells you full enthusiasm, you chuckle and tell him that you’re a terrible dancer. Something he doesn’t seem to care about. Conversations with him are pretty easy, before you know it he talks about how he got by McLaren recently and what he does. It seems that he’s involved in Lando his trainings, helping the team with making a better rhythm for your friend and assisting his main trainer John when it’s needed. 

“I can teach you how to dance later tonight,” Pedro tells you with a smile. It sounds a bit suggestive now that you think about it. Before you can realize, you see Lando coming closer to you. He presses a kiss against your cheek. You almost jump up when he does, since when are you doing this in public as well? 

“Hi babygirl,” Lando softly greets you. 

Pedro sends you an embarrassed look. Before he can say anything, Lando greets his shortly as well. “Pedro,” he simply says with a small nod to the guy. You don’t know if you’re right, but Lando his tone seemed different when he greeted Pedro. It almost sounded annoyed. When you look at Oscar and he shows you a grin, you realize that this was his plan all the time.

“Sorry Lando, didn’t know you two are a thing,” Pedro quickly says, he stands up and walks away after saying so. The words to deny it are still laying on your tongue. Lando is quick to take Pedro his seat next to you. You show him a confused look. What did just happen? Why didn’t Lando deny it?

“Sooo, the two of you are a thing?” Oscar asks his teammate with a small smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing by letting you meet Pedro. You send him an annoyed look, but don’t say anything. Lando can fix this. He acted this strange. “We’re not dating,” Lando states.

“Oh then why did you kiss her cheek and call her babygirl?” Oscar asks.

“It’s just the alcohol,” Lando mutters. 

Oscar laughs. He doesn’t believe the tiniest bit of it. Lando makes things even worse for himself by grabbing you on a soft way by the shoulders and pulling your body onto his. You show him a confused look, but then you allow your body to lean onto Lando. His hand find yours, he plays with your fingers before interlocking them with his own. 

“And that’s the alcohol as well?” Oscars asks while laughing.

“Fuck off mate,” Lando sighs.

“Weren’t you talking with that other girl?” You can’t help yourself and ask Lando. When you look around and let your gaze wander to where Lando was sitting before, you notice that the girl is already looking at Lando and you. You quickly look away from her, feeling uncomfortable with the stare. 

“Which girl?” Lando asks you. “The one who’s looking at us,” you reply.

“Oh, her,” he says, “She’s a bit too interested to be honest. So smile at me and act like you love me,” he continues to joke. You do what he says, you press a small kiss against Lando his cheek. You don’t even have to act like you love him. You know all to well that it’s not an act. It has never been an act. 

+++

When you’re finally in the club, you’re quick to find the dance floor. You’re dancing for fun with a couple of McLaren team members. Lando has find a place on the sidelines where he can focus all his attention on you. He laughs when you almost bump into another girl. Oscar has found a place next to his teammate. The words Oscar is saying aren’t landing by Lando, he’s way too focused on you. 

He’s completely focused on you and the dress you’re wearing. The dress has been on his mind for the whole evening. It’s unfair how good you look in it. It causes him to want to spread your legs for him so he can pull out another orgasm from you. Or for you to drop on your knees, so he can fuck your mouth and finally can get rid from the sexual tension that has been hanging around him since his podium. Or just your hand firmly around his boner to give him his release. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t care how it happens as long as there happens something. And the best would be if you were just close to him, showing everyone that the beautiful girl on the dance floor belongs to him. Only you don’t. It causes him to have a headache. Why aren’t you his? He really needs to change this.

“There’s really nothing going on between Y/N and you?” Oscar asks Lando.

“No,” Lando quickly states.

“So you won’t mind if my friend asks her on a date?” Oscar continues to ask, “Since you acted a bit weird with Pedro giving her attention..”

Lando doesn’t even react to the question, he can only focus on one thing. “Who?” He asks. His head is filling up with all kind of questions. Which friend from Oscar wants to date you? Would you date that friend as well? He lets out a sigh. This is the worst.

���Logan.”

Logan? Does Logan even know you? Do you even know Logan? Lando starts to wonder if he ever saw the two of you talking. Would you say yes to Logan if he asks you on a date? Fuck. Why didn’t he thought about this before. Of course there’s someone interested in you. 

“Do they even know each other?” Lando sneers. He can’t help himself.

“Kinda,” Oscar shrugs, “they talked a couple races ago when Logan DNF’ed. She made him feel a lot better about it.” 

“Fuck,” Lando sighs. He can’t hold the words back anymore. “Fuuck.”

Oscar laughs. “That says enough, don’t you think?” 

“No,” Lando quickly mutters, “I mean if he wants to he should, you know. It’s up to Y/N what she says.”

This time it’s Oscar who lets out a sigh. “Lando just be honest, you like her so you don’t want anyone else to date her. Why aren’t you telling her that?”

Lando doesn’t answer to that question. He wachtes you dance and sip from your drink. When he watches the people around you, it’s not surprising to him how many guys are doing the same as him. Watching you. He’s quick to realize that Logan, or Pedro, aren’t the problem. There’s always someone who would want to date you. The problem is always that you aren’t his. How is he ever going to fix this mess? What if you meet someone who you want to date? Someone who can offer you anything you want? Like being always there for you instead of needing you to travel across the world with them? What if he loses you want you start to date someone else? Lando can’t stand by the sidelines while watching you have a relationship with someone else. Right? He would lose his mind. 

It doesn’t even surprise Lando when he sees Logan coming closer to you. He sighs. It’s pretty normal that after a race a lot of the drivers are clubbing, so he isn’t surprised that Logan is her as well. But still, it stings. It’s stings even more when you greet Logan with a hug before talking to him full with enthusiasm. He wachtes away. He can’t see this. 

“You’re an idiot,” Oscar sighs when he notices the way Lando looks away from you for the first time that evening.

“I know,” Lando mutters, “and you don’t even know the worst parts.”

“Worst parts?” Oscar asks curiously. 

Lando knows that everything that’s happening between you two is a secret, but he also knows that Oscar will keep it that way. Right now he really can use some advise from someone. Oscar can probably give him some, he even has a great relationship. Lando stops questioning it and starts to confess to Oscar. This must be because of the alcohol, otherwise he would have thought about it longer.

“The short version is that we’re fucking,” Lando confesses, “or not really fucking, but doing a lot of other sexual stuff. Probably fucking soon.”

Oscar almost drops his drink. Then he lets out a loud laugh. “And you’re still doubting if she wants you?” He asks. “Fuck man, you’re stupid. Why would she do those things with you without being interested into you?”

“Because she wants sexual experience,” Lando explains.

“But still, why with you? There were probably enough others who wanted to help.”

“I offered,” Lando states.

“Same question, why did she chose you?” 

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He watches Logan and you again. The two of you are dancing. Logan looks if he tries to get as close to you as he can manage. Fuck, that should be him. Lando curses himself, he should have make sure that he was on the dance floor with you. Embarrassing himself, but having fun with you. 

“I don’t know why with me, probably because I offered and she didn’t have to contact others to ask. She’s embarrassed about her experience, so she probably wants to keep it a secret,” he explains to Oscar.

“Lando she won’t be doing this with you if there wasn’t some sort of interest,” Oscar quickly states.

Lando just shakes his head to disagree. He focuses on Logan and you again. There’s still a lot of dancing happening and it’s getting more closer with the second. He can’t watch this anymore. Without saying anything else to Oscar he starts to walk towards Logan and you. He hasn’t even a plan, but he needs to do something abut this. Oscar lets out a laugh when he notices the way Lando is walking towards you. He didn’t tell his teammate that he told Logan before that it would be dumb to ask you onto a date, since you’re too close with Lando. Oscar believes that Lando needs a push and this could be exactly the push Lando would have needed. And who is he to not give his teammate that much needed push?

It doesn’t take Lando long before he stands in front of you. You stop dancing to focus on him. What’s Lando doing? Logan also stops dancing and wait for what’s going to happen. Oscar already warned him for this, but he still wanted to try. “Can we go back to the hotel?” Lando asks you. 

He notices that Logan takes a bit more distance from you. Something he’s glad abut. You look worried at Lando. 

“Back to the hotel?” You ask him, “What’s going on?”

“I’m not feeling well,” Lando lies. Although he doesn’t feel well, but that can be easily fixed if every guy would leave you alone. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask him worried. 

“Just a bit too much alcohol,” Lando continues to lie. He can’t confess that he isn’t feeling well because of the attention every boy is giving you tonight. You send Lando another worried look and get closer to him. 

“Let’s go back to the hotel then,” you tell Lando. 

“Sorry if I’m ruining your night right now,” Lando says apologetic. He almost feels ashamed of himself for acting like this, but he can’t help it. He needs you for himself right now. He wants nothing more then to lay in bed with you right now and to cuddle up against you, instead of worrying about every guy around you. 

“It’s fine Lan,” you quickly say. 

Then Logan starts to meddle in the conversation. He sounds a bit unsure when he talks, a bit nervous even, “I can also bring you back to the hotel?” He suggests, “If you want to stay longer of course.”

“That’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say. Before you can say anything else Lando is talking as well. He feels himself getting more frustrated. Who does Logan think he is by suggesting this? He doesn’t even think about his next actions. He just acts. Word are quickly leaving his mouth. 

“We share the room and I only have one pass,” he states with a harsh undertone in his voice, “so you can’t.”

You look confused at Lando. Why is he acting like this? Doesn’t he notice that Logan is trying to help? Why is he this rude? Since when can Lando even act like this? You don’t know this side of him. 

“Oh sorry I didn’t know,” Logan quickly says, “I just wanted to help.”

You feel ashamed when Lando continues to talk. “That’s unnecessary,” he states. You quickly take a step closer to Logan, you don’t realize that it causes you to stand in front of Lando while doing so. Lando on the other hand is quick to notice. 

“It’s really sweet of you Logan,” you say, “but I’ll get back with Lando. Enjoy the rest of your night.” To give your words a bit more power, you give Logan a quick hug. When Lando sees your action he almost loses his mind. He feels like the most childish person when he grabs your hand and drags you away with him. He doesn’t take the time to say goodbye to anyone, he just needs to get you into the car with him. When he is outside the club, he starts to feel more ashamed for his actions. He barely dares to look at you. What are you thinking about him right now? You are probably really annoyed with him. And he gets it.

“What’s wrong with you Lan?” You ask confused, Lando is just happy that you still use the nickname for him. “Logan only tried to help.”

Lando doesn’t reply at first. He lets out a small scoff. Of course you’re dragging Logan into this as well. 

“You acted really rude,” you tell him annoyed.

“Of course side with Logan,” Lando sighs, “give me an even bigger headache right now.”

You let out a sigh. “You’re acting crazy,” you state frustrated. 

Lando doesn’t reply anymore. He’s glad when the taxi is standing in front of him. He opens your car door and walks towards the other side to take place himself. He knows that you’re right, but he really doesn’t want to confess that right now. Unsure he grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours. He smiles when he notices that you aren’t pulling away from him, but even give him a small squeeze. 

After a short taxi ride, Lando and you are quick to find your way back into the hotel. When standing in the room, you change your outfit. The dress from before quickly lands onto the floor and is replaced by a shirt from Lando. Lando can only focus on you walking around in his shirt with only a thong underneath. He wants nothing more then to hold you right now. Maybe remind you of your earlier promise, he still has an awful hard dick that can use some help. 

You on the other hand are thinking about other things. One of them being Logan. “You should apologize to Logan,” you softly tell Lando after a comfortable silence, “He only tried to help us.”

“He tried to get in your pants,” Lando scoffs annoyed. The frustrated feeling of before is coming back rather quickly. Why are you starting about Logan again? He wonders if you really don’t realize that Logan only wanted to bring you back to the hotel so he could get more from you? 

“Lan,” you sigh annoyed, “now you’re just exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Lando quickly replies.

You let out a big sigh and take a seat onto the bed. Lando is already laying in it. “You are,” you tell him while sending you an angry glance, “not everyone who’s nice to me is trying to get in my pants.”

“But he was,” Lando exclaims with a raised voice. 

“Why?” You ask.

“Because Oscar told me he wants to date you,” Lando confesses.

“So?” You ask, “That doesn’t mean he wants to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Lando sighs, “just believe me on this one.”

“Even if he is, why do you care?” You eventually ask Lando, you’re done with this conversation but it doesn’t seem to be even close to ending. You can’t help yourself from questioning it. Why does it seem like Lando cares this much about Logan wanting to date you and maybe wanting to have sex with you? It gives you a tiny bit of hope that Lando might return your feelings. Could that be possible? Is he just acting jealous? It almost seems so. 

“I uh,” Lando stutters a bit, he doesn’t know what to say. “I uh, I just want to be sure that your first is with someone who cares about you,” he says after a bit of stuttering. That is a good reason, right? 

“Are you afraid you won’t be my first anymore?” You ask Lando confused. 

Lando doesn’t know what to answer. He realizes that you’re right. He is afraid that things will change and that you don’t want - and need - him anymore. He really wants to be your first. “Maybe,” he confesses eventually. 

“Don’t,” you tell Lando. 

“Don’t?” He asks confused.

“You’ll still be my first,” you tell Lando, “I trust you and I want it to be with you. But..”

“But?” Lando asks. 

“But you still need to apologize to Logan, otherwise I will find someone else,” you joke.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters annoyed. He grabs his phone from his nightstand. You lay down on the bed next to him in the mean time. You get yourself close to Lando, you lay your head on his chest. Lando plays with your hair while scrolling in his phone, you watch the screen with him. You see Lando searching for Logan’s contact. When he finds him, he’s quick to type a message. 

Lando: Hey Logan. Sorry for my behavior tonight. It was rude, I understand now that you were only trying to help. Sorry.

You smile when Lando hits send. What the both of you don’t know is that Logan and Oscar are reading the message right now together. “I told you so,” Oscar tells Logan, “She has him all wrapped around her finger.”

When Lando puts his phone away, he is quick to focus his attention back on you. He doesn’t have to do anything to get your attention as well. You’re quick to move closer to him and press your lips onto his. The kiss was meant innocent, but Lando is quick to turn it into a make out session. 

“Fuck babygirl,” he mutters, “I’ve been so fucking turned on the whole night because of you.” 

You look at Lando. All the annoyed, mad feelings from before have melted away like snow for the sun. He grabs you and moves you on top of him. When you’re sitting on his lip, you feel his boner pressing on your body. 

“Can’t get the taste of you out if my system,” he continues to say, “Have been thinking about all the things you can do to me all night. All the ways you can make me cum. Fuck.”

You grind your ass on Lando his lap. “You like that don’t you?” Lando asks you, “When I talk dirty to you.” You show him a nod. “My dirty girl,” Lando continues to speak. His words cause you to grind on his crotch again. You feel the pressure from his boner sliding on your pussy. Fuck that feels good. 

“I need you to do something about it,” Lando groans when you take his boner into your hands. You won’t let him say that twice to you. Without giving it a second thought, you unclasp Lando his belt. Within seconds you pull down his pants and boxers. His boner springs free. When you take his boner into your hand and slowly stroke it. Your small movements cause Lando to let out a soft relieved moan. 

You try to remember what Lando likes. After a few firm strokes, you move down your head towards Lando his member. You place a few small licks around the top, making it wet. After that you carefully take his boner in your mouth. Slowly bobbing your head while sucking harshly on it. You use one of your hands to stroke the bit of his dick that doesn’t fit in your mouth. 

Lando sees the way you subtle move your head a couple times to remove the hair from coming in your sight. He lets out a low chuckle. Then he grabs your hair with one of his hands. Pulling it behind your head in a ponytail and keeping it in his hand like that. You increase your pace a bit. 

“Babygirl,” Lando suddenly says, “I’m going to give you a pace, but if it’s not okay you need to let me know. Okay?”

You remove your mouth from his boner only to tell Lando yes. When your mouth is back around his dick, Lando firms his grip on your hair. Slowly he shows you what he means. He softly pushes and pulls to make you get on his pace. He lets out a loud moan. “Fucking hell baby.”

Slowly you use your other hand to explore Lando his dick a bit more. Eventually you let your hand find Lando his balls. You use your finger to trace over them. For Lando this is a bit new as well, he always knew it would feel good but former girlfriends weren’t interested in it. He loves the way you doing things like this out of yourself. He doesn’t need to ask, you just explore the exact same things as he wants. When he feels your hand form around his balls and softly squeeze them, he lets out the hardest moan so far. It feels insanely good. 

You continue doing the same over again. It doesn’t take Lando long before he feels his balls getting a bit more tight. He lets out multiple moans before one hard grunts leaves his lips. It says enough to you. Lando his grip on your hair loses. A salty taste enters your mouth. You swallow it before sucking slowly until Lando is completely empty. 

“You’re the best,” Lando eventually says to you. You show him a smile. Lando pulls you close to himself, causing you to land on his chest with your body again. He plays with your hair. “Don’t give me that innocent look,” Lando says with a small smile, “because I know for sure that you’re not that innocent.” You show him a smile again, not knowing what to reply.

“I can’t wait to find out how you feel around my cock,” Lando tells you. 

“I’m ready for that,” you tell Lando shyly, “Maybe we can do that soon?”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

Then Lando realizes that he has no idea what will happen after that. Will this thing between you two end when Lando takes your virginity? He realizes that he needs to think about that and talk to you about it. But for now he focuses his attention onto you again. He presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

part seven

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia@swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

taglist p2: @chezmardybum @booksandflowrs @mineandneveryours @strawberryy-kiwii @noneofyourfbusinessworld @secretgal66 @trinity2058 @evieepepi08 @shutupmymomsc4lling @smiithys @nanamilkbread @hellowgoodbye @annie115 @random-1927 @sadmeal444 @christianpulisic10 @peachiicherries @toppersjeep @lovingaphroditesworld @kiskso @silentreader128 @lauralarsen @scopeiguess @trinity2058

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #ln4 #formula one #lando norris imagine #f1 #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut #formula one smut

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ safety net; t.f.

synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au

It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much. 

He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed. 

A bed... A home...

Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticated—as if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life. 

Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around him—well, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers. 

This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.

Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box. 

It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not. 

Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route. 

The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room. 

Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms. 

"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him. 

"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."

"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes. 

"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows. 

Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."

"What do you mean?" You tilted your head. 

"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him. 

Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."

"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."

"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby. 

"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction. 

As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered. 

It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way. 

"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"

"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded. 

"I'm well aware."

"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out. 

Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction. 

"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"

Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."

#harunovella writes; #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x you #reader insert #fem reader #toji x female reader #toji fluff #jjk x you #jjk au #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n

[hoseoksluna]

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy. 

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world. 

White wine. 

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks. 

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him. 

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now. 

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight. 

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you. 

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too. 

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently. 

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion. 

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy. 

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before. 

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room. 

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.” 

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away. 

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard. 

“Taste it for me first.” 

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too. 

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.” 

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp. 

“More.” 

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?” 

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum. 

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it. 

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good. 

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name. 

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree. 

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain. 

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts. 

“You’re gonna take control of me?” 

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face. 

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.” 

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?” 

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.” 

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way. 

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?” 

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.” 

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?” 

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.” 

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up. 

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession. 

“No, not from her. Please, from you.” 

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger. 

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper. 

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.” 

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants. 

“Boxers, too?” 

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.” 

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp. 

And he lets you. In the name of love. 

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home. 

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him. 

How sweet. 

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?” 

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch. 

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain. 

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?” 

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth. 

You knew it. 

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.” 

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him. 

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan. 

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?” 

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you. 

“Vinny.” 

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable. 

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?” 

“Please.” 

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger. 

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether. 

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness. 

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him. 

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.” 

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.” 

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.” 

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is. 

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”  

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?” 

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths. 

Then, Jungkook glares at you. 

“I’m gonna destroy you.” 

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.” 

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his. 

And he proves you right. 

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid. 

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.” 

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it. 

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does. 

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did. 

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.” 

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?” 

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings. 

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it. 

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him. 

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine. 

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come. 

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?” 

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.” 

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow. 

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again. 

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless. 

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.” 

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?” 

“And your snores.” 

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him. 

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time. 

You shake your head. “I messed up.” 

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock. 

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.” 

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.” 

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?” 

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?” 

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.” 

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.” 

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks. 

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down. 

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand. 

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets. 

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.” 

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.” 

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.” 

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering. 

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there. 

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.” 

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?” 

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.” 

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?” 

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole. 

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue. 

“Sit up. Ride my face.” 

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake. 

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take. 

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come. 

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew. 

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him. 

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.” 

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest. 

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.” 

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars. 

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease. 

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.” 

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit. 

And then he gets up. 

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back. 

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you. 

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.” 

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth. 

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves. 

“I love you, Ggukie.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips. 

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.” 

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can. 

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart. 

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

[li0nn3stuff]

Kiddo

Chapter one

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: beginning of the obsession•

As Aemond sat at the bar during his lunch break, his colleagues from the bank company gathered around him, chatting and laughing.

It was a family company, but nothing was given off out of nepotism. He had earned it. And he earned it fucking wonderfully.

He had studied in the best schools, yes, but he had been dedicated as no one could.

His father took him to work there when he was twenty-two, then he took his degree.

He worked wonders in the company, success after success. Not that his father ever applauded him anything. It was just his job to be a good employee.

He acknowledged his success, that he did. That was the reason why when his father started to get seriously sick, he named Aemond his successor.

Because he was fucking good at what he did.

Then, it happened. His father died, and the company fell into his hands.

CEO at thirty years old.

These types of bar were not something Aemond usually frequented. He likes places more… quiet, personal. He only came because his colleagues, or well, his employees suggested it with enthusiasm.

“Keep good relationships. You have to be present in the company, for them to trust and respect you. They’ll see how much you work and they’ll never doubt a word of yours.”

Despite the jovial atmosphere, Aemond remained aloof, his icy demeanor never faltering.

"So, Aemond, how's the Martel project coming along?" asked Marcus, a fellow executive, taking a sip of his drink.

Aemond shrugged nonchalantly. "It's progressing as expected." he replied in his usual monotone voice. "Nothing worth getting excited about."

Marcus chuckled. "Always the stoic one, aren't you? You should loosen up a bit, enjoy the small victories."

Aemond raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave the celebrations to those who find them worthwhile." He said curtly.

Across the table, Emily, another colleague, leaned in with a playful smirk. "Come on, Aemond, don't tell me you're immune to the charms of success." She teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Aemond's lips curled into a slight smirk, the closest thing to a smile he ever showed. "Success is fleeting," He replied cryptically. "I prefer to focus on the long game."

The conversation continued, with Aemond contributing sparingly, his responses always measured and guarded. He listened intently to his colleagues' chatter, but there was a distance in his eyes, as if he were observing from afar rather than fully engaging.

Despite his detached demeanor, there was an undeniable aura of authority and confidence that surrounded Aemond. He commanded respect without ever having to demand it, his presence alone enough to make those around him sit up a little straighter.

“Aspect, composure, and attitude are the key.”

As the conversation turned to other topics, Aemond remained in his own world, a silent observer amidst the lively banter of his colleagues. For him, the bar was just another backdrop in the intricate dance of corporate life, a place where he could observe and strategize, always one step ahead of the game.

As he perused the menu of the pub, a sense of disappointment washed over him. The offerings seemed basic and uninspired compared to the elegant plates he was accustomed to in high-end restaurants.

As he reluctantly considered his options, he couldn't help but long for the sophistication and refinement of the restaurants he frequented. The thought of settling for a mediocre meal in a dingy pub left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ordered a basic plate of pasta, hoping it wouldn’t suck too much.

He glanced around the bustling pub, filled with lively conversations and clinking glasses, he thought that perhaps there was more to the dining experience than just the food itself. Maybe, just maybe, he could find enjoyment in the simple pleasures of good company and convivial atmosphere, even if the cuisine didn't quite meet his lofty standards.

He looked at his employees around the table.

What a lie.

He liked being alone, he liked to stay away from people.

He sighed silently and scanned the pub, people standing or sitting everywhere, with a beer in their hands, laughing out loud, it almost gave him a headache. He drifted his gaze to a group of young girls that just walked inside. They were laughing in such a high pitched tone it was so annoying. They were all dressed too provocative for their age, probably hoping to look older in order to buy some alcohol.

Stupid kids.

They could barely walk on those heels, they looked horrendous, even if they acted like they were on top of the world. One of the group of girls looked at him and she immediately straightened up her composure, trying to evidence her curves.

Aemond felt like throwing up.

The girl laughed when he averted his gaze for a minute, looking behind her. He followed her gaze, and he saw her, a couple of steps behind the whole group, there was another girl, dressed in a skirt long to her knee, and a cardigan. There weren’t heels at her feet but old stan smith, she wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some mascara and gloss on her lips, that made them sparkle under the light, making them look soft, plumb, ready to be bitten.

Her hair tied up in a half ponytail, her hair coming down in soft waves. She clinged to her backpack strap like it was her life savior. She must have been… sixteen? Maybe seventeen, and she looked like it, despite her friends. Her friends only looked ridiculous.

She walked in a shy demeanor, her legs almost shining over the light that came from the door of the pub. Her thighs swayed one against each other, making all of her skin move in waves. They looked so soft, the perfect shape to grab them tightly and-

“Here’s your pasta.” The waitress said to him, as she placed the plate in front of him. He hummed and nodded, as she gave him a smirk and went away. He didn’t even bother to look at the waitress' body as she walked away. He went back to the little girl, but he found her looking back at him.

She softly, gently smiled at him, shyly.

She smiled.

Aemond didn’t smile back, and she immediately looked away, running to her friends. Her breasts jumped up and down at every step she took towards the bar, her hair moving around her face.

She was beautiful. Perfect.

He coughed and finally looked away from her. He felt like she put a spell on him. He felt drawn to her.

God he looked like a pervert.

The girl was only sixteen, half his age.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

He groaned and rubbed his temple, looking down at his plate, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.

Tasteless. Fucking tasteless.

“Marcus, stop staring at them, they could be your daughters!” He heard one of his employees say, laughing. Aemond immediately looked at him… Kyle? Then at Marcus, seeing him looking at the group of girls he saw before.

Don’t you dare look at her.

Marcus looked up and down the girls, smirking to his colleague.

“You can look at those, I don’t even know what the other girl is.” He laughed.

Don't talk about her.

Aemond clenched his hand on the fork, as both Marcys and Kyle turned to look at the girls again, drawing the attention of other colleagues as well. Aemond took a deep breath, closing his eye and leaning his head down.

I will kill you.

“Marcus, I heard the Lannister complaining about some work that has been done for them.” Aemond spoke, raising his glance at him, as he sat comfortably back on the chair.

The most uncomfortable chair he has ever sat on.

Marcus looks at him, surprised, and he immediately lowers his eyes.

“Uhm… yeah, they’re not really good at explaining what they want, you know? I made some mistakes, but I immediately fixed them when they noticed.”

“Mistakes?” He questioned further, taking another bite of his pasta, leaning back forward.

“Yeah, but nothing serious… Everything's alright now.” Marcus quickly added.

“Mh.” He only answered. He looked down at his silverwares, and he noticed the spoon was dirty.

Disgusting.

He sighed and looked towards the bar. The girls were still there. His girl was looking around the pub, her mind obviously somewhere else from her friend's conversation.

He shouldn’t do it.

He got up, excusing himself cordially to his employees, and walked away from his table.

He really shouldn’t.

He approached the bar, standing beside his girl. Her friends were giggling closed in a circle, she was more outside of it.

Were they really her friends?

Why the fuck did he care?

He twirled the spoon between his fingers, looking ahead of him as he waited for someone of the pub’s staff to consider him. Still he kept his ears well open.

“Y/N you should do it too!” One of the friends exclaimed, laughing. His girl looked at her, confused, but with a gentle face.

Y/N. He liked her name.

“What should I do?” She asked softly.

Her voice.

God, her voice.

Sweet, caring, gentle.

“Sammi maid. To earn some money, you need it, don’t you?” Her friend chuckled.

Bitch.

Aemond felt his anger rise in a second. They couldn’t be her friends. No. His girl tilted her head, confused.

“What is a Sammi maid?” She asked, so innocently. All of the girls laughed.

“Just… a maid. They just pay them more.” One of the girls explains.

Don’t.

“Might think about it, thank you.” His girl answered. She sounded embarrassed, her soft cheeks were probably red.

Don’t.

Aemond sighed and moved away, as finally, he saw a bartender coming to him.

“This spoon is dirty… and I know those girls are underage.” He handed the spoon and pointed at the group of girls, who were just asking for beers to another barman.

“Thank you, sir.” The barman took the spoon, and as he went to change it he whispered something to the other barman.

He saw the pissed expression of those girls and how they acted all offended. They quickly started to walk away but his girl was confused.

“I… I haven’t finished my cola…” She said weakly. One of the girls rolled her eyes at her.

“Whatever, Y/N stay here then.” She said, and all the group left. His girl was just staring at them surprised, as she stood there, alone.

He felt bad for her.

He wanted to hug her, console her. Kiss her.

What. The fuck. Was wrong. With. Him?!

He wanted her for himself. Never let anyone else touch her, speak to her, see her. He wanted her to be a prisoner in his arms. Why was he being so affectionate towards this girl? She was nothing he hadn't seen before. Yet he found himself rubbing his fingertips together, wanting to touch her, in any way she would let him.

“Here.” The bartender gave him back another spoon. He nodded and took it, so he turned to walk away, when he saw a necklace on the floor, next to her feet. He bent down, as she turned to him, surprised to see someone so close to her. Aemond stood up in front of her.

She was short. Shorter than him.

Her head was barely at the level of his shoulders. She looked at him, always gentle, soft, a hint of a smile on her face.

Her perfume. Sweet. Vanilla.

Her big eyes were staring at him. She looked so innocent.

He raised his hand with a necklace so she could see it. Her eyes sparkled when she noticed the necklace. She smiled broadly, and grabbed the necklace, putting her other hand over his.

“Thank you so much! I didn’t even notice it fell from my neck.” She looked at him, grateful. Aemond nodded back, even if his mind was trying to perfectly memorize the feeling of her touch. He looked at her hand, over his, her thumb moving slightly, as if to caress him.

He was a stranger to her, why was she being so nice and friendly? Was she like this with everyone?

He hoped not.

“Have a good day.” He said, nodding, turning to walk away, but she quickly put her hand in his arm, stopping him on track.

He had to put distance.

She had to stay away from him.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

“Sorry… Would you mind helping me put the necklace on?” She smiled softly, her expression a mixture of hope and worry, she didn’t want to bother him. He shook his head and turned back towards her, as she gave him her back, giving him the necklace. He quickly puts it on her, and she immediately turns back to face him, smiling.

“Thank you. Again.” She chuckled. Aemond felt like smiling at her.

He didn’t.

He gave her another nod, as he walked away, back to his table.

Somehow, none of his employees seemed to have seen his interaction with his girl, and he was thankful for it. Especially because of how he felt his cock stiffen at the mere memory of her touch

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #modern aemond #aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond one shot #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst #hotd aemond #dark aemond x reader #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #so hot 🔥🔥🔥

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party they’re hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby 😫 The darker the better lol

Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling

Hope you enjoy! Thank you!

Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric. 

Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.

Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. “Y/N’s quite the appeal tonight isn’t she?” Arthur chuckled, taking someone’s glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.” That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldn’t listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.

Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.

“Tommy! My husband, come here!” When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.

Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.

Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.”

“Relax Tommy, we’re just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of what’s between my legs I’m expected to just be formal, elegant?” Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil. 

Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.

“Yes. It’s that fucking simple. You can’t even fucking stand up straight.” Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didn’t change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadn’t thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what you’ve held in.

“You should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me you’d have nothing. I’m simply the means to an end to the shit deals you can’t make on your own.”

Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. He’s never, ever layed a hand on you.

When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.

“I’d have nothing eh? I’ll show you what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing.” 

Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining. 

You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow. 

Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.

“Maybe if you had just listened and weren’t a fucking whore tonight we wouldn’t be in this postion. Someone’s forgotten their place eh?” Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.

Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.

Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.

“Don’t forget sweetheart. I own you, you’re my property.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.

When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth. 

Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.

“How pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.” Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.

His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him. 

Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole you’d been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.

There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing. 

Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.

“Oh fuck…Didn’t know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.” He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didn’t feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole.  

When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasn’t paying attention. 

Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you weren’t as smooth as you thought. Tommy’s hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.

“Help! Help! Ah-“ Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.

“Shut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?” You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.

“No one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.” Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy. 

His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.

“Ride me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Can’t treat your husband the same?” Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.

Then an idea struck you, if you’r just get him off surely he’d let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding. 

“Ah, fuck, that’s it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.” You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.

You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.

Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.

At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasn’t weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again. 

You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something you’d never thought he’d use as a threat to you.

“If you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, you’ve done enough tonight.” Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.

Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasn’t joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.

“I need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?” He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you don’t listen.

Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #ranaewrites #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #requested

[yougotthatbilly]

romanée-conti (m)

→ member: jung jaehyun → genre: sugar daddy!jaehyun | slowburn | smut → playlist: alone with you x alina baraz, break the ice x britney spears → word count: 24k → warnings: LEGAL age gap, praise, oral; giving & receiving, unprotected sex (be smart pls), jaehyun likes her head to toe (literally), ‘do/can i call you daddy now?’ jokingly, one real ‘daddy’ (comes with the territory lol), petnames; baby, thumb in butt, probably more ↳summary: Having a sugarless- sugar daddy is proving to be more difficult than planned.

Dark brown eyes resting above prominent eye bags that look like they came from either genetics or lack of sleep—possibly both—are the first thing your eyes zone in on when you approach the table the owner of said eyes is sitting at, waiting for your arrival. As soon as he noticed your presence and looked up from his phone, it was hard to pay attention to anything else. 

Until he smiled. 

The curve of his lips and flash of his teeth are friendly and welcoming, with the slightest hint of shyness, and you truly see that pictures don’t always do people the justice they deserve. Faint crows feet appear due to his smile reaching his eyes, and somehow, they only add onto his appeal.

“Hey,” his gentle, deep voice pushes through your thoughts. He stands and your eyes travel up to follow his face before flashing downward at the sight of his hand being presented to you, and back up to his eyes. “I’m glad you could make it,” he says as he shakes your hand softly, letting go soon after to motion for you to sit across from him with both hands. 

“Me, too,” you softly smile back, setting your purse beside you. 

You finally look away from him to take in your surroundings. When you walked in, you barely paid attention to anything, only having the mind to scan people’s faces until you found one you recognized. Now, after greetings and the initial shock of just how gorgeous this man is, you can take in how this is a pretty nice place; everyone dressed in business casual attire, like this is where businessmen and women come after a long day or week to unwind. Dark, sleek wooden surfaces and furniture paired with deep red decorations that give the place a simple and mature feel.

Taeyong catches your eye from the bar nearby and he quirks a brow in question. You blink once and look away.

“I knew from your photos that you were pretty, but you’re much more beautiful in person,” is said when it’s clear you’re done observing the place. Under the dim, artificial lighting of the overhead lamp above your table, the softest pink flush on his ears is clear as he compliments you, and it leaves you both intrigued and confused.

“And you’re much more handsome,” you compliment right back. There was a fear of him being a catfish or using a picture from when he was younger to reel you and others in, and you’re pleasantly surprised and thankful the man waiting for you is actually the one from the photos. The angles of his face are soft and so are his features; gentle yet mysterious eyes and a pouty bottom lip that’s caught in between his teeth because of your words.

His fingers drum against the wooden tabletop before he pulls his hand into his lap. “Would you like some wine?”

“Sure.”

He raises his hand, pointer finger lazily lifted. In no time a pretty server is at your table, setting wine glasses in front of the both of you. 

“Red or white, sir?” she asks, and you guess he’s a regular here. 

“Whatever she wants.”

Both pairs of eyes land on you and make you blink.

She’s gone and back in the blink of an eye when you choose red, carefully pouring the wine of your choice into the glasses before she disappears again.

“If you don’t like it, let me know and we can get you something else.”

You gently swirl the deep, pretty colored liquid around a few times then sip.

Oh. This is nice.

“How was your day?” he asks.

Long. Extensive. “It was good,” you say instead. “Pretty productive and eventful. How about yours?”

“Productive but not quite eventful,” he laughs softly. He relaxes into the cushion behind him, and you note that his shoulders are broad even when they’re not up to his ears in a tense manner. His black button-up looks nice on him, stretching across his shoulders and chest in a snug fit. “Is it alright if we talk a little before getting into things?”

“Of course,” you nod. There hasn’t been a conversation since he asked you for your number a week ago other than when tonight’s date was planned, so you don’t quite know him. You’re someone who relies heavily on your gut feeling and right now there are no warning bells going off in your head, but chatting for a while will definitely give you a better feel of things. 

“Tell me a little about yourself?”

You tell him what you’re sure he already knows from your bio; your name and age, where you’re from and a few of your hobbies, in addition to your occupation. He listens intently, eyes taking in your features as he nods along to the information he’s receiving, drink never too far from his mouth. And when you can’t think of any other description of yourself that’s appropriate for a first meeting, you drink a little more.

“How about you?”

He hums, visibly racking his mind for something to tell you.

“Well,” he says a moment later. “I’m Jaehyun, I recently turned thirty-eight, and I’m from Seoul.”

And when he stops there, his face showing he doesn’t know what to continue with, you realize he isn’t very social. The pretty much awkward atmosphere, the shyness of his smiles and fidgeting of his fingers make you wonder if this is also his first time doing something like this, if he’s just shy overall, or both. This is nothing like what you thought it would be. You expected to be asked a lot of personal questions from the jump. You expected to get an earful of how great and successful he is, to get an earful of all the things he could do for you in exchange for whatever he wanted. You didn’t expect a socially awkward sugar-daddy-to-be.

Luckily, you’re a great conversationalist.

“So what brings you to New York?” 

“My father owns a few businesses and I chose to run the one here.”

“Do you like it here in the states?”

His eyes squint in thought before answering with, “I’m not sure,” and when your head tilts to silently ask him to elaborate, his explanation is: “I lived in Connecticut for a little when I was younger and I don’t remember much about it, and I’ve been here for a few years but I only go to work, cafes, business events and home if I’m not traveling.”

“You travel a lot?”

He rubs his lips together and tilts his head side to side with a pondering hum. “You could say that.”

“So how often would we meet?”

Jaehyunhyun blinks at your question. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, looking past his shoulder and meeting your cousin’s gaze once again. “We haven’t even gotten into that territory yet.”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just glad you’re still considering it.”

Well, things are going well in your opinion, and even though he’s socially awkward, as far as you can tell, he’s good company. You’re good with conversation and take pride in brightening situations, so this arrangement could go well. He’s a busy guy so you wouldn’t see him often, which means there won’t be any major changes in your lifestyle, and that’s perfect. You have no complaints so far.

The last of your wine is sipped and you eye the last small drop that sticks to the bottom of the glass, almost tempted to ask for a refill just because it’s the weekend, but you know Taeyong will chew your head off and you’d rather not hear that on the way back to your place.

“Everything is ultimately up to you, Jaehyun,” you shrug. “I’m down if you are.”

His arm is up again and in seconds the server is back with the bottle of wine in tow. She moves to pour more into your glass but you stop her with your hand. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Jaehyun squints as his glass gets filled half-way.

“You didn’t really like it, did you?”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth. You’re amused and touched that he actually cares about what you like already. 

“I promise I did,” you laugh, resting a gentle hand on the back on his own that found the table again. He doesn’t flinch at the contact but his eyes grow in size for a split second. “I’m a bit of a lightweight and I do have to drive home.”

When he’s convinced, you bring your hand back in front of you.

“Mind me asking how you found yourself looking for a… companion?” you ask him, grinning at the way his dimple makes an appearance at your choice of words.

“It was suggested, actually,” Jaehyun responds. “I said something about always being left alone at business events because all of my partners are either in relationships, married, or like to sleep around. Plus, all I do is work, so a friend told me about the website and here we are now.” You nod along, imagining being left alone to just drink and talk business while his business partners disperse with their romantic partners. It must be boring. “What about you?”

“Also suggested,” you chuckle. “I love my job and I live pretty comfortably, but I have goals I’m working on and I’d like to do so without having to think about a bill or getting another job. My best friend successfully found a perfect match so she was sure I would, as well.”

“Before anything,” he clears his throat, looking down at his glass and watching the deep red slosh in circles due to the movement of his hand. “I want you to know I meant what I said about no special favors. I truly don’t want anything other than your company… maybe a few times a month?” he glances back up at you with flushed cheeks. Cute. “Would that work for you?”

“That’s perfect. Do I call you Daddy now?” 

He chokes on the sip he was in the middle of taking and you have to bite the inside of your lips to stop a giggle from coming out. “I’m kidding.”

He blinks at you a couple of times before shaking his head. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you wink.

“If it’s alright with you, we could discuss all the paperwork the next time we meet. I wanted the both of us to get a feel of one another before we made any legal decisions.”

“That’s fine with me.” 

“I want you to do something for me.” At the rise of your brow–which was only out of curiosity and to prompt him to continue--he backtracks. “That sounded really suggestive, I apolo—”

“Jaehyun,” you call, biting back another laugh. The panic in his eyes goes away at your touch. “we already discussed there would be no sugar given, it’s okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Think of a price if you haven’t already.”

It’s up to you? 

“Really?” You ask. He nods. “You’re not going to decide? I thought that was how this worked?” You’re comfortable showing your naivety in this situation because it’s quite obvious he’s no pro at this either.

Jaehyun frowns at your words and sets his glass down, leaning forward. “Just like in any healthy or ethical relationship, business or personal, this works both ways. So with anything from this point on, if you want something or have concerns about anything you have to let me know immediately, alright?”

You nod, taken aback. “Got it.”

You’re getting the vibe that he’s serious about every move he makes, every word he says, and you can see why he’s probably such a successful businessman. He hasn’t said much but he doesn’t beat around the bush, and the transition in his aura from having small talk to talking about business, the way he just laid down the law, admittedly sparked something in your gut.

“Think about it and we’ll discuss it next time.”

“When will ‘next time’ be?”

“Let me check,” he mumbles, digging for his phone in his pocket. 

At the duck of his head, a waving hand from behind him catches your attention. Taeyong’s brows are raised, his fingers forming the okay sign. You blink a single time once more.

“I fly back in on Wednesday next week,” Jaehyun says. “Does Wednesday afternoon work for you?”

“Sounds good,” you nod.

He glances back down at his phone. “I don’t mean to rush things I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow,” Jaehyun nibbles on his bottom lip. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss tonight?”

You look up as if you’re thinking, and when Taeyong meets your eye, you subtly tilt your head in the direction of the door and naturally blink three times. “I think we covered everything so far.”

Taeyong finishes his beer and pays for it out of the corner of your eye.

“Okay then,” Jaehyun slides out of the booth and stands to your side, extending his hand for you to grab.

Add gentleman to the list of characteristics.

You grab your clutch in one hand then his own hand with your other and scoot yourself out of the booth with his assistance. He doesn’t let go, his grip loose but warm.

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

--

“So?”

You cut your eyes at your cousin as you buckle your seatbelt.

“Can we get out of the parking lot before he comes out and before you start questioning me?”

Taeyong grumbles something under his breath but backs out of the parking space nonetheless. And as soon as you’re on the main road he repeats himself.

“He’s nice,” you hum, leaning forward to undo the clasps around your ankles, wiggling your heels off with a sigh. “I like him. He’s cute.”

Taeyong scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

He wasn’t onboard with it one bit, which is why he immediately agreed to be your backup just in case. The whole ride to the bar consisted of him making sure you had the signals down packed; blink once if things are peachy, blink twice if you feel uncomfortable, and blink three times (he said thrice but that word rubs you the wrong way) when it’s time to go. Oh, and repeating that you didn’t need to do this. You appreciate him and his worries but it’s not like he’s going to help you with your debt.

You’re young, confident in your looks, confident in your personality. Nine times out of ten, you have no trouble getting what you want, so why not get a sugar daddy that doesn’t have sex as a requirement?

When Sooyoung told you about getting a couple grand a date from her guy—more if she threw in a hand- or blowjob—and she has well over enough money to blow after paying bills and saving, you were intrigued. You’re no prude or anything but you knew you wouldn’t want to jump in offering ass to almost sixty-year-old men, so when she told you that you can make it clear that you weren’t down for special flavors and that some relationships are innocent, you thought why the hell not. 

Plus, you’ve been bored and wanted to do something new, something exciting.

“Well believe it because we’re meeting again Wednesday,” you lilt. “He’s a sweetheart, really. You know how I am with catching vibes.”

“Pft. It could be an act,” he grumbles. You sigh and dig your phone out of your clutch, going to your music app. “What if he’s a narc—”

Thank god for bluetooth.

Taeyong glares at you when you turn the volume up and your favorite song blasts from his speakers, but he doesn’t try to carry on the conversation, instead singing along because you’ve played it too many times for him to not know the lyrics and because he finally caught the hint.

--

And when you get a message an hour later asking if you’ve made it home safely, you trust your gut a little more.

Today you woke up late and your outfit and hair definitely showed it when you first arrived at work, but thankfully you keep a travel-sized stash of makeup and hair tools in your desk and you were able to get yourself presentable before your first-period students piled in and took their seats. 

Being behind on grading tests and homework from last week with another pile of tests from yesterday you need to get done in time for your students to be able to see their mistakes and retest before break in a few weeks, potential sugar daddies have definitely not been on your mind.

Not until you get a message around two-thirty while you’re halfway through the homework pile.

[2:15pm] Jaehyun: Good afternoon, I will be landing shortly. Do you still want to meet today?

“Shit.”

“Language.”

You completely forgot Jisung was staying after to retake a test from weeks ago. But from the looks of it, he’s done and just chilling on his phone. A glance at your desk lets you know he’s already gotten up, walked over to your desk and put his test down in the corner. This is exactly why you shouldn’t stay up until three in the morning lesson planning and only getting three hours of sleep. 

“Hey,” you beckon him over to the seat next to yours. “Wanna help me?”

“Do I get extra credit for this?” he asks as he eyes the pile of work and the answer key you give him.

“Maybe.”

You’ll probably give him a donut or something tomorrow.

[2:17pm] you: Hey! I’m finishing up at work right now so just let me know when you’ve arrived.

After Jisung finishes his pile and you’re almost done with the new pile you started, your phone starts buzzing.

“Hello?” you answer, making sure to turn the volume down because Jisung is a nosy little thing.

“Hey,” oh, you forgot how smooth his voice is. “I’m at this cafe a couple of blocks away from the bar we last met. Would you like to meet me here and then maybe find something else?”

You take in the few tests and homework assignments left to grade. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Send me the address and I can be there in about twenty.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Did you start dating?”

You ruffle Jisung’s hair. Absolutely not telling him just so he can tell his partner in crime. You wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow if you did.

“Thanks for helping, hun. Am I taking you home?”

--

You barely make the twenty minute mark from the time Jaehyun sent you the address and you have to stop yourself from running inside of the cafe like a mad woman. Dropping Jisung off was no issue, his house was on the way. Your eyebags, smeared eyeliner, and dry ass lips were the problem (how some of your students can manage to fancy you when you’ve occasionally gone to school looking like a mess is beyond you). An extra five minutes or so in the parking lot of your destination resulted in you looking far better, but not nearly as good as you did the first night.

Not nearly as good as Jaehyun does sitting there waiting for you with a small mug in his hand while he holds a newspaper with the other. He’s just barely slouched, a white button-down covering his upper body this time. He looks photoshoot ready and you’re grateful you took the time to fix yourself up.

“Hey,” you greet quietly as you sit in the chair across from him, hooking your purse onto the back of it. “Sorry I’m late. I had to give one of my students a ride home.”

Jaehyun puts the newspaper down after folding it in half. “You’re not late, no worries.”

He looks tired. His bags look like how yours did before the second layer of concealer for the day, his eyes low in comparison to the last time you saw them. You wonder how far he traveled. 

“How was your flight?”

“Twelve hours too long,” he sighs. When he makes a move to take another sip of his coffee, he pouts at the realization his cup is empty. “I could barely sleep.”

“We could’ve met another day, you know?”

“I know. I wanted to see you.” He’s not flirty, but upfront. You like it. “Did you think of anything to do?”

“Well, you look like you could fall out any minute now,” you half stall, half voice genuine concern. “Maybe we should wait until your next free day to actually do something?” You’re more than fine with just sitting here for a while longer and having a collection of brief conversations with him and looking at each other until he gets too sleepy or has to leave because of another early meeting in the morning.

“Are you sure?”

You’ve been speaking all day. This is a nice wind-down from repeating yourself and having to raise your voice.

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I sat in a cafe and just chilled,” you sigh, taking another glance at your surroundings. 

“I’m getting another cup. Do you want anything?”

--

A thousand a date seems… excessive. Sooyoung is high maintenance so it makes sense for her to want that much as a minimum, especially when she goes on a date once a week. But for you, that amount is a lot when meetups with Jaehyun are going to be really chill. So when he suggests two grand every week since you still couldn’t think of a price for your possible relationship, choking on the sip of tea you just took is a reasonable reaction.

“I mean, anything less wouldn’t make much sense to me. You’re a teacher so you probably don’t make that much when student loans are involved, right?”

You blink stupidly at his bluntness. “Well, yes. But--”

“Do you have someone to help pay your bills?”

“No…”

“And you said you have goals. I want to help invest in those. Are you opposed to that?”

“Not at all.”

“So what’s the problem?” If he partakes in the debating and persuading at work, you’re sure deals end with additional zeros in his bank account. He has you stumped and you’re almost positive he proved his point with little to no thinking process required. “I was actually going to suggest more, but I figured we’d start off small. Do you just feel uncomfortable with that amount?”

It’s interesting yet almost frustrating how he’s kept the straightest face this whole discussion. Just sipping on his coffee and never breaking eye contact. You need to take notes so that your higher ups take you seriously when you address an issue. 

“No, it’s not that.”

“So,” he clears his throat, sliding a piece of paper and pen closer to you, “do we have a deal?”

“I guess we do.” You sign the contract (that you’ve already looked over a couple times) and shake his hand when he presents it in front of you. “You’re intimidating when you talk business, you know.”

His smile is wide as he shakes his head, telling you he’s been told once or twice. 

Big, excited brown eyes stare down at you as you hold Nala up in the air and softly wiggle her. Her tail wags wildly when the click and push of your front door resonates throughout your home.

“Babe?”

“In here!” you call, still giving your baby your undivided attention.

Sooyoung walks in the living room, leather pants and a fur coat adorning her figure. She tsks at the way you’re laid out on your couch, completely neglecting the powerpoints and Kahoots you were making a while ago. “Procrastination at its finest.”

Nala is taken out of your grasp and Sooyoung gives her the same treatment you just were, so you take the time to stand and stretch. “You shouldn’t have asked me out while I was in my zone. Now I’m not touching that until tomorrow,” you wave in the general direction of your Macbook.

She snorts and sits down while you go to your room to get ready for your date.

The two of you walk into a bar with R&B Hip Hop playing at the perfect volume some time later. The lights are dim and set the perfect mood for drinking and catching up. She leads you to sit at the bar and orders the both of you something that won’t exactly get you fucked up, seeing that the both of you have jobs to attend to in the morning. 

“So,” Sooyoung spins towards you, crossing her legs dramatically. 

“So?”

“Jaehyun. Tell me about him. How are things going?”

You learned from the first few times of being with Jaehyun that you’ll be doing most of the talking, but he always responds and asks a question or two, genuinely interested if the tick of his eyebrow means anything. It’s nice to have someone new to share stories with, especially since your schedule clashes with your best friend’s. Also because within the last couple of years, most of your experiences with guys have been the same: mostly physical attraction from both sides and it turning into a relationship where you get the shit end of the stick and get hurt. When it comes to Jaehyun, yes the physical attraction is there, but though you don’t know much about each other, you enjoy the platonic bond that’s building… as well as your growing savings account. You don’t text unless someone sends a simple have a great day at work or good night text (and when it’s sent to you, you usually find yourself smiling before getting out of bed or falling asleep). You never talk about anything deep like your past, dreams for the future (aside from briefly discussing the business you want to start up eventually), or theories about life, but the trivial conversations you have about work and the news and whatever else is always enough. 

“He’s kind of awkward but it’s nothing unbearable,” you begin, eyes wandering as you think of ways to describe him. “He’s tall, fine as hell for him to be almost twice my age, and…” you trail off, head tilting as you think.

She looks at you impatiently. “And what?”

“He’s such a gentleman,” you finally come up with. “I get to do whatever I want with no complaints, he makes sure my fridge and pantry are stocked, and doesn’t require a lot of my time. I can’t complain at all. Especially when he’s investing in me.”

“Show me what he looks like again.”

You pull up a picture you took with him during your museum date and hand her the phone. 

“You look good together,” she compliments after a while of observing the photo. 

You agree. 

“You sure you wanna keep up your abstinence when he’s your sugar daddy?”

You scoff lightheartedly, taking your phone back. “Is that all you think about?”

“I mean, no, but,” She gestures weirdly with her hands. “He looks like that. And he clearly treats you amazing. I would’ve been busted it open for him.”

“We both agreed on sugarless interactions,” you humph proudly. “But if this lasts a while, I would consider it.”

No point in bullshitting her when she’s known you for over a decade. You’ve been abstinent since your last relationship because you don’t like the thought or feeling of sharing such intimate energy with someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you or wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you caught a flat on the side of the road. Your last few situations with men haven’t been the best and you’ve chosen to focus on healing and growing, and most times than not, sex has interrupted that healing and growing. You don’t want to repeat the same lessons after learning them.

“Is someone crushing on their sugar daddy?” she practically sings around her straw, eyes full of mischief.

“I can’t talk well about someone without having a crush on them?”

“‘He’s such a gentleman,’” Sooyoung repeats in an exaggerated dreamy voice, topping off her performance by dramatically fitting her chin in the hand that’s propped up by her elbow on the bartop. “You already knew he wasn’t going to act like guys our age but you’re still gushing over him and considering fucking him.”

“Crush is too strong of a word,” you roll your eyes at the knowing smile she gives you. “He’s kind, attractive, successful, respectful, and helps me out financially in addition to expanding and stocking my wine collection. How else am I supposed to feel?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Plus, he’s pretty...” you trail off to find the right word. “Guarded. We only talk about me or surface level things. Kinda hard to really like someone you hardly know.”

“Don’t act like you’re not into the mysterious type,” Sooyoung says flatly before sipping. “There was Sehun, Hyungwon, H–”

“How’s Yuta been treating you?” 

And that’s all it takes to direct the conversation to her life and stop coming for yours. She gives too many explicit details but you can’t find it in you to complain because her stories are always interesting as fuck and you aren’t getting any action. She doesn’t exactly have feelings for him, only caring about how great the sex is and the amount of money that goes into her bank account, so she can’t quite relate to the very slow building fondness you feel for Jaehyun. She was right, though. The concoction of his attractiveness, success, and mysteriousness has definitely made you develop a crush. You have other things to worry about, so you don’t exactly think too much of it and just enjoy your time with him a few times a month. 

You call it a night after one more drink, and on your way out your phone vibrates. 

[10:50pm] Jaehyun: Brunch tomorrow? 

[10:51pm] you: Sounds good

[10:56pm] Jaehyun: I’ll pick you up at 11:30. 

You can’t help but smile at the image of Jaehyun in his work attire, sitting in the booth with a grease-stained menu in his hands as he figures out what he wants to order. Brunch didn’t go quite as planned with the work you had to finish, but dinner worked perfectly for the both of you.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

Your smile only widens. “Didn’t expect you to be the hole-in -the-wall burger joint type, is all.”

“I’m treating myself,” he explains. “Yesterday was a successful day and what better way to treat myself than a greasy meal and your company?”

Your brows shoot up at his last couple of words. “My company, huh?”

He nods, averting his attention to the menu again. Though you want to press the situation a little more, you drop it, but you’re now smiling for a different reason. 

“So you said yesterday was successful?”

“Mhm. I closed an important deal and it was finalized yesterday.”

 “Congratulations. Our ideas of treating ourselves are certainly different, but I’m glad to be your treat,” You wink, having one more jab at him. And the color of his ears deepen. 

Somewhere in the midst of ordering and having small talk, the topic of stocks and investment comes up. 

“One of the smartest things I’ve ever done for the company was to invest in Bitcoin and that’s basically why I got the opportunity to run the office here,” he tells you.

“I kind of understand the concept, but I don’t understand the benefits and all that.”

This prompts Jaehyun to go on a lengthy explanation of how it works. He explains something called Blockchain then how the rapper 50 Cent accidentally got a lot of money because he invested in it when a fan of his wanted to buy an album and that was their only form of payment. You prop your elbow up and rest your chin in your palm, his words go straight over your head. In the middle of explaining how Blackbear got rich off of it and that’s why he makes terrible music now, he pauses and blinks.

“I didn’t mean to go on a tangent, I’m sorry.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t apologize, I wanna hear more.”

He looks at you skeptically, so you slip your foot in between his calves and look at him expectantly. You don’t understand the details but you appreciate the topic because it’s something he’s interested in and it’s the first time you’ve seen him talk about something with this much passion. His eyes were shiny and everything. 

You raise your eyebrows and blink until he picks the conversation back up. 

The glint in his eyes comes back while the two of you eat. Yeah, definitely crushing. 

You open your front door after a loud, sudden knock resounded throughout your apartment to find no one, but instead a few boxes and a bag waiting for you on your door mat. You tilt your head to the side and think for a moment. You didn’t order anything. 

Looking into the red bag to see if there’s a sign or clue of who these came from, you find a white envelope with your name written in cursive on it. With another glance around you, you decide to open everything inside instead. It’s cold. The packages range in size, so you pick up the smaller packages and kick the biggest one inside of your apartment. 

Seated at your dining table, you open the envelope and pull the card out. 

Saw these and thought of you. I hope you like everything. -Jaehyun 

You fight the smile that wants to take over your face. You figured it was him or Sooyoung. Your best friend likes to send you random things when she comes across something she knows you’d like but wouldn’t buy yourself. 

Actually looking at the bag, Cartier is written across it, and your eyes widen. Inside, there are two different sized boxes. The smaller one is their love ring, and the bigger one is the matching bracelet, both in yellow gold. With a grin, you nibble on your lower lip and read the card that comes with the jewelry. 

Too excited to wait until you look at the other packages, you slip the ring on your middle finger. It doesn’t go past your second knuckle, so you try your ring finger, and it fits perfectly. Next is the bracelet, which is a bit loose, but you’re sure that’s an easy fix. 

Grabbing your phone, you take a picture of the jewelry on you and send it to your sugar daddy.

[1:23pm] you: Thank you so much, Jaehyun. I love them.

His reply comes a lot quicker than you’d expected.

[1:24pm] Jaehyun: Of course. How do they fit?

[1:26pm] you: I could size down on the bracelet but the ring is perfect. 

[1:27pm] Jaehyun: We’ll get that fixed soon. Did you get everything else I sent?

Oh yeah. There is more. You put the jewelry back in the respective boxes and move on to the biggest box, which turns out to be a blender and juicer in one. This actually brings the smile out. The last time the two of you were together, you’d said in passing that you want to start making your own juices and smoothies and stuff instead of buying the processed ones from stores. 

The next box is a few bottles of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti and now your teeth are showing with how much bigger your smile gets. 

[1:35pm] you: Yes I just opened them! I appreciate everything, thank you Jae.

[1:40pm] Jaehyun: Anytime, beautiful. Remember, you can ask me for anything you want and I’ll get it, okay? [1:41pm] Jaehyun: I want you to actually tell me when you want or need something [1:41pm] Jaehyun: And we’re still good for Saturday, right? I want to pamper you a little. 

He’d mentioned it the last couple of dates, that he’d like you to send him pictures and screenshots of things you’d want and need when you come across them, to not worry about spending your own money when you’ve got him. 

[1:45pm] you: Yes sir. And I’m all yours Saturday. 

The moment you step into the nail salon, an older woman at the front greets you with a genuine smile and welcomes Jaehyun back.

“The usual?” she asks Jaehyun, to which he nods and returns her smile. “And what about you, honey?”

“A full set with gel polish, please.”

She grabs a basket of the gel polish swatches and hands it to you. “When you’re ready you can go to seat three.”

You eye the colors, but the same few colors you always gravitate towards catch your eye. 

“Hey,” you call quietly to get Jaehyun’s attention. “Can you pick a color for me?”

Not only would you like a change, you’re also curious about his taste. He wears nothing but neutral colors, as far as you know, so you wonder if it’s just for the job or if he is really just that simple of a man. 

The lady on the other side of desk three smiles brightly at you as you put your purse on the hook next to you. “Did you pick a color yet?”

You point to Jaehyun, “I let him decide for me today.”

Her eyebrows slowly rise. “He’s finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” she asks the woman beside her. They just exchange a look that you don’t quite understand or care enough to try to understand.

Right as she begins prepping your second hand, Jaehyun sits down beside you at desk two and sets his chosen color beside you.

A neutral pink. Fitting for the season, but a color you definitely would’ve chosen yourself. 

“This with the white tips. I like that look,” he explains. Good taste. You haven’t had french tips in a while. 

He watches the nail technician he was assigned to as she works, the two having small talk and you take a wild guess that she’s the woman who usually, if not always, does his manicures, meanwhile you watch the tv above your tech’s head. This compilation of aesthetically pleasing videos is playing and it’s admittedly hard to take your eyes off of it. 

The video plus getting pampered has you relaxed in your seat, the stress from the school week that just ended melting away. Your nail technician is so gentle with you, you could doze off. She eventually asks a few questions like if you’re from around the area, if you know there’s a bruise on the middle finger of your dominant hand (from holding pens/pencils all damn day) and more all in a gentle voice, and before you know it she’s done with the structure of the acrylic and the filing, sending you off to rinse your hands off well.

You come back to the sight of Jaehyun stifling a big yawn behind his free hand, shaking his head as if to gather himself right after. Once again, instead of getting some rest after a long flight, he’s out with you. This is the third time. A big part of you is flattered, really, because you enjoy being with him and the feeling is clearly mutual. But, you’re sure he didn’t get proper rest last night or today.

You stick your right hand out for the tech to start on and place your free hand on his bicep to gain his attention. He blinks at you, confused, and you ignore the sudden warmth that spreads in your chest at the adorable look on his face. 

“Why do you keep postponing sleep to take me out?” you ask.

The blinking continues, taken aback at getting called out. “Because I look forward to being with you after business trips?” he asks more than states, and you just continue to admire his straightforwardness. 

“Do you trust me to drive back?” You caress his blushing cheek with your thumb because you can’t help yourself when the color fades in, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans into the touch, much to your surprise. “You look like you could fall out any second.”

He nods slowly and you return the gesture with a smile, muttering out a soft ‘okay’ before putting your hand back in front of you. 

“I’m glad to see you’ve found someone that can deal with your busy schedule,” his nail tech says, sighing like a relative that’s been waiting for him to get married for the longest. “You two are a lovely couple.”

The two of you thank her, both glancing at one another. 

“Speaking of schedules,” Jaehyun says as if just remembering something. “Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Not if you need me.” Saturday was just going to be spent reviewing lesson plans and doing self-care with Bella.

His dimples appear at your response. “We have a business event to attend to.”

“Ah,” You nod and squint in mock suspicion. “You’re buttering me up to surround me with a whole bunch of men talking about boring business stuff. Got it.”

“It’s not even like that,” he chuckles deeply. “You know I need you by my side.”

And yeah, that is in the contract, but the tone of his voice and look in his eyes make you believe that your agreement isn’t the only reason for his words. Now you’re the one with a warm face.

Back in the front of the salon, after Jaehyun has paid, he gently grabs your hand and lifts it up to look at your nails. He nods, satisfied with how they look, clasping your hands together to lead you out of the salon. Not before thanking and saying goodbye to the staff.

Jaehyun opens the door of the driver’s side with his free hand and gestures for you to get in. When you just stand there, he says: “You said you’d drive, right?”

“You’re one hundred percent sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Your initial thought is why would you be because even Taeyong doesn’t let you drive his baby, but you don’t question him further. You just slip into the car and he’s fighting a smile at the way all of your teeth are showing due to your excitement. He closes the door and makes his way into the passenger seat. 

You’ve never felt so giddy to adjust mirrors and the seat of a car before. 

“Where to?” you ask, seatbelt on and ready to go.

“The mall we passed on the way here. I saw something I thought you might like.”

You absolutely adore the matching Saint Laurent bag and heels; black with gold accents. 

“Oh wow.”

Jaehyun’s reaction to you opening your front door is enough to let you know he thinks you look as good as you feel, if not better. Admittedly, the heels are the most uncomfortable pair you’ve ever walked in, but when they look this pretty, paired with the sleek, tight emerald dress that you were gifted a couple days ago with a note reminding you of tonight’s events, who really cares about comfort? You’ll likely be sitting down most of the night, anyway. 

You smile slyly at his lack of words. “Hey, handsome. Come in, I’m almost done.”

“You smell good,” is what he says as he walks past you and into your home, and you’ll take it. You did bring out your favorite scent tonight after all. 

“Thank you,” you chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe you walk a tad bit slower than usual because you have a great feeling he’s watching you as you disappear into your room. You grab your purse and trench coat, check your lip gloss, then make your way back to where you left Jaehyun. 

“Sorry,” he begins as you walk up to him, prompting you to raise a brow. “Good evening. You look amazing and I was lost for words for a moment.”

“Thank you,” you repeat. You fix the flap of his tuxedo jacket as you return the compliment. “And thanks for the dress. You have a weirdly good eye for what looks good on me.”

“When I saw the dress I just knew,” Jaehyun shrugs, eyes definitely on what the neckline exposes before they move up to your eyes. “Ready?”

On the way to the event, Jaehyun gives you a small rundown of what to expect. 

“Most of the people you’ll meet are cool, they may talk your head off, though.”

“Nothing I’m not used to,” you shrug. Being a teacher calls for lengthy conversations you’d rather not participate in. “‘Most,’ though?”

“There are a few guys I’m personally not fond of and wouldn’t be working with them if it weren’t for my father’s connection.”

You nod. “I’m sure I can make interactions a little more digestible for you. I mean, that is why I’m here.”

“Just let me know if it becomes too much. I’m not opposed to leaving early.”

You’re sure you’ll be fine, but you hum in affirmation.

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“My restaurant.” Of course he owns a restaurant. “When we have special occasions I shut it down to the public and we have our events there.” 

You lightly hit his shoulder. “You’ve had a restaurant this whole time but let me struggle to pick somewhere to eat for the last couple of months?”

He grins, grabbing the hand that hit him to kiss your knuckles apologetically. 

“It’s cute to watch,” he admits, laughing at the glare you send him. 

It’s almost as if Jaehyun turns into a different person when the two of you step into the restaurant. Instead of the shy smiles you’re used to, you’re met with the sight of his grin and lidded eyes as he returns the greetings he gets while you walk past the bar where most of the men are seated and standing around to wherever he leads you, left hand on the small of your back. Even the smile he gives a few that show all his teeth don’t give you the usual feeling you’ve grown accustomed to. The usual warmth in your chest travels down to your abdomen as you witness him in his element, around his employees, business partners, and others. You smile and follow Jaehyun’s lead perfectly, but in the breaks between speaking to random people you catch yourself looking at him from the corner of your eye.

Yeah, you like this side of him.

You’re led to a table and Jaehyun pulls a seat out for you to settle down in. 

“What do you want to drink?” he asks, hands still on the back of your seat from pushing it in, bent down to your level. And your body decides to become hyper aware of his proximity, of his minty breath fanning against your ear. You turn to catch his gaze, and he licks his lips. 

“What are my options?”

His response is a deep hum, followed by: “I’m sure I’ve got whatever you have a taste for.”

You squint a little, observing him.

“Yeah?” you ask. And the grin you receive in return confirms your suspicions. He’s flirting. 

“Whatever you’re getting is fine.” 

“I’ll be back. No one should bother you,” he promises before he’s off to the bar.

No one is apparently a tall man with long, black hair that’s pushed back and an undercut. And a smile you can’t decipher. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, beautiful,” is the first thing he says, leaning his weight onto the hands he sets on the table. “I’m John.”

You look him up and down. “Nice to meet you, John.”

You’re stuck on introducing yourself, unsure if he really knows who you are. You remember his face when vague introductions were made, but he’s the only one that has done more than just stare and smile at you. You briefly look in the direction Jaehyun left to and he has a flute in each hand, caught up talking to an older man.

“I’m not trying to get at you,” he reassures you with a laugh. “I take it you’ve never heard of me and I’m hurt, honestly. I’m Jaehyun’s best friend.”

That explains a lot. 

“John.” Champagne is set down in front of you, but before you can thank him, he’s speaking to your new acquaintance. “Let’s not do that thing you like to do.”

“Am I not important to you?” Johnny asks dramatically after they give each other a hug. Jaehyun ignores him as he sits down beside you “You’d think after all these years I’d come up in conversation with your–”

“You’re doing the thing,” Jaehyun interrupts. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

John’s smile is slick but he leaves without another word. But not without a wink that makes Jaehyun’s face somehow get straighter. 

“He’s your best friend?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink. It’s dry going down, and you make a mental note to get something else once you’ve finished this flute. 

“I question myself on it, too.” The drink goes down smoother for Jaehyun. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, though.”

“You’re a big question mark,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I just don’t know much about you.”

There’s a moment of silence as he slowly nods his head, and you almost regret saying anything. While your best friend was right about mysterious guys being your type, you’d think after being in each other’s company for so long you’d know a little more about him than just the basics and his everyday life. With the tiny crush you’ve acquired, your curiosity has increased, but you’ve never brought the matter up because you almost feel as if it isn’t your place to. 

“What do you want to know about me?” he finally asks. His flute is set on top of the table and he leans into you, giving you his full attention.

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing. Nothing crazy like your childhood trauma or anything but I’m just interested in you as a person.”

You enjoy the small details you learn about him each time you meet, you just want to go a little deeper than the surface. You’ve gotten the chance to hear about his family and his relationship with them a little, but you’d like more. 

You don’t think you’re doing this sugar baby thing correctly. You probably shouldn’t be so invested in who Jaehyun is as a person outside of his status and money wiring. You definitely shouldn’t be liking him to the extent that you do. 

The man beside you hums, rolling his lips together like everything you’ve said since John left requires extra processing, which leads you to down more of the dry drink anxiously. 

He ends up scooting his chair closer to yours. 

“I’ve been told I’m boring,” he confesses.

“Quiet, maybe,” you correct him. “But I doubt you’re boring.”

“Ask me whatever you’re interested in knowing about and I guess I’ll let you be the judge. Does that sound good to you?”

Nervousness transmutes into excitement that you have to bite down, literally biting your lip to stop yourself from smiling at this little breakthrough. 

“Sounds great.”

“You have to reciprocate, though,” is Jaehyun’s condition. “I definitely want to get to know more about you, too.”

--

More of Jaehyun’s close friends and the employees that aren’t afraid to walk up to him and speak about something other than work come by the pair of you, and you’re perfectly content with mostly just sitting on the sidelines and observing. Dinner won’t actually start for another half hour, apparently, so now is when everyone is mingling. Comments have been made about how the two of you look good together, even some separate compliments about you, but mainly directed at him. 

An older man puts a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, making his presence known and stealing his attention away from the conversation Jaehyun is having with an intern that so clearly looks up to him. One glance up tells you all you need to know about this man. Jaehyun’s smile turns fake. 

“Mr. Park,” he greets politely, nodding to the intern to silently tell him they’ll talk later while standing, hovering over the elder. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you on the big deal again,” Mr. Park says, gaze trailing down to you. You throw him a polite smile. “And to say hello to the beautiful woman you’ve been hiding from us.”

And there it is. The compliment is completely different from the one John indirectly gave you, his tone enough to create an uncomfortable atmosphere. You slowly rise to your feet anyway, extending your hand towards him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Park.”

“And she’s got manners,” he continues. Your hand is grasped, but lifted up to his mouth, and he plants a kiss onto your knuckles. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

As you pull your hand away, you introduce yourself. You discretely wipe your hand off onto your dress and intertwine your fingers with Jaehyun’s. 

“A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.” The line is as outdated as he is but you keep a pleasant expression on, thanking him. “Why is this my first time seeing you?”

“Conflicting schedules,” you say. “But I had to come and celebrate with him this time.”

“You’ve caught a good one,” the elder man winks. “Better keep her close. Never know who’d want to take your place.”

His laugh annoys you. The sound is high pitched and almost taunting. 

“Very unlikely they’d get the chance to, but thank you for the compliment.” You lift your hand to caress the nape of Jaehyun’s neck, getting him to look down at you. “He’s perfect, how could anyone else even compare?”

And there’s the shy smile you’re familiar with. 

“Yeah?” Jaehyun asks, so you continue to milk your performance for Mr. Park. 

“Mhm,” you nod, letting your hand rub down his chest, intensifying your gaze. Nothing but solid muscle is felt beneath the fabric of his shirt. “You know how good you make me feel.”

Jaehyun doesn’t have a comeback, but his smile widens as he lets go of your hand to slide it to the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him—he smells so good. He cranes his neck down until his nose brushes your own. Having him this close, his breath fanning over your mouth, your own breathing gets heavier. At the corner of your eye, the older man continues to watch the interaction, and when you lift your chin just a little to brush your glossy lips against Jaehyun’s, your audience finally takes the hint, telling you it was nice to meet you and congratulating your date before briskly walking off. 

“Was that too much?” you whisper when it’s just the two of you. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

Jaehyun laughs, more to himself, caressing your exposed back with his thumb. “Not at all.”

“I don’t like him,” you confess, hand still on his chest. Peeling your body from his own isn’t an appealing thought right now. He doesn’t make a move to do so, either. “He made me uncomfortable so I had to return the feeling. I hope he enjoyed the show.”

“So I’m perfect, huh?” The brunet prompts, a teasing smile playing on his lips. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the perfect package,” you say matter of factly. “You’re kind, respectful, successful, and handsome with a great head on your shoulders…” The sight of his tongue swiping over his lower lip–licking over your peach flavored gloss– momentarily distracts you. 

“Even though you don’t know much about me, you still think so highly of me?” Did his voice get even deeper somehow? 

“I’m sure you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in your closet but who doesn’t? And after seeing you interact with everyone I can see why half of them look up to you.”

You can’t get your eyes off of the lower half of his face, can’t find it within you to care that he’s definitely noticed by now. Especially when he smiles, the skin around his nose creating what looks like whiskers. 

“I guess I know who to go to whenever I doubt myself now, huh?”

Smoothing your hand back up to the nape of his neck, you hum. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good.”

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips again before he clears his throat, hand slipping to your waist as he takes his time detaching from you. Your own hand drops pathetically. “Do you want another drink?” 

“Just water, please.”

At his lack of presence, you sit back down, blinking in disbelief. Jaehyun’s a smart man. He has to know how him touching you like that—holding you like that—affected you. Every interaction makes you fall for him a little more, makes you desire him a lot more. 

You close your eyes and sigh. “I like to think I’m good at making people feel good,” you mock yourself under your breath. 

When you peek at Jaehyun while he’s at the bar, you notice he takes a moment to himself to take a deep breath, laughs to himself, and shakes his head before proceeding to get two glasses of the water you requested.

Spring break. 

A week without having to wake up at the asscrack of dawn, without three periods of high schoolers getting on your damn nerves, in addition to a few teachers having sticks so far up their asses and other unorganized, difficult staff and faculty. Not as long as winter break but the weather is nicer and you can go to the beach to relax and unwind this year.

Taeyong’s girlfriend has a beach house that she told him to invite you to because she knows with your profession you’d highly appreciate the peace and quiet, and you agreed immediately, your bags packed containing mostly bathing suits and sundresses. A week at the beach where you don’t have to put much effort into doing your hair and makeup unless someone decides they want to go out for dinner? Perfect. 

“Hellooo?”

Taeyong appears a few seconds after his greeting, holding up an untouched smoothie in one hand and a brown bag you’re sure has a muffin in it in the other one. Bless his soul.

He has a big smile on his face and the black rimmed sunglasses with red lenses that you got him for his birthday and a sweatsuit similar to the one you’ve got on. 

“Aw, you wanna be like me.”

He rolls his eyes once he sees what you’re talking about. “Are you ready?”

You scan your bed. Toiletry bag, chargers and hair products and tools inside of your suitcase, check. Shoe bag, check. Accessories, check.

“Ready,” you nod, finishing up by zipping up your suitcase and shoe bag.

When he’s by your side he bumps your hip with his, telling you he’s got your bags and to just take what’s in his hands.

“I know you haven’t eaten yet,” he gives you a parental look and effortlessly picks your heavy ass suitcase up to settle it on the floor and extend the handle. “so I got you something small because Seulgi is cooking for us right now.”

You hum a thanks, slipping your slides on.

“Be good while I’m gone, okay?” you coo to Nala as you pick her up and hold her out in front of you. She lets out a tiny bark. “I’ll miss you too, sweetie.”

A kiss to the top of her furry little head before she’s free to roam around as she pleases.

“Don’t forget the alarm.”

“Yes, mother,” you mock, and when his mouth opens to ask another question you quickly add, “I texted Jisung the code and Nala’s schedule. Now go.”

When your music starts playing in the car, Taeyong side eyes you.

“You listen to the same three songs, Tae,” you deadpan.

He doesn’t even try to deny it, instead, starting up a conversation on what you’re not going to do to embarrass him since it’s your first time meeting his girlfriend.

--

Taeyong gently sets down all of the bags at the front door, then beckons you to follow him quietly. 

Music is blasting and a feminine voice is singing along. When you two round the corner you’re greeted with the sight of hips moving side to side, her back to the two of you as she cooks.

There’s already plates set up at the table on the other side of the kitchen, and in the middle of the wooden tabletop, there’s a variety of sides, a bottle of wine that has recently become your favorite, and another bottle of sparkling water.

You stay put at the entrance of the kitchen while Taeyong sneaks up behind her, hands behind his back as he leans close to say something you can’t hear in her ear. Her voice cracks when she screams, body turning around to immediately fight him, fists positioned until she sees it’s just her boyfriend. She calls him a jerk and pouts, but then her arms are around his neck for a quick hug and kiss, eyes widening at something else he says before her attention snaps to you. A big smile takes over her face and she all but pushes him away to make a beeline for you.

“Will you be uncomfortable if I hug you right now?”

You blink. “No?”

She wastes no time to do just that, rocking you side to side with a sigh. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Taeyong’s told me so much about you,” she laughs, giving you a big squeeze before letting you go. “Hi, I’m Seulgi. I asked Taeyong what you like to eat but he’s no help and he wouldn’t give me your number,” she rolls her eyes. “He said something about you being embarrassing.”

Not only is her beach house lovely, with a beautiful view of the beach that you haven’t even fully gotten to see yet, she’s gorgeous and kind. You like her already.

“I’m not picky,” you wave dismissively, Taeyong snorting, “nor am I embarrassing,” you direct a glare at your cousin when he passes on his way to get the luggage.

It would’ve been nice to have a chat or two with her before officially meeting.

“Let me show you your room.”

Seulgi grabs your hand softly and leads you up the stairs, makes a right then opens the second door on the left.

Huge bed with black and white sheets and a white comforter, huge tv on a black wooden dresser that matches the nightstand beside the bed.

“Sorry for how dark it is, my sister decorated it.”

Taeyong comes in and sets your bags in front of the bed, then he’s got an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Closet is right there,” Seulgi points to a door on the right side of the main door, “bathroom is here,” her finger flies to the other side of the room. “If you need a nice bath you’re free to use the one in our room, just let me know so we can get out of your way. Any questions or concerns?”

“Nope,” you take another glance around the room. “I’m good. Thank you for letting me stay here.”

She gently swats a perfectly manicured hand at you. “Please, if you ever need to get away from the city for a couple of days just let me know, you’re always welcome to stay.”

You might be looking at her the same way Taeyong is right now. Completely enamored.

A timer sounds from downstairs, Seulgi perking up.

“Food’s done. Come down whenever you’re ready,” she says to you and Taeyong, patting him on the back before heading downstairs.

“I love her.”

Taeyong laughs with a nod, taking a seat at the foot of your bed. “Yeah, me too. I knew the two of you would hit it off but I was still nervous.”

“When you fuck up I’m snatching her,” you say with a wide smile as you walk out of the room.

Lunch goes amazingly. There’s endless conversation filled with learning about each other and you only try to embarrass your cousin once just because of the lecture in the car, to which you earned a flick on the forehead for, but Seulgi pinched his arm for you. You get both sides of the story on how they met at the gym, your cheek in your palm as you watch the couple reminisce with banter and heart eyes, appreciating the display of love.

Clothes get changed into bathing suits and then the three of you are walking barefoot in the sand, headed closer to the ocean. The walk is short, and only a couple of minutes later towels and lounge chairs are spread out, the cooler filled with water bottles and wine coolers is set down somewhere in between, and all of you are lying down under the sun.

The star is blazing and you’ll never admit it to him, but you’re thankful Taeyong asked if you applied sunblock before you stepped outside (“I’m a responsible adult, Taeyong. Of course I did.”). The breeze against your skin is pleasant combined with the bright, hot sun. 

Conversation naturally slips into silence, Seulgi on her stomach to tan her back, Taeyong up and becoming one with the ocean because he takes astrology seriously now. You check the texts Jisung sent less than an hour ago, updating you on how the walk with Nala went and that he ate all of your grapes with a smiling emoji. Your eyes roll when you tell him to eat all he wants.

A soft call of your name takes your attention off of your phone and directs it to the woman the voice came from.

“Yeah?”

“Are you in a relationship?”

You snort. “I’m very single.”

An intrusive thought of Jaehyun surfaces, but you push it out just as fast as it arrived.

She frowns.

“I’ll try to keep down the affection with Taeyong in front of you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Even with her invitation, you’re the one that’s kind of interrupting a romantic vacation, whether they view it that way or not. Your plan is to be a ghost, chill on the beach and read as much as you can and let the couple do all of their couple activities without the thought of you being here until it’s time for dinner or any other group event.

“Don’t worry about me,” you smile, adjusting your sunglasses. “I don’t mind PDA.”

“Just let us know if we’re being gross, okay?”

You nod, but you doubt you’ll catch them being gross often with how you’ve planned your visit.

An hour after Taeyong snatched your phone out of your hand and dropped it in the sand beside you to throw you over his shoulder and bring you into the water with him, you’re exhausted and smell like salt. You don’t know if a shower has ever felt this good before. The water’s temperature is just right, the pressure is great, the loofah that was waiting for you is perfect, and it could also be the many wine coolers and shots you downed, but you feel amazing. The more it sinks in that you don’t have to deal with fifteen through eighteen-year-olds nor do you have to plan anything for them for the next six days because you already lost sleep making sure you had papers printed and powerpoints made a week in advance, but your students do have homework and study guides complete before Monday, the lighter your body feels. Oh, you’re going to sleep amazingly tonight.

A long swipe of your hand across the foggy mirror shows you an image of you looking the most content you’ve seen yourself in a while. Your skin is a little darker than when you first arrived and glowing, Eyes heavy from the drinks and sleepiness, the smallest of smiles playing on your lips. 

Tightening your towel around you, you get to work combing your drenched hair out. There’s music playing from the speakers around the house, faint but loud enough to recognize the beat, your hips moving along to it. You squeeze some product into your hand then smooth it throughout the detangled half of your head before doing the same on the other side. 

The calm atmosphere is ruined by your name getting called by a familiar yet unexpected voice and your body jumps because of it. The mirror has cleared up for the most part and when you lift your eyes from the reflection of your fingers in your hair to the reflection on the man in dark clothing you scream, bringing your hand to the secured knot that’s  keeping your towel and turning around. 

What the actual fuck.

“Shit, Jaehyun,” you place your free hand over your heart, exhaling loudly.

A loud call of your name from your cousin sounds from downstairs but you’re too busy staring at the man in front of you dumbly. He’s looking at you the same way. Heavy footsteps up the stairs end when two concerned faces pop up behind him before you can open your mouth and ask how the hell the two of you are in the same place right now.

“Oh,” Seulgi says, wide eyes moving back and forth between the two of you before she pushes Jaehyun into the room that you now know is behind the extra door you peeped before getting into the shower and her voice goes out as she asks, “when did you even get here?”

The look on Taeyong’s face shows he’s waiting for his girlfriend to be far enough away for him to ask, “Isn’t that-”

You nod. “Yep.”

“Come downstairs when you’re done?” Seulgi asks, popping her head back into the bathroom. Once you nod again, she pulls Taeyong away with her and shuts the door. 

You finish up your hair and get dressed quickly. You don’t understand how the hell you ended up in this kind of coincidence, but your buzzed mind doesn’t bother to try to put any pieces together, especially since you’re on the way downstairs to get answers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were on the way?” Seulgi asks from the kitchen.

“You knew I was coming…” Jaehyun’s deadpan voice makes you smile, but you straighten your face when you round the corner and get into their line of sight. You make your way beside Taeyong, whose eyebrows are pulled in as he stares at the side of the newcomer’s face. A touch of your hand on his arm relaxes his tense form and breaks his one-sided stare off, eyes soft when they land on you. Soon everyone’s attention is on you. Jaehyun doesn’t seem surprised anymore. More like he’s just taking in your reaction to everything, seeing how he should regard you.

“So I forgot to mention my cousin would be here,,” Seulgi starts with an awkward, apologetic smile. “And I forgot to mention you were coming,” she says, looking and pointing at you. She proceeds to introduce you and Taeyong to Jaehyun and vice versa.

You push yourself off the table and walk up to him, hand presented between you two for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

His lips go thin before he lets out an amused breath through his nose. He grabs your hand and gingerly shakes it. “Likewise.”

--

A knock on the half-closed door grants you access to the view of Jaehyun slowly sitting up on his bed, one hand caressing his chin while the other holds his phone. 

“So,” you hum, leaning against the doorframe. “Looks like we’re together this week after all.”

The other day he told you he’d be on vacation for a week so he couldn’t meet up with you, which was perfect because you were in the same situation, and now look at you. The cousin of the love of Taeyong’s life is the man you meet up with weekly. the man that adds money into your bank account weekly. You’ve sobered up since the bathroom incident and honestly, you’re pretty happy to spend more than a few hours at a time with him. 

“All week, at that.”

“I’m excited,” you admit. “If it storms, your bed is fair game, right?”

Jaehyun shakes his head with a smile, but responds with: “I’ll keep the doors unlocked.”

When you knock on Jaehyun’s door the next day around noon, it takes a moment for him to grant your entrance, and when you open it he’s on his laptop. 

“Is this not a vacation for you?” you tsk after catching a glimpse of the screen.

He lets out a deep chuckle. “It is, but-”

“No buts,” you interrupt him. “If it isn’t detrimental, I’d like your company on the beach.”

“So we’re not pretending we don’t know each other?”

You take a seat next to him on the edge of his bed. 

“Taeyong was there the first night we met,” you admit, to which Jaehyun nods. 

“You came prepared.”

“You could’ve been a creepy seventy-something year old man trying to get his dick wet,” you say, and he chuckles, nodding again. “I don’t think he’d say anything to Seulgi, honestly. But even if he did, we’re grown.” You shrug. 

Jaehyun saves a document and exits out of it, closing his laptop to put it to the side. He finally looks at you for more than a quick second, and his gaze lingers on the bikini and the see-through cover up you have on. 

“That’s a pretty color on you,” he compliments before getting up and walking to his suitcase. 

“Thank you.” You watch him as he squats down to open his luggage, rummaging through his clothes until he pulls out a pair of swim trunks. In your internal excitement that you’ve successfully pulled him away from work to come to the beach with you, you fail to decipher what the expectant yet amused look on his handsome face translates to when he’s back to his full height. 

“Are you comfortable?” Jaehyun asks, the corner of his mouth lifted. You open your mouth to question what he means but when he slowly lifts his shirt off, you understand. You nibble on the inside of your lip.

How bold do you want to be? 

You’re on vacation with your sugar daddy, even if that wasn’t the original plan. In a beach house, alone—the couple went out to get more groceries because Seulgi got carried away yesterday in the kitchen. You know exactly how you feel about the man before you, and even though he’s still hard to read, his glances and touches either give you an idea of how he might feel, or they just make you delusional. You doubt it's delusion, though, if you’re being honest. 

The contract, though. 

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” you finally say after a long moment of silently staring at one another. “Want me to pack any drinks for you?”

“It’s only noon.”

“You’re on vacation,” you counter, hand lingering on the door under the guise you’re just still having conversation. All of those hours in the gym have done him well. 

“A couple of beers wouldn’t hurt, I guess.” He shrugs. 

“There ya go,” you lilt, smiling widely, finally taking your leave. 

You’re definitely going to make the most of this trip. 

--

With only sunglasses and black swim trunks, Jaehyun makes his way towards you on the beach after a while. You’re in the midst of putting on sunscreen, struggling to reach the middle of your back.

“Do you need help?” he asks, sitting next to you on your lounge chair instead of the one you set up for him a couple of feet away. 

“Please,” you exasperate. You hand him the bottle and turn your back towards him. He rubs the lotion onto your back with the perfect pressure, starting from your shoulders and gradually making his way down to your lower back. Head tilting to the side, you let out a hum of appreciation. “I just know you give good massages.”

“I’ve only given one or two,” Jaehyun admits, hands still going even though he’s covered basically every inch of your back. His fingers slip under the horizontal strap, spreading outward and grazing over the side of your breasts. “Always been on the receiving end.”

“Well,” you sigh, enjoying his lingering touch. “I’ll gladly be your test dummy. I’ve got some knots in the back of my neck and my feet could definitely use some TLC.”

Jaehyun chuckles, adjusting your bathing suit strings before handing you the bottle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you need me to put some on your back?” you ask, happy to return the favor. 

He thinks about it for a moment before he nods and turns. You shake the bottle and pop the cap open before squeezing the sunscreen onto the palm of your hand, throw the bottle to the side and rub your hands together before running them up his back. 

“You talk about me,” Jaehyun laughs breathily when he shivers a bit at your touch. You hum in question, working your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles and having the need to release some of the tension while you’re here. You appreciate how his muscles feel under his smooth skin. “Might have to start going to you for my bi-weekly massages instead of the spa.”

You enjoy spending time with him. You enjoy learning new things about him. You really enjoy the intimate moments the two of you share.

“I think that’s something we could arrange.”

Finishing up, you rub the residual sunscreen on your hands down his arms and give a squeeze, signaling the end of his impromptu massage. 

“What’s the plan for the day?” Jaehyun asks once the two of you are laying side by side in the chairs. 

“Sit in the sun for a while, get in the water for a while, drink until I feel like I’m one with the ocean, and leave once I’m burnt out,” you list for him. “You down?”

He nods. “I am.”

And when it’s time to get in the ocean, the waves are stronger than you thought they’d be. Nothing crazy, but with how deep you wanted to go, the water smacks into your face sometimes.

“Come here,” Jaehyun finally says after laughing at your cute struggle. He grabs your waist and tugs you into his body, and after you place your hands on his shoulders, he lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. 

The added height and being pressed against his toned body make the experience even better. 

The rest of the time spent in the water goes by like this, not many words exchanged, but you lightly clinging onto him, his hold on you strong but not restricting, and the two of you just enjoy the surprisingly almost empty beach together. You leave when both of you are raisined, and come back to the beach house to Taeyong finishing preparing lunch. 

–

You can’t remember the last time you were in a jacuzzi. 

Taeyong urged you to get in because he wanted to spend some alone time with Seulgi while they cooked dinner for everyone and you had no qualms. You made sure to grab a bottle of wine and a wine glass before getting kicked out, though. 

You’re in the middle of pouring your second glass when you hear the sliding door open and close, then Jaehyun is walking towards you with a towel slung over his shoulder and blue swim trunks sitting low on his hips.

Is he genuinely this oblivious to how captivating he is?

“I got kicked out,” he tells you, kicking his flip flops off. 

“Join the club.” You raise your glass towards him before taking a sip. 

You watch him as he climbs in, settling down on the opposite side of where you’re sitting, arms spread out to his sides. There’s a still moment where you observe one another, a slight smile on his face while you continue to drink from your glass.

“I’m surprised you’re not sick of that wine by now.”

“It’s been my favorite since the night we met,” you admit, hiding a shy smile behind the rim of your glass. “I’m almost out of the stock you gave me.”

“I’ll send you some more when we get back,” Jaehyun promises. “Have you tried the white?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t want to open a bottle and waste it if I didn’t like it.”

“I want you to try it. It’s my favorite.“ He stands up and climbs back out of the hot tub. 

Jaehyun disappears and he’s in and out quickly with the bottle, bottle opener, and glass in hand, this time sitting closer to you when he’s back in the water. He fills up half of his glass before holding it out to you. Setting your own down, you grab Jaehyun’s and take a sip, swishing it around in your mouth to get rid of the other wine’s taste and swallowing before taking another to really taste it. 

“I like it.” You nod.

“Clearly not as much as the red,” Jaehyun laughs, taking the glass back to drink it himself. 

You don’t, but you might also just like it because he took it upon himself to get out of the jacuzzi when he’d only been sitting in it for a couple of minutes just to go back into where he got kicked out of, just so you can taste his favorite wine. Granted, Jaehyun is drinking it himself, but your mind focuses on how he possibly just got softly chewed out for going back in for you. 

“Why are you still single?” you practically sigh, not quite understanding how a man of his status, with his looks, kindness, and personality hasn’t been swept up and married by now. 

Jaehyun’s brow raises mid-sip.

“I could ask you the same,” he retorts instead of giving a real answer. You’ve known him long enough to know he won’t just give you the information you’re searching for, you’ve got to give him a piece of you before he returns the gesture. And you have no qualms.

“Well,” you start, turning towards him more, kicking your feet up so your heels rest upon his lap. He doesn’t even blink at the change of position. “I’m taking the time to build myself and the life I desire without too many distractions. I’ve had ideas and goals for myself and my future for years, but when I’d get into a relationship I always ended up slacking and pushing those goals aside for later. I’m now at a place in my life where I love myself enough to not let me sweep my goals under the rug for the love of someone else. I’m still young, I have time to find love after I’ve established myself to an extent that I’m more than content with.”

Jaehyun hums, setting his now empty glass aside before your foot is in his hands with his thumbs digging into your sole firmly. 

“Do you not think it’s possible to establish yourself and find love in the process?” he prompts.

“That hasn’t been the case thus far,” you chuckle, the sound trailing into a quiet groan. Whatever pressure point he just pressed into feels like heaven. “You sure you’ve never given a massage?”

The brunet flashes you a satisfied smile, shaking his head softly. “Sounds like your previous partners were distractions rather than supporters.”

“My taste in men was terrible,” you agree instantly. “I was always the one to love more and make more sacrifices for love while I got gaslit and mediocre sex in return.”

You’re saying more than you’d intended to, and you definitely blame your slight intoxication, but it’s actually nice to talk about this with someone who isn’t your cousin or your best friend. You don’t mind opening up to Jaehyun at all. His presence has been warm, inviting since day one, and he doesn’t give the impression to be one to judge. 

Jaehyun lifts your leg to dig into your calf muscle, resting your foot on his chest. “You have pretty feet.”

You laugh at his compliment, raising a teasing brow. “A foot fetish, huh?”

The corners of his mouth fight to not lift. “When was your last relationship?” 

“About a year and a half ago.” You set your glass next to his and fit your cheek into your propped up hand. “I’ve been abstinent since.”

Jaehyun’s eyes grow big. “Really?”

“It’s not that hard.” You shrug. “Definitely gets boring, though. But that discipline has allowed me to get further with my passions than ever before. Well, the discipline plus you.”

Jaehyun’s pretty fingers just so happen to find another spot, this time in your calf, that makes you practically whimper from the pleasurable pain. The moment of eye contact that comes right after lets you know you didn’t bite it down enough to mute the sound, as well as the way his movements falter. 

Clearing his throat, he asks, “From funding?”

“Mostly, yeah. But you’re a really disciplined person who many look up to. You even work on vacation,” you tsk lightheartedly. “The energy has rubbed off on me a little.”

“Being around you has definitely made me cut back on how much time I put into work.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ve gotten to actually spend uninterrupted time with Seulgi. And bond with Taeyong for the first time in what? Three years?” 

Now that he’s mentioned it, you realize just how much more frequent your meetups are in comparison to when you’d first met. You see him every week, and while every date isn’t full of long conversations and massages, he rarely checks his emails or ends nights sooner than expected because of early mornings ahead. 

“So basically I was a great addition to your life.” You nod, wiggling your leg out of his grasp then presenting your untouched foot for him to start working on. “Okay–your turn to talk.”

He sighs deeply, gaze dropping from your face to the task at hand. 

“I’m similar to you, in regards to being the one that loves more than being loved. I’ve always tried to be cautious because I’m a bit of an easy target.”

“How so?”

“I come from generational wealth and I love giving,” Jaehyun elaborates for you, glancing up at you briefly before watching his fingers knead into your calf. “Even with being cautious, I ended up falling for women who pretended to love me to reap the benefits of being associated with me.”

You hum, frowning a little. You’ve dealt with similar situations, only instead of being used for your money, you were used for your body and loyalty. 

“I was really in love with my ex, even Seulgi befriended her. One day Seulgi overheard her talking to someone on the phone, making plans to get flown out by some professional athlete. I don’t even know the whole story but I broke up with her and blocked her on everything before she could try to explain.”

The situation still hurts him, it’s evident by the sadness that washes over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jae.” You pout. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jaehyun gives you a small smile. “In hindsight, it was obvious she didn’t actually like me. I just liked her too much to leave without a reason, I guess.”

Story of your life. 

“How’d you get into this business then?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you.

“Like I said, I love giving. I love spoiling someone, typically only one person at a time, though.” Not that you ever really questioned or even thought about it before this very moment, a wave of warmth passes through your chest at knowing you’re the only one that gets to have these moments with Jaehyun. “And my friend has had a few babies and recommended it. I get to spoil someone–you, without having to assume you love me for me and not just my money and without getting my heart broken. Plus the benefits of having someone by my side at events.”

“Am I your baby?” you lilt, cheesing at the way the male fights a stupid grin.

“Yes,” he agrees easily. “You are my baby and I think we got lucky for this to be our first time.” 

You pull out of his hold to sit beside him, propping your elbow up to fit your cheek into your palm, and face him with a grin that tells him you’re about to drag this. “So I can actually call you daddy now? Because I really like how you just called me your baby.”

“If that’s what you want to do,” he laughs it off, moving to pour himself another half glass. “I’m not opposed.”

Your brows lift in surprise. 

“So you have a foot fetish and a daddy kink?” you tease.

“How much have you drunk tonight?”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

He scoffs behind his glass and mumbles, “I enjoy it more than I probably should.”

You let your grin reach your eyes as you just watch him take gulps instead of his usual sips. You’re getting somewhere now and there’s no way you’re going to let the moment slip through your fingers.

“There’s a lot more to enjoy,” you tell him, taking the glass out of his hand to finish the little amount of liquid inside. You like the flavor a little more than before.

Brown eyes follow the trail of your tongue as you lick off a droplet of wine from your bottom lip, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. 

“Is that so?”

“It’s up to you if you want to find out,” you tell him, still giving him time to reject your advances. Being so close to finally getting a taste of what you’d been wanting has your heart beating faster than before, and the only thing on your mind is finally crossing this line you’ve been straddling. 

“Maybe a preview.”

You sit up to lean into him, hooking a hand behind his neck to pull him down to your level. Testing the waters, you press a soft kiss to his lips, but when he presses back with no hesitation, you easily slot your lips with his. They’re soft and careful, just like the hand that comes up to your side to pull you even closer. 

You almost sigh into the kiss after watching his mouth as he spoke for the last couple of months, tilting your head to deepen it. Jaehyun easily follows, letting you lead the pace and intensity. 

After backing away a couple inches and observing him, Jaehyun’s eyes flutter open and show that he’d definitely be okay with continuing, but with your building desire for him, you don’t trust yourself to lean back in and end the exchange with just an innocent kiss. You did sign a contract after all. 

So you get up, carefully stepping out of the hot tub, grabbing the towel you brought out. You wrap the white cotton around your body and head to the back door, slide it open and walk inside. It smells good, and you let the couple know as much when you’re walking past the kitchen to make it upstairs quickly before you get fussed at. 

A cold shower ought to do it. 

Maybe you and Jaehyun should talk about what happened in the jacuzzi last night. 

You didn’t trust yourself to carry on a conversation after the moment you shared, with his eyes all lidded and lips red and just waiting for you to lean back in a repeat the action. At the dinner table there were silent glances, mostly his eyes zooming in on your mouth as you spoke then meeting your eye when he got caught. 

Everyone did their own thing today for the most part. Taeyong woke you up and you all had breakfast as a group, but after that, your cousin and his girlfriend said they’d be back later and walked out of the house. They came back when it was about to be dark.

Jaehyun claimed he had some work that he actually couldn’t wait until getting back into the office to do and disappeared into his room, leaving you to enjoy your second to last full day at the beach house by yourself. You sat out on the beach for hours until the sun exhausted you, finished your book, had a long FaceTime call with Sooyoung as you cooked and ate lunch, then took a nap until Taeyong and Seulgi got back in. 

You’d caught maybe two glimpses of your sugar daddy throughout the day before dinner, and while he conversed with you all, there was still something off. 

A loud crack of lightning jolts you out of your thoughts as you lay on your back in bed. Followed by thunder a few seconds later. You blink up, practically glaring at the sky like you could see it through the white ceiling. 

Heavy rainfall begins. 

You sigh deeply, but then the dramatic exhale is cut short when you remember the short interaction you had with the man on the other side of the bathroom your first night here. You slip your robe onto your body, slide into your slippers and grab your phone before walking through the bathroom and knocking on the door opposite of yours. 

It’s silent on the other end, even after another round of knocks, but the door gives in when you twist the knob experimentally. The sight of Jaehyun with his back against his headboard and laptop on his lap in dim lighting isn’t a shocking one. He’s got AirPods in, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song is playing, and you guess they’re on noise cancellation mode when you call out his name.

In your best attempt to not startle Jaehyun since his peripheral vision is blocked by his glasses, you pat the bed to get his attention, and that does the trick. His head quickly turns in your direction, and when he catches your gaze, he plucks one of his AirPods out. 

You point to the window to his right. “It’s storming.”

“It is,” he says matter-of-factly with a nod. After a moment of silence, his facial expression morphs into one of understanding. “Oh. It is. ”

“Is your bed still fair game?” you ask, nervous around him for the first time since you two met. “I won’t interrupt,” you gesture at his laptop.

“I was just finishing up, actually.” 

You take that as a yes. 

He saves whatever he was working on before shutting the technology down and tucking in under his bed. His glasses come off and are set on his nightstand. You kick your slippers off as he does so, shrugging off your robe to drape it over the chair at the desk in the corner. 

When you turn back towards the bed, Jaehyun’s giving your short, silky pajama set a onceover, averting his gaze when he realizes you’ve noticed and flipping the corner of the comforter over as an invitation for you to make yourself comfortable. And you do just that. 

“Not judging,” Jaehyun disclaims. “But you’re genuinely afraid of storms?”

Pausing in the midst of snuggling under his covers, you check to see if he is judging or not. His expression is neutral, so you’ll take his word. 

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’, getting back to getting comfortable. “Just the loud ones like tonight.”

All Jaehyun does is nod in understanding. 

The two of you have had your fair share of silence while together, but up until right now, the silence has never been loud. He’s not acting standoffish or anything, but his lack of eye contact is something you’re not used to. And his body language is similar to when you’d first met.

You know you should say something because you know it’s about last night and you were the one who initiated the kiss, but now that you’re here, in his bed beside him, you kind of just want to pretend like it didn’t happen if he isn’t going to mention it himself. Is that the right thing to do? You doubt it. 

But is that exactly what you’re about to do? Absolutely. 

“When’s the last time you shared a bed with a woman?” you ask, turning towards his still seated up body with perfect posture. 

“Some months,” he confirms your suspicions. 

“Do you snore?”

He shakes his head. “I do not.”

Another bout of silence. 

“Are you uncomfortable with me in your bed?” you finally prompt. And when Jaehyun looks at you in confusion, you gesture at the clear difference in how the two of you are positioned. “Or are you just not ready to go to sleep yet?”

“No you’re fine,” Jaehyun reassures you, standing up in the process. “I just haven’t gotten ready for bed yet.”

You nod towards the bathroom. “I’ll be here.” 

A good ten minutes later Jaehyun’s back in his room, jeans and t-shirt gone and now shirtless with loose shorts on. You put your phone down on the nightstand and turn towards his side of the bed in time with him slipping under the covers. 

“Do you need me to keep the light on?”

You shake your head. “You can turn it off.”

Then it’s pitch black, not even the moonlight peeking through the blinds or curtains. And a loud crash of lightning sounds, making your body convulse. 

You laugh it off, though unable to see the worried expression you’re being given.

“How can I make this less scary for you?” Jaehyun prompts after a moment, voice low and hesitant. 

“How tired are you?”

“Barely.”

“Distractions always work,” you supply. Usually you’d put noise cancellation headphones in when you’re alone because this is kind of an embarrassing fear to have so no one really knows about it. Taeyong was aware when you were kids, but as far as you know, he thinks you’ve outgrown the fear. You used the storm as an excuse to come see Jaehyun and get rid of the air between the two of you but you’d only thought as far as just being in the same room as him. 

“Which kind?”

You shrug. “We can talk. Watch a movie or something. Being held always helps, too.”

“We can touch on what happened last night.”

You’re actually surprised he brought it up himself.

“What about last night, exactly?” 

Jaehyun lets out an unamused exhale through his nose. “Let’s not play dumb.”

The tone you just received is new and it admittedly does something to you. 

Here you are, comfortable in bed with the man of your desires, who’s only clad in shorts. There’s really nothing to talk about, in your opinion. You both wanted what happened last night and you want it again. Right now. 

You scoot closer to his warm body, your knees gently colliding with his thighs. Jaehyun stays still, even when you reach out, using the slight sight of his silhouette as a guide to run a hand down his shoulder to his defined chest, your fingertips brushing against his nipple. 

“I’m not,” you tell him, letting your hand continue down his torso. “A few things took place last night.”

“But you know–”

“I remember you calling me your baby,” you interrupt. Your digits stop when they get to the waistband of his bottoms. “Which I enjoyed. A lot.”

Jaehyun’s resolve starts to crumble. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to continue your recall of last night’s events along with your light touches, which are now going back up his stomach. 

“And then I gave you something to enjoy. Is that what you want to talk about?” You curl your hand around the side of his neck, playing with the hairs at his nape. Jaehyun relaxes more into your touch, but you receive no answer to your question. “We could pretend it never happened, if you want.”

“I don’t,” he finally says, and you assume he’s responding to the suggestion.

“Or it could happen again.” You finish the thought, moving your thumb to brush it against his pouty bottom lip. “But I don’t think there’s much more to talk about, Jae.”

A strong hand pulls you into his body by your back before lips crash into yours. You smile as you let him control the kiss, satisfied with breaking him enough for him to initiate it. Your fingers go back into Jaehyun’s hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp as you open your mouth for his searching tongue. His mouth nor his hold are rough, just firm, and you practically melt into him.

His kisses are noisy, the sound of his lips smacking against yours practically echoing in the spacious room. The rainfall is still heavy but the crashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder sound further away than before.

He lets out a stuttered breath at the tug of his scalp, nipping your bottom lip in retaliation as his hand leisurely slips down to the back of your knee to hike your leg up around his waist. 

You tilt your head up to catch your breath and Jaehyun uses the opportunity to use his nose to guide him down to your neck before pressing open mouthed kisses over a sensitive pulse point. And when you quietly moan, it only spurs him on to circle his tongue around it.

Whimpering out his name, you pull him flush against you by your leg and the hand in his hair. He continues to focus on that spot on your neck, nipping and sucking lightly but with enough bite to have your silk begin sticking to the apex of your thighs. And it’s almost like he can tell, with how his hand slides across the smooth fabric over your hips to rest on your ass, the tips of his fingers centimeters away from the mess he’s creating. 

Using his hair, you guide his lips back up to yours for a slower, wetter kiss that you lead this time. And Jaehyun just follows, letting you suck on his tongue as he gropes you, unintentionally rubbing over right where you want him and pulling a gasp out your mouth. You push back to feel more and this time it’s intentional on both of your parts, the tip of his finger shallowly dipping into your silk clad entrance. 

Your moan brings him back to reality, it seems, because soon his hand is slowly retracting, finding the side of your face to give you a couple more kisses that clearly signal the end of the moment. You want to pull him back in when his body starts to retract, want to settle on top of him and go further, but you don’t. 

You can’t.

There’s some rummaging and the light of the television screen ahead illuminates the room as you wrap your head around the moment that just passed.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Jaehyun asks in a rough voice that makes your stomach turn. His body turned so that he’s laying on his back, one arm behind his head while the other scrolls through streaming services.

“Uh.” You clear your throat. “Something funny, I guess.”

He chooses a romantic comedy from the early 2000s and pulls you back into him, wrapping an arm around you so you can rest your head on his chest. 

The storm has calmed down by now, but your mind is anything but calm.

Your eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a moment to realize your surroundings are different from what you’ve gotten used to this past week. And then you’re aware of a weight draped over your waist, and you remember the storm, the kiss, and the cuddling.

The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:40 a.m and from a glance behind you, Jaehyun is still asleep. You’re usually awake and downstairs an hour earlier than this, and he’s always drinking a cup of coffee when you make it to the kitchen. 

You do feel well rested.

It’s easy to slip out of his hold and get your day–your last full day here– started. You take a shower, throw on a matching short set and head downstairs, meeting Taeyong and Seulgi in the kitchen. 

“Sleep well?” Taeyong asks, handing you a mug. 

“I did.” You nod. You pour some coffee into the ceramic, followed by creamer and agave. “The storm put me to sleep.”

Your cousin eyes you for a moment and you sip from your mug, raising a brow. 

“You wanna join me on the beach today?” Seulgi prompts, cutting the silent communication off and turning your attention to her. “Let the guys bond while we have our own day?”

Jaehyun rounds the corner and enters the kitchen at that moment, brow raised at his cousin’s last words. Taeyong also hands him a mug, the mug Jaehyun’s used every morning, to which the brunet thanks him for. 

“Is that okay with you?” you ask, momentarily distracted by your sugar daddy sleepily rubbing his bare chest as he fills his cup with coffee. You figure she’d already run this plan by Taeyong. Jaehyun nods, sending you a gentle smile.

You return the nod and give your attention back to Seulgi. “Sounds perfect. What do you have planned?” 

The pair of you end up walking along the shore, picking up the prettiest seashells you can find. It’s nice to bond with her without anyone else around, though it was quiet at first.

“Has Jaehyun been treating you well?” she asks, catching you off guard. 

You’re not sure if she means during your stay here or in general, if Taeyong eventually let her know, so you just nod and answer as vaguely as possible. “He has. He’s very kind.”

“I was a bit nervous he’d be his usual uninterested self but I had hope he’d be a good host to you,” Seulgi admits with a relieved laugh. “He’s not the most social, though he does seem to talk to you pretty easily.”

“It’s my charm.” You flip your hair playfully. “Working with kids, you’ve got to be likable and easy to talk to. But yeah, he’s been great company.”

You bend down at the sight of a really pretty shell with pink on it, dusting it off to examine if it’s worth taking back with you before putting it in your little bag. 

“I know you mentioned not dating anyone, but are you interested? Like, are you going out on dates and stuff or just not feeling it at all right now?”

“I’m going on dates,” you tell her. You technically go on dates with Jaehyun, “but I’m not looking to be in a relationship just yet. If it happens organically I’m not opposed, but it’s not exactly high on my list at the moment.”

She hums in understanding and nods, then changes the subject to how she doesn’t know where her mental health would be without this beach house because it’s her happy place. 

--

Tonight is your last night of freedom. The only connection you’ve had to your work life for the last week is Jisung with his updates. He’s decided to send you daily pictures of your baby and they make you miss her a little more. 

The men took it upon themselves to make dinner and it was ready by the time you and Seulgi got back in, the sun almost completely set. You appreciate how almost every meal you’ve eaten since being here has been as a group at the table, barely any phone usage (Jaehyun stopped checking his notifications so often, deciding to wait until everyone was done in the kitchen–all it took was a stern look from you when he grabbed it as soon as it pinged one night), just conversation and laughter.

It’s planned for you all to come back during your next break from work, which will be during the summer, and it works out perfectly for everyone else. 

You don’t live close enough to a body of water you could submerge into, so on this last night, you’re taking advantage of the jacuzzi again. 

The couple went upstairs soon after dinner to watch a movie, taking popcorn with them and all. They invited you and Jaehyun, but you told them your plan for the night and Jaehyun just declined. 

He’s probably doing last minute work or just watching something on tv or his phone, but you’d prefer his company right now. So you grab your phone off of the side table and scroll to his message thread. 

[10:01pm] you: Come join me in the jacuzzi?

You wait for a response for a couple of minutes, but when you don’t get one, you just put your phone back with a small sigh. But then you get bored and pick your phone back up to scroll through your explore page. 

A few minutes into scrolling, the back door slides open and closed, and Jaehyun’s making his way towards you with swim trunks and a towel when you take a look behind you. 

“I thought you might not join me tonight,” you admit, putting your phone aside, for good this time. 

He shakes his head, dropping his towel and phone on the table before stepping inside the jacuzzi. 

“When have I ever not given you what you wanted?” 

At your silence, Jaehyun chuckles, settling down at a distance that isn’t far but far enough in your opinion. Especially after how close you two got last night. 

That’s actually your answer to his question that you guess was supposed to be rhetorical. 

“Last night.”

His brows furrow, genuinely confused. 

And it’s not like you asked him for what you wanted. You didn’t tell him you wanted to go further than the kisses you shared. Didn’t ask him to stick his hand in your shorts and relieve you of what you’ve been missing for what didn’t feel like a long time until you were that close to him. 

“You didn’t give me what I wanted last night,” you explain with a shrug. “But it’s nothing, really.”

Giving Jaehyun the time to make sense of your vague explanation, you extend your legs and flutter them in the water. You’re going to miss this place. You love your kids, but it’s so peaceful and lighthearted here. Well, for the most part. 

“I don’t want to assume you’re alluding to what I think you are, but–” His voice is deeper than you’ve heard yet, almost strained.

“I am,” you hum. You’ve been shown that he wants you in similar ways that you want him. Last night was too much yet not nearly enough. “I know what I want and I’m almost positive you want the same thing.”

“You also know we signed a contract.”

“We’re also two consenting adults,” you remind him.

“Who signed a contract that states there won’t be a sexual relationship between us,” Jaehyun retorts. It’s been a while since you’ve seen such a stern, serious facial expression on his face. “A kiss or two is one thing but–”

“Jaehyun–”

“While I don’t think you’d try to blackmail me or send me to court for anything,” he interrupts right back, and you sigh as you listen to the rest of his statement, “a breach in the contract would allow for that and I have too much to lose.”

You take a steadying breath, understanding where he’s coming from and not taking his words personally. Of course you wouldn’t do that to him, you hadn’t even thought of that scenario until he just brought it up. All you know is he is the first man in over a year to make you want to break your abstinence and if there is a way around this you’ll take it. 

“Answer this with a simple yes or no: is the feeling mutual?”

His pretty lips part to say something other than one of the two word options you gave him, getting him a pointed look. 

He scrubs his face and sighs. “Yes.”

You didn���t think it would stress him out this much. You didn’t forget about or ignore the agreement between the two of you. You just wanted to let him know you’re definitely down for a revision. 

“You can record me giving my consent, then we can make a new contract,” you suggest. He looks at you for a moment, like he’s processing. “If you want this to happen, get your phone. If you don’t, this conversation never happened.”

Jaehyun reaches behind him for his phone, taps the screen a few times before aiming the mic towards you. You state your first and last name, the date, and your consent while maintaining eye contact with him so he knows you do care about his career and reputation and your desires are sexual, even a little emotional. But not manipulative. 

He stops the recording then puts the device back where he got it from. His body language is less tense than before, the air lighter between the pair of you. Jaehyun’s worries are gone, and that’s all you wanted.

“Any more qualms, Mr. Jung?”

By the way he licks his lips, you’re going to assume he likes being addressed as such. 

“Just one,” Jaehyun begins, grabbing your calf to bring your foot to his lap, giving it the same treatment from the other night, digging his thumbs into the sole. You lift a brow, not actually expecting another issue. “Your abstinence.”

Bless him for caring about you and not just getting his dick wet. It only makes your desire for him grow.

His thumb presses into the arch of your foot and your back almost arches, a muted airy noise leaving your mouth. And by the glint in his eyes, he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I already told you,” you exhale, relaxing your head back even more. “I know what I want. I can break it whenever I’d like.”

“You think I’m worth it?”

You do. You really do. 

“I think you should show me that you are.” 

Smiling that stupidly attractive half smile of his, Jaehyun pushes into that pressure point again, loving the way you visibly hold back a sound of pleasure, before your leg is lifted higher and higher, until his lips make contact with your heel in a sweet kiss. 

“You think so?”

He just continues to kiss upward as you watch him in anticipation and desire. 

“I knew it.” Your voice is a lot more airy than accusatory than you’d intended, Jaehyun’s brow lifting in response since his mouth is occupied with shallowly sucking your big toe into his mouth. “Knew you had a thing for feet.”

Jaehyun laughs, watching you just as closely as you watch him. His tongue swirls around the tip and your teeth worry at your bottom lip. There’s already a dark look in his eyes.

“I don’t.” He sets your foot down gently and his arms fall to his sides after one last peck to your arch, body language open and inviting. “I just have a thing for you.”

“Smooth.”

“Honest,” Jaehyun counters. “Come here.”

You sit up carefully and make your way to his side of the tub. You settle on his lap, stomach twisting. Images of your first meeting with him flash through your mind, and you almost laugh at how much has changed between the two of you since that night.

A strong grip on your hips pulls you out of your thoughts when they pull you in, aligning your hips and settling your core right atop his semi. 

“Do you know how hard it was to pull away from you last night?” His deep voice is like velvet so close to your ears as he guides your hands up to rest on his shoulders. 

“It broke my heart when you did.” 

You wanted nothing more than his fingers knuckle deep in you when he brushed over your core, and now, with the position you’re in, you just want him inside of you. 

Apologetic hands caress your hips and waist, up and down. “I know, baby.” You lick your lips, eyes getting heavy at how easily the term of endearment rolls off his tongue and how nice it sounds to be on the receiving end. “I had to, though.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He nudges your nose with his own before he slants his lips over yours. There’s more passion, more desperation in this kiss now that there are no hindrances. His tongue laps against your bottom lip before it licks your own, pulling a low whine out of you as the wet muscles circle around each other slowly, filthily. His hands aren’t hesitant, simply caressing as they please.

“You want me to make it up to you?”

He’s already forgiven, but you nod anyway. “How will you?”

“I’m going to Bali in two weeks and I could fly you out to meet me,” Jaehyun suggests, peppering open mouthed kisses down your neck. “You can get massages, eat fresh fruit off of platters in the pool, do yoga with baby goats–” he lists and you hum at the plan and the delicate way his lips and tongue caress your skin. “And whatever else you want while I’m in meetings then we’ll go out once I’m done. I’ll show you my favorite spots and we can go anywhere you’re interested in.”

You wouldn’t mind missing a few days of work for that. 

“And what else?”

 An amused smile spreads against your skin before Jaehyun nips at your neck, laving his tongue over the bite. “I’ll add more money for the next few weeks.”

“What else?” you pant, gripping his locks. 

The knot keeping your bikini top together is slowly pulled apart until the man underneath you can peel it off of you and set it to the side, taking a quick moment to appreciate the sight of your breasts before he dips down to run his tongue over your nipple. The tip of his wet muscle circles the nub a few times, then it’s sucked into his mouth and your grip gets even tighter. The hand that isn’t pressing into the middle of your back to keep you close to his mouth comes up to the unoccupied side of your chest to squeeze and pull at.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, your hips slowly grind down against his hardening dick, trying to relieve the ache that’s only getting more intense the longer your breasts are fondled and sucked. You think you might actually come from this alone. 

Jaehyun switches sides of your chest, repeating the same attention and affection. His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers bringing increasing pleasure to your body. 

“Jae–” you whimper desperately, grinding harder, the water surrounding your bodies splashing more intensely. 

He hums, sliding his hand down your back and around to your hip, gripping the soft flesh to halt the movement of your lower half. He unlatches from your chest and lightly pushes you off of his lap and you blindly follow his lead as he guides you to turn and bend over the edge of the jacuzzi. 

It’s quiet for a while after you bend over, so you look behind you to catch Jaehyun admiring the shape of your ass and hips and how easily you get into position for him. His hands grasp both cheeks, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Glancing down his body, you see his dick straining against the front of his swim trunks.

“I can make it up to you right here,” Jaehyun offers, breaking the tunnel vision he had on your shape to catch your eye. “Or we can go upstairs.”

A bed would be more comfortable and convenient, so you give it a moment of thought while the man behind you continues to trace the curves of your body. All he has to do is untie your bikini bottoms or push them to the side right now. Walking upstairs seems like too long of a process.

“Here,” you decide. 

And that’s all you needed to say for him to pull the strings on both sides of your hips to unravel the bows you tied earlier. The soaked bottoms get discarder right along with your top. Two fingertips glide up and down your wet slit a couple of times before they draw slow, wide circles over your clit. 

“You wanted me so bad you couldn’t wait long enough to go back inside?” Jaehyun’s guttural voice asks close to your ear, his body towering over your own, his chest against your back. He hardly gives you a chance to respond before the same fingers plunge into your pussy.

“Shit,” you hiss, nodding at his question. “Wanted you so bad.”

Wet kisses trail down your spine as his hand picks up a steady pace. It feels so good to have his thicker, longer fingers deep inside of you when your own digits don’t fill you up as well or hit the same spots.

The coil in your stomach tightens embarrassingly fast and your moans get harder to suppress when his speed and force increase. Your head hangs forward, eyes closed as you focus on the feeling Jaehyun is bringing you with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. It’s unlikely the couple will hear you out here, or anyone since there is a lot of space in between the beach houses. You just don’t want to chance it. 

But when he carefully sinks a third finger into your cunt, it’s not as easy to control your volume.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, body going tense. 

“Too much?” Jaehyun asks, attentive yet still distracted by the way you suck his digits in. You shake your head. He starts back up slowly, giving you time to adjust and for the discomfort to pass before speeding up again when you moan in pleasure. “Need you to come around my fingers, okay baby?”

Jaehyun hums in content at how your lower half practically chases him when he barely pulls away. He reaches around with his other hand to find your clit, rubbing tight circles with a pressure that’s perfect, and he gets what he wants. 

Your breath stutters when you feel the wave of intense pleasure wash over you, and you reach your first climax in a low groan, the noise swallowed by the jets in the hottub and the squelching of Jaehyun’s digits as they move up and down since the vice grip your walls have on them leave little room for him to thrust them in and out of you at this point. Your legs shake and your fingers fail to grip the slippery edge of the jacuzzi. 

When you begin to come back down, sighs of content leaving your mouth, Jaehyun slowly retracts his hands and gives you a moment. There’s rustling behind you, and you sneak a glance back. 

He’s naked and spreading your essence up and down his shaft, his bottom lip hanging in pleasure. He’s long and thick, but not in an intimidating way. You make a move to turn around, wanting to replace his hand with your own and your mouth, but his free hand stops you. 

“I wanna suck your dick,” you tell him, yet still get back into position with your ass stuck out for him and your upper body supported by your forearms. 

“Think you can wait until I’m about to come?”  Jaehyun asks, rubbing his thumb over your entrance, catching the essence that drips from your fluttering hole. “Really wanna be inside you now.”

You nod again, fine with going with whatever he wants to do and how he wants to do it. You have no complaints about him being inside of you even sooner. 

He pushes in slowly, enjoying the gasp you let out as well as the view of him disappearing into you inch by inch. 

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you say weakly, licking your dry lips. 

Jaehyun grabs your hips, both to keep you in place and give him leverage, then begins slowly pulling out and thrusting back in until your walls have engulfed him fully. 

He lets out a deep exhale, head tipped back, and gives you a moment to adjust to him. The way he fills you up is unlike anything you’ve felt before and you don’t want to wait any longer. 

“Move.” You push back to emphasize that you’re ready. “Please.”

His movements are fluid yet careful, not too lost in his own pleasure with how snug and wet your walls are around him, but Jaehyun watches and listens so he can make sure you feel nothing but pleasure and enjoy every moment. 

Your head hangs low as you get accustomed to the delicious stretch, the friction. 

“Lift your knee up for me, baby,” Jaehyun gently commands, tapping the back of your thigh. 

You settle your knee beside your elbow, and that’s when he hits that spot within you that makes your arch back even more. 

“Oh. Fuck,” you cry, to which Jaehyun hums at. 

“Right there?” he asks, a groan threatening to slip out at how your walls flutter around his cock deliciously. 

You nod your head aggressively, squeezing your fists together since you’ve failed to grip the edge of the tub with your slippery hands. 

“Everything about you is just so pretty,” he compliments, sounding like he’s in awe as he gives you even slower, deeper strokes, keeping the angle that keeps you keening. “Pretty pussy,” A thick droplet of spit lands on your asshole then his thumb traces your rim a few times, catching your reaction before the tip breaches the surface. “Pretty body.”

“Oh—shit,” you moan brokenly. “Yes.”

“And you make such pretty sounds for me.”

His thumb pushes further into you and your face contorts in pleasure. 

“What the fuck, Jaehyun?” you whine, the pleasure almost becoming too much at this point. His thick, long dick hitting all the places you need, his thumb lazily wiggling inside of your ass, his velvety voice. You’re so close it almost hurts.

He just laughs under his breath, using his grip on your waist to pull you back, silently telling you to move. 

Your hips meet his strokes halfway, your eyes closed and practically rolled back as you match his rhythm to get you closer to coming around him then having him in your mouth.

“You feel so good, baby.” His compliments only urge you to fuck back harder, the drop of your hips creating a loud slapping noise that only turns you on even more. Jaehyun lets you take over for the most part, thrusts lacking the power behind them so he can focus on caressing your ass, hip, and waist with his head dropped back and eyes closed. “Just like that.”

You transfer most of your weight to one arm, starting with tight, quick circle against your clit. Your breath quickens and you bite your lip to stop the sounds that want to come out.

“Let me hear you.” Jaehyun says. “Need to hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your fingers work faster, to the point of just swiping the bundle of nerves back and forth and cries tumble from your lips, pleas and curses mixed in. 

“I’m gonna–” you begin to confess, but the pleasure heightens ten-fold and you let out a dry sob.

“Go ahead,” Jaehyun encourages, putting more effort into his thrusts again, moving his thumb in and out of you. 

You have to quickly catch yourself and hold your body up with both arms again when the feeling overcomes you. You’re doing your best to stay up when your body starts to vibrate, especially when your walls become more sensitive to his thrusts. Your walls spasm around his cock and there’s a harmony of voiced pleasure. 

Jaehyun pulls out when your hand starts pushing at his lower abdomen, starting to feel over stimulated. His hand slowly strokes his length to maintain his pleasure, watching you sink to your knees and he gives you the time you need to catch your breath and come back to the moment with him. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks in a gentle voice, helping you turn towards him with his free hand. He cups your chin, looking down at you with blown out eyes. You nod, head still fuzzy from your climax, wrapping your hands around the back of his thighs to pull him in closer, mouth cracking open to finally have him in your mouth. Jaehyun groans at the sight and taps the tip on your flattened tongue a couple times before you wrap your lips around him. He tastes like you and an underlying musk that makes you lave your tongue around the underside of his cock, caressing that vein that has him sighing. 

You wrap your hand around the base, moving his own hand out of the way, and start pumping your fist. Your attention is mostly at his tip, sucking and licking and moaning around him because you want him to come, too. 

Looking up at him, his lip is caught in between his teeth and he’s looking down at you with so much desire in his eyes. 

“Shit,” Jaehyun says to himself, breathlessly. You bob your head back and forth, sinking further and further down his shaft until his tip causes the back of your throat to flutter. “Just like that, baby. Fuck.”

His hips shallowly thrust forward, enjoying the feeling of your throat spasming around his cock too much to not chase it, and before you know it, both of his hands are gently holding your head in place and his grunts are turning into moans. He doesn’t fuck your face, though you absolutely wouldn’t have minded, but he picks up his pace. You massage the bottom of his shaft with your tongue and pull him in even closer by his thighs. 

“You want me to pull out?” he asks while he can still think straight. You shake your head no the best you can with him in your mouth, and that’s all he needs. His hips still, then ropes of cum land on the back of your tongue. 

Your hand comes back to milk the rest of his cum out, your mouth sucks until his shaft gets too sensitive and Jaehyun has to pull out. As he catches his breath, grip loosening to the point of his hands dropping, you swallow your mouthful and wipe the excess fluids off your mouth and chin. 

Jaehyun helps you back up to your feet and guides you to sit on the ledge, observing your fucked-out expression that mirrors his own. You look up at him with a content smile that lets him know he was definitely worth it. He gets your towel to wipe what your hands couldn’t get off of your face, smiling at the way you close your eyes and lift your chin up with a sigh. 

“Worth it?” he asks softly, now caressing your lips with his thumb. 

You hum, nodding. 

“Do you want to stay here a little longer or are you ready to go upstairs?” 

“I’m ready.” 

He passes you your towel and you thank him. You wrap the cotton around your body and he wraps his around his waist before you both grab your belongings and make your way back inside. 

“You can take your shower first,” Jaehyun says when you make it upstairs, about to pass your door. You nod, still not all the way in the present, twisting the doorknob. “And we can watch a movie in my room when we’re both clean.”

You smile up at him, nodding a little harder. He hesitates for a split second before he dips down to give you a lingering kiss, then he’s on his way to his room. 

After your long, hot shower, hygiene and skincare routine, you lightly knock on Jaehyun’s door before entering. He’s seated at his desk, scrolling on his phone until he looks up at you and stands, grabbing another towel. 

“Pick out a movie for us?” 

“Okay.”

The door shuts behind him and you make yourself at home and get comfortable on the same side of the bed you were on last night. You scroll through Netflix and Hulu only to end up having to choose between a psychological thriller you heard a lot of good reviews on and another romantic comedy. You’ll let him choose when he comes back because you don’t know which one is more his taste. 

He ends up choosing the psychological thriller because apparently he’s actually been meaning to watch it but just hadn’t found the time yet.

The rest of the night is spent watching the movie, trying to understand it and bounce ideas off of each other on the meaning of certain scenes, then when you can’t control your yawns and how heavy your lids are, you call it a night. Lights and the tv are turned off before Jaehyun pulls you in for chaste kiss that lingers, and you fall asleep with your head on his chest. 

For the second morning in a row, you wake up in the loose hold of Jaehyun. You know you slept in again, you don’t even have to look at the time. But you do anyway, because you and Taeyong are meant to be on the road no later than one this afternoon. 

It’s only a little past ten, and anything you don’t need to use today is already packed. You have a little more time to enjoy the moment. 

Jaehyun stirs awake behind you, asking you what time it is. He’s set to leave a little later than you, so when you tell him, he hums and pulls you into his chest more.

“They’re gonna wonder where we are,” you tell him, even though you really don’t care. The warmth of his chest on your back and being so close to the man you’ve desired for the last month is enough to keep you here a little longer.

“Seulgi’s been trying to set us up,” Jaehyun informs you huskily. “She’s fine.”

You blink. “She’s been what?” 

“Why do you think we’ve been left alone as much as we have?”

Now certain conversations make more sense. Her ploy may not have worked in the exact way she thought it would, but it definitely worked. And now that you think about it, Taeyong’s been giving you looks the last couple of days too, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he was in on it after a while. 

“Oh, she’s good.”

“Not really,” he laughs. “I saw right through her. I don’t know how you didn’t.”

“My attention was elsewhere.”

“You’re right.” He tightens his arm around you even more, now so close that you can feel a hardness poke the back of your thigh. “It was on seducing me.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes, though he’s technically correct.

“And it worked.” You wiggle back into his arousal, enjoying his hum of appreciation.

“Baby it worked before you even started trying.” He takes hold of your hip to pull your ass back again. “This trip just made it obvious you wanted me and gave me peace of mind to go through with it.”

You love how much more comfortable he is with his words and affection towards you. The pet names, the cuddling. The directness of his desires. 

“When’s our next date?” you ask, wondering how long it’ll be before you could possibly be in this position again. 

“Probably Saturday. I have a busy week ahead since someone wouldn’t let me work.”

You scoff. He had plenty of time the other day to get his work done. “Are you complaining?” 

Laughing, he presses a less than innocent kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Not at all.” 

“Taeyong’s gonna kill me if I’m late,” you sigh after a while of enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin, but your words don’t match your actions, your hand coming up to the back of his head to feel more of his opened mouth kisses. “I should probably start getting ready.”

“Probably,” Jaehyun agrees. But he continues his ministrations on your neck, slipping a hand under your shirt and up to your breast, groping the mound. “Is that what you want to do, though?”

“Not really,” you sigh, failing to stop yourself from arching into his touch. “But I’d hate to be inconsiderate.”

It pains you to slowly pull yourself out of his hold, but Taeyong is the last person you want to get chewed out and lectured by. With a small stretch, you get out of his bed and sneak a glance behind you to see him looking at you with desire and a cute pout. 

“Are you staying in bed or are you gonna get ready with me?” 

You still want to spend more time with him regardless of what the two of you are doing. 

He follows you into the bathroom and the two of you stand side by side, brushing your teeth in a comfortable silence. Jaehyun finishes his morning routine quicker than you, and takes the opportunity to stand behind you and fit his chin in the crook of your neck, arms sliding forward to encircle your waist. He simply watches you pat your face dry with a paper towel, sending you a closed-lip smile when you lift a curious brow at him. This extent of affection from him is new, and you’re not too sure how you expected your dynamic to change after crossing the line last night, but this wasn’t quite it. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

But when he straightens up some, his hard chest pressing against your back, you’re reminded of his morning wood, and everything makes a little more sense. 

“Did all of your self control die last night?” you joke, twisting the top of your serum off. 

He chuckles, and surprisingly nods. Burying his face into your neck now, he’s back to pressing tempting kisses on your skin, paying closer attention to the spot that made your breath audibly hitch. 

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No.” You shake your head. You sit the bottle in your hand back down on the countertop and lean back into his touch. You suddenly don’t have the mind to continue your skincare routine. “I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun lilts, though one of his hands creeps under your shirt. He pinches your nipple, eliciting a tiny moan from you. “Maybe I should stop. Wouldn’t want to be inconsiderate.”

You hum in discontent. “Please don’t.” Gently grabbing his hair, you pull him out of your neck so you can kiss him. Arousal stirs in your abdomen all over again and you want nothing more than for him to continue kissing you, touching you. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” He voices his surprise. It really didn’t take much. “Are you sure you want to keep him waiting?”

Even though you’ll most likely be seeing him again in less than a week, it’s just so tempting to stay in this bubble with Jaehyun a little longer. To get your fix of what you’d finally indulged in last night. And honestly, being a little late won’t hurt anyone. 

“We can make it quick?” you ask more than state, turning around in his hold to look up at him with inquisitive eyes. Taking steps forward, he follows your lead and walks backwards back into his room. 

“I can try,” he finally says after you’ve stripped your clothes off, eyeing your body. You move to his shorts next and he allows you to pull them down before taking over to kick them off his ankles. “Lay down for me.”

He crawls over you, knees in between your legs as he hovers over you, putting his weight on one forearm beside your head. The kiss you share is languid yet sloppy, your tongues colliding and twirling around one another’s as his free hand immediately finds its way in between your legs, his middle finger running down your slit before sliding inside of you. 

You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, chest already heaving up and down and it draws his attention, his mouth attaching to your nipple. Jaehyun sucks and nibbles on your nubs, inserting his ring finger in your pussy and pulling out a whine from your throat. His mouth continues to travel south until he reaches the apex of your thighs, taking a moment to watch the way your walls stretch around his fingers before sucking your clit into his mouth, giving it kitten licks. 

You know you asked him to make it quick, but when he starts to pull away too soon, you push his head back in between your thighs and start rolling your hips, mouth agape with the smallest of moans and praise spewing out as you try to keep your volume down. You’re already so close, and by the way your walls flutter around his digits, Jaehyun understands as much and licks and sucks at your clit with more intent, stretching you out even more with his pointer finger. 

Your orgasm is quiet, your fist blocking the sounds that threaten to come out of your mouth, lower body shaking. He lets you ride the feeling, lazily lapping at the wetness that gushes out past his fingers, circling the tip of his tongue against your clit before carefully pulling his digits out. 

Wiping your essence on the comforter, Jaehyun comes back up to eye level with you, grinning down at your dazed expression, pecking your lips. He lines his tip up with your hole and studies you as he breaches your entrance, drinking up the furrow in your brows and lewd grimace that washes over your face. The pace he sets once he’s bottomed out is so different from last night, his thrusts quicker, more shallow, but still reaching all the right places. 

You whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh, my God.” Breasts bouncing from the force of his hips clashing into yours, you just take the onslaught of pleasure. “Fuck, Jaehyun.”

“Love how you say my name, baby,” Jaehyun hums, dipping down to scatter kisses and nibbles on your jaw. His voice is too stable and he’s so composed you compared to you and you already feel your second orgasm approaching. You need him to come with you. 

Your leg is lifted to drape over his shoulder and your breath stops for a second.

“Daddy,” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back before you can see the way his eyes get darker and his control weakens. But you definitely feel how much harder he fucks you, how his movements lose a little finesse. “So good. Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come,” you ramble in his ear, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. 

“Yeah?” he grunts, out of breath now. Fingertips find your clit and rub quick, tight circles. “Gonna come all over my dick?”

You nod violently. “Yes. Yes yes yes,” you cry as quietly as possible, grabbing his hair to center you, trying not to pull too hard. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you chant as your walls flutter around his dick, body tensing before shuddering. 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans. He grips your hip tight enough to bruise, but the pain hardly registers when he kissing you hungrily and your walls start becoming progressively more sensitive to the way his thick cock drags against them. It only takes a few more intense thrusts for him to bottom out harshly and release inside of you with the deepest moan that you swallow, that makes you clench around him. 

Heavy breathing is all that’s heard for a while. He gradually softens inside of you as you catch your breath. Jaehyun’s head falls into your neck, his hand gently bringing your leg back down to the bed. 

“Quick enough?”

—

Seulgi has a wide smile taking up half of her face when she walks into the kitchen. 

“What?” Taeyong asks, suspicious. 

She points up and remains silent so he can hear the tell tale sound of skin slapping and muffled pleasure. “They’re definitely fucking.”

He immediately regrets asking.

:) v self indulgent. but look at me posting a little more consistently. i hope you all enjoy, feedback is always accepted and appreciated (you could always buy me kofi too uwu ily) <3

#jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #nct scenario #nct smut

[branded-rose]

“So I was like, ‘Yeah it was great, call you later!’ And I am TOTALLY not gonna call. She wanted to do the lamest positions EVER- What?” Adam tossed a grape into his mouth as he noticed his companion stop in what she was doing.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I saw your head shake! I saw your eyes roll.” He popped another grape in his mouth as Lute sighed and set the dishes back in the sink.

“Sir, there isn’t any point in bringing up something we’ve disagreed about at length before.” She turned back to the sink, turning on the water.

“AHA! I ******* knew it! This is because you think sex HAS to have a purpose. You can totally **** and it not mean anything. I do it all the time.” Adam finished off the last of his grapes before grabbing a wine bottle and digging around in the drawer for his corkscrew.

“Besides, you’re just saying that because you’re the most virgin angel in Heaven. You’d change your tune REAL quick Dangertits if you had experience~” The cork flew across the kitchen, narrowly missing his companion’s wing by a hair.

Lute pressed her lips together, puffing her cheeks as she tried to formulate a response. Thankfully she didn't need to.

“Uh-SIR! What are you doing??”

“Getting a drink, I’m thirsty. You want some?” He poured a glass, turning to see his lieutenant shooting him a look and motioning pointedly to the wine glass in the dish drainer.

“I just washed the glass from dinner.”

“Uh-huh. Looks great.”

Lute looked at him flatly before tossing a small hand towel at him, motioning towards the dishes that were in the process of drying.

“Then you shouldn’t mind helping me.” She turned back to the sink.

Adam regarded the towel flatly, sipping his wine before moving to lean on the counter next to her.

“Quit changing the subject. What’s stopping you anyway?”

“From what?”

“Sex. What’s stopping you? And don’t tell me you buy into all that lovey-dovey ‘I’m waiting for the right guy’ bull.”

Lute lifted a plate from the water and brought it close to her face, using her nail to try and dislodge whatever dried on food had stubbornly tried to reside on the ceramic. When she was satisfied, she returned it to the sink, sighing when she realized she had to actually consider Adam’s question.

“Sex won’t help me protect Heaven more.” Simple.

“But what if it did? What if your virginity was stopping you from being the baddest ***** this side of Heaven?”

Lute raised a brow, pausing in her work and resting her hand on her hip.

“I thought I already was?”

“Then what? You’re scared?”

Lute scoffed at the notion.

“I fear nothing.” She turned back to the sink, running the plate under the water to rinse it off. She then held the plate out for Adam to take, nodding towards the towel he had unceremoniously discarded on the countertop.

 “Then what the ***** is it? Cause I’m not buying it.” He took the plate, looking at it for half a second before setting it down next to the towel.

She sighed deeply as she returned her attention to the remaining dishes in the sink, her eye catching the one she had tried to hand him.

“The moment hasn’t ever come up.” She picked the plate off of the counter, once more holding it out for him to take. Which he did, only to put it right back down.

“That’s because you don’t KNOOOW what you’re missing. The moment could be right there and you’d have NO idea.” He snorted.

“Sir.” Lute picked up the plate, again.

“What?” He scooted towards her, returning the ceramic dish to the counter.

“Will you just dry the ****** plate?”

“Why? Frustrating you or something? Hmm?”

Lute closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she gripped the edge of the sink. After a long moment, she exhaled deeply through her nose, her face heating up as she felt his breath hot against her cheek.

“…Adam.”

“Lute.” The first man couldn’t help but smirk as he noted his lieutenant getting considerably more flustered. He could see the orange hue creep up into her cheeks.

He leaned in closer, his forehead just barely touching hers.

“This enough of a moment?”

Lute swallowed. “Sir, are you… coming onto me?”

“I dunno. You want me to be?” He reached over and grabbed his long since forgotten about wine, taking a sip as he put more space between them again.

The exorcist considered the question for a long moment before she reached over, taking the plate off of the counter a final time. She pushed it at him, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“I want you to dry the plate.”

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

I return from like a 800 year hiatus to post this monstrosity because... I am so intrigued by the concept of these horrible angels doing the most mundane of things.

Also there is just something a bit oxymoronic to me about a show about redemption having irredeemable characters such as these. That alone makes them interesting and I hope at the very least LUTE is explored more in season 2.

Adam & Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #guitarspear #adam x lute #my art #also also their dynamic is adorable. Codependent as all get out but adorable in a weird way???

[flor4de4amor]

𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!

you’re abby’s favorite bartender at her favorite dive bar. she doesn’t take to kindly to people disrespecting her best girl.

warnings: alcohol is mentioned + slight violence

click for palestine! read before engaging with my acc+work

Abby is a regular at your bar. Well, regular is a kind way to put it. At this point, she lives in the dive bar. She’s head over heels for you but has decided obnoxious flirting every happy hour, and a sliver of your attention will suffice. 

Her routine is simple:

Order a beer. From her favorite bartender of course. If anyone offers to serve her it’s deny, deny, deny. She can only accept alcoholic content from her best girl.

Shoot some darts, play some pool, chugging contest. Blah, blah, blah. It’s only fun if she sees you sneaking glances from your station, shooting you a wink while she engages with her team. She likes seeing how flustered she can get you with a thin-lipped smile and wink alone. And the answer is very flustered.

Once she’s seen you steal enough glances, it’s time to go back to the bar and bother you. Sure, order another drink. But, also, flirt with the gorgeous girl serving her. Is that a new shirt? Your hair looks so pretty tonight. She loves the necklace you’re wearing, situated real well between your tits. 

Then stay on the barstool, all night, up until she’s one of the last patrons in the bar. Even though,  she’s gotta be up running drills quite soon after your shift ends. But it’s worth it. If she can make you laugh at least once.

Every time. Without fail. That’s Abby’s routine, and tonight was no different. 

Well, except for the fact that there was some asshole bothering you while you worked. Doesn’t he know that’s her job? Only she can bother you, she’s the only one who does it right. Besides, you looked annoyed while he was talking to you. You never looked annoyed when Abby flirted. Always brushing your fingers on her bicep, giggling as she flexed, giving her a hard time for flinching after a shot. You relished in her attention even. You looked like you wanted to throw up while this guy was talking to you. Abby personally, wants to throw him a punch. Instead, she rolls her eyes and fiddles with the toothpick between her teeth, before calling you over to her. The night’s still early, maybe he’ll back off. She hasn't gotten her slice of your attention yet, so she refuses to let that be cut short. 

“Hey, princess!” She uses a hand motion towards you. Your face lights up as you walk towards her freckled face. You hadn't spoken many words to her all night. It was a relief to see the pilot in her designated stool. 

You throw your towel over your shoulder and place your hands on your hips. “How can I help you, Captain Anderson?” Your tongue pokes between your lips, a coy smile protruding.

Abby rolls her eyes. “I hate when you call me that.” She sighs playfully, “I only let my favorite bartenders call me Abby y’know.” 

You place your hand over your heart, flinching, “Silly me thinking I was the only one.” 

Abby whistles lowly at you. “None of them are half as pretty as you, baby.” She watches as you turn your head to the side shyly. She’s already got you flustered and the night’s just begun. She hasn’t even started throwing darts and flexing muscles with her squad yet.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now. “Promise?” you flirt shamelessly, curious as to what she’ll say.

“Scout’s honor princess,” she kisses three of her fingers and holds them up.

You laugh at her actions. Only Abby can have you laughing at work. In a sticky bar, tight shirt, and light hangover still cascading over you. “Okay, Abby,” You say her name sickeningly sweet. She almost bends over to her knees. “What can I get you tonight?” She smiles, tapping the paper coaster on the countertop, pretending to think. “I’m gonna go with the usual tonight babe.”

You smile, “Boring but expected.” You go to grab a glass and fill it up with ice as a deep baritone fills your ears. “Princess,” the man calls. This new customer was evidently, not privy to the unspoken rules of the bar. He winks at Abby expecting some comradery from a nickname alone. As if friendships are built off disrespecting women. 

You cringe at the nickname and don’t reply. Your legs only move to that call when it’s your favorite captain calling you.

“Oh c’mon don’t be that way.” The man continues. “What? You want a different nickname?” Abby’s jaw is clenched so tightly, that she's sure her molars have cracked. She’s clenching her fist to the point that the white of her knuckles is apparent. 

“She doesn’t respond to that,” Abby replies to the asshole. “She’s got a name.” This man is new sure, but definitely an idiot. He’s choosing to continue squaring off with the Abby Anderson. You know better. You wouldn't disrespect her even with all the alcohol in the world flooding your system. You’ve seen her in a bar fight. She’s never lost.  

“What is this your girlfriend?” He laughs drunkenly. “I mean I’m into that sort of thing,” he snorts to himself. “Why don’t you give us all a little kiss?” He continues chuckling like he’s some world-class comedian. Though, Abby doesn’t seem to find him funny. 

She runs her hand over her face. She looks at you for a moment. “Princess,” she leans in whispering, “How many bar fights in me until you said I was banned?”

You lean closer to her, whispering back, “I don’t think I’m allowed to ban the champ.” Smiling cheekily at her. She winks and clicks her tongue. That’s all she needs as reassurance to kick this guy’s ass.

She gets up from the stool, walking closer to him. Though Abby oozes dominance, when she’s standing over you it’s hard not to shit your pants. She places her hands square atop this guy’s shoulders. “I’m gonna give you just one chance to apologize to my pretty girl or else you’re gonna be banned.” 

The man brandishes off a drunk grin that’s missing two front teeth. “Ban? Me? Ban me? Nah.”

Abby rolls her eyes, “So that’s a no?” She doesn’t even give the guy a chance to answer before punching him straight in the jaw. “See someone else has had the common sense to knock two teeth from that ugly mug of yours, what’s a few more?” She mutters to herself.  There’s slight commotion, but it dies down quickly with the rest of Abby’s aviator squad coming quickly behind her. Beers still in hand, foam coating a few mustaches they ask her what happened. She wrings out her hand, “Go take his picture for the wall of shame and dump him outside.” She huffs, watching her lieutenants follow her orders.

Abby comes to sit by you in her same old worn-down barstool. She smiles as you give her a bag of ice for her hand. “What number fight is that?” You ask her softly and playfully.

“For you or in this bar?” She’s got that look in her eye, nothing but trouble.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t answer a question with a question.” You being to make the drink you never got to give the dirty blonde.

“You’re bossy tonight,” she muses, accepting the drink once you hand it to her, chugging quickly. “Fighting makes me thirsty she muses.”

You repress a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “So Captain,” you drag out the tightly slightly. Watching as Abby raises her eyebrow at you.

“Princess,” she replies with an edge to her voice. 

“When’re you gonna bite the bullet and ask me out? Hasn’t total endless flirting with me gotten boring?” You lean against the bar top, cleavage spilling from your low-cut top. 

“How about now?” Abby works hard to make sure her eyes don’t come to your spillage. She works overtime in doing so even. It’s torturous.

You hum, “Beating up drinkies doesn’t count as a date you know?” You smile at her, propping your face against your hand.

“Our first date wouldn’t be here,” she smiles toothily. “If that’s the case, we’ve had plenty of dates while I sat in this barstool. We’re married even.” She grins at you.

Your tongue licks your lips, “Moving fast, aren’t you? Focus on the first date, Anderson.”

“Yeah get used to saying that last name, ‘cause it’ll be yours,” she clicks her tongue and winks at you. “How about I come to grab you this weekend? A nice dinner, me you, and no drunks up your ass.” 

“Does this mean I’ll finally be seeing you out of that old navy uniform Anderson?” Your smile captivates your face as you tease her. Only you would make fun of her while she’s trying to ask you out.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t go home on the first date.” She teases, laughing softly, ‘cause it’s far from true.

“Liar,” you call her out on her shit, carefully grasping the glinting dog tags that lay around her neck. You pull her in for a kiss, for a moment there’s cheering. You know it’s from her rowdy lieutenants. You smile against her lips and pull away. “I’ll see you this weekend?” You say looking at her loved face.

“Sure thing princess.” She’s stunned. “You know what? Put a round on my tab, for celebration.” She reaffirms.

“No doubt captain,” you smile mocking a salute.

divider by @aqualogia

#written by lina ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #abby anderson drabble #natasha trace x reader #abby anderson x female reader #natasha trace x you #abby anderson fluff #abby x you #writing #writers on tumblr #tlou fanfiction #aviator!abby anderson x reader #aviator!abby anderson #aviator!abby #abby anderson x black!reader #black!reader #latina!reader #wlw fanfic #sapphic #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby angst #abby and ellie

[shootingmorningstar]

Hiii!!! Would it be ok to request hcs of Lucifer, Husk, Vox with an affectionate s/o please?

Absolutely it is .ᐟ.ᐟ When the gender of the reader isn't specified in a request I default to gn, but if that's not what you were looking for, let me know .ᐟ

LUCIFER, HUSK AND VOX

WITH AN AFFECTIONATE READER.

LUCIFER.

He adores it. Absolutely adores you and every single sweet thing you say to him, every touch you give him. However it may be you usually show you affections, put him on the receiving end and he is absolutely melting. He is so, so sweet to the people he loves. Seriously.

Reach out to take his hand while the two of you are out on a date .ᐣ He is swooning -- especially if you're so excited to be spending time with him you swing your hands together.

The first time you gave him a gift simply because it reminded you of him, he really and truly almost teared up. He is the King of Hell -- he could have anything and everything he ever wanted, but most days it feels like he has nothing.

Nothing that really matters, anyway. What's the point of all the power he wields if he can't use it to be happy .ᐣ Of course, Charlie makes him so, so happy, but even after the pair reconcile, Charlie is a grown woman. She has a happy relationship, wonderful friends and perhaps most of all, she has a cause.

She doesn't have all the time in the world to spend cheering up her lonely father. Living in the Hotel helps, but as soon as she leaves, he finds that empty feeling crawling right back up his spine.

That's exactly where you come in -- a rare blessing in his long, long life. His wonderful partner who came home with a gift wrapped especially for him .ᐣ

The gift has him weak in the knees. It doesn't even matter what's in the box, the fact that you love him enough to think of him even when he's not around means more than you could ever know.

All of your gestures are priceless to him. They're one of the things he loves about you the most.

He goes out of his way to return the thought and care every single time. Please let him spoil you. Let him feel like he's finally using all of that power and money for a good cause because to him .ᐣ There is no better cause. Your smile when he gives you an outfit you'd had your eye on and takes you out to your favorite place to eat is all the thanks he'd ever need.

Your affection has been one of the driving forces that gets him to realize the good in his people he'd been too ignorant to look for was right in front of him all along. If someone as wonderful as you can wind up in Hell, perhaps he's judged his realm too harshly.

You could never, ever be too affectionate to Lucifer and he wants you to know it. Be unapologetically yourself, that's when he loves you best. Never feel like you're smothering him with your love. Your kindness is putting the King back together piece by piece.

HUSK.

Similarly to Lucifer, Husk is a character that could really use your affection. He may not be quite as outwardly sappy about it as the King, but that doesn't make him any less appreciative.

Someone sweet and loving makes for a really good partner for Husk, actually, and on a deeper reason than just the timeless grumpy and sunshine dynamic duo. Someone like you would do good to help bring him out of his shell, bring a little light to his life.

Words of affirmation and acts of service hit him particularly hard. Hearing that he matters from his partner and that he's worth something even now would do wonders for his psyche, as would a simple meaningful gesture, even something as small as cleaning the glasses behind the bar for him. Anything to make his work load just a little bit easier.

Overhearing you tell another resident of the Hotel just how much you adore him may just stop him in his tracks. Not only are you incredibly affectionate to him, you're sharing your love for him with others .ᐣ You care about him that much .ᐣ He's whistling behind the bar counter for the rest of the day and nobody can figure out why Husk of all people is in such good spirits.

One of his favorite things about you is the way you comb through his fur. You're so gentle in the way you touch him for no other reason than not wanting to hurt somebody you love. You work through each snag caught on the brush slowly so as to not hurt him and he is so, so grateful.

Ask him to look up something for you and he's surprised to see his own face staring back at him as your lockscreen. Even moreso when he unlocks your phone and finds the homescreen a picture of the pair of you. Even when you're not meaning to, you're still finding a way to knock the air out of his lungs.

Right before leaving the Hotel for the day you like to stock him up with his favorite snacks behind the bar, something non alcoholic to drink and painkillers if he takes it a little too heavy on the booze.

Husk has a lot harder of a time being so outward with his affections and so replicating it is a little difficult for him, but he will never let you think he doesn't appreciate what you do for him. Just be patient with him.

He will, however, always let you know that your emotions are safe with him, that he will never judge you or your love languages and that the two of you have each other no matter what.

VOX.

To be completely honest .ᐣ I think Vox is a little baffled. How he found himself in a genuine relationship in the first place is still beyond him -- and with someone so loving, at that. Despite the image he tries to sell on social media & television, it's not too hard to figure out that he really isn't that good of a person.

You both are in Hell and most sinners fall for good reason, so despite the fact that making the assumption that a powerful sinner soul being corrupted is easy to make, the large majorities of Hell probably just doesn't have it in them to care.

You're different, though -- you're a shining example of the fact that not all sinners are innately evil, or just too far gone. From the moment Vox had met you, he had seen that you were good.

Why in Hell had you taken a liking to him .ᐣ He's not upset about it per se, just confused. Initially a little frustrated at best. Before you came along, he thought he'd be content, no, happy with the way his life was for eternity.

What didn't he have .ᐣ He had power, he had money, he had allies. What else could he possibly need .ᐣ Relationships were not for him. The strange fling he had going on with Valentino was romance aplenty for him.

That is, of course, until you came along. You had been interested in him from the very start, and you weren't afraid to show it. At first, he saw you as just another sinner to manipulate.

Apparently being kind and loving doesn't equate to a pushover . . . . .ᐣ News to him.

You asked him on a date and were nothing short of wonderful during it, listening to what he had to say with great interest -- but at the same time, you refused to let him speak over you or order you around.

His curiosity is what made him call you back for a second date. And a third, and a fourth.

He's absolutely loathe to admit it, but by the fifth date that excuse grows worn. He's not just curious about you, he's grown used to your presence. Even sort of misses you when you go. How annoying.

Maybe it's refreshing to have someone support him without secondhand motives, or maybe it's an error .ᐣ He usually can't stand being disrespected. Either way, he grows used to having you around, having your support and love.

He will NEVER bring you to the Vee's meetings. Not after he's come to consider you his. He doesn't want to risk Velvette's cocky attitude being contagious and he will absolutely never leave you around Val. He doesn't mind Val being .... the way he is, but to you.ᐣ Absofuckinglutely not.

Having a partner is seeming to do wonderful things for his image, and he comes to love you in his own very Vox-y way, so continue on with your doting and affections. Keep memorizing his favorite drinks and especially don't stop fixing his bowtie and kissing his cheek before he leaves for work.

Congratulations, you've fixed him . . . .ᐣ Kinda sorta .ᐣ Pet trained .ᐣ Who knows. But you're happy and he's happy, and that's all that matters.

I hope these were to your satisfaction .ᐟ I have a hard time imagining any sort of relationship with Vox as being overly healthy because we all saw the kind of person he is. With that in mind, I tried to do my best for a workaround to keep it in line with both the prompt and his character.

Let me know how I did .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated to write, as always ~ .ᐟ

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #husk x reader #husker x reader #husker #vox #vox x reader #hazbin vox #admin kitty

[fraugwinska]

Could you do a backstory to Hard Day? Like, how Al decided to give up control, and the first time it happened 🥺🙏

Ummm... well, I may have gotten myself a bit lost in this one :D Idk, It's gotten quite out of hand, 2,5 k words... but...um yeah :D Praying you like it :> Attention - we cook with Chili, not salt today! (MDNI)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The hardest Day

„That's so unrealistic! I mean, in what world would a lion eat bugs instead of the fucking fat juicy PIG?!“

„It's a kids movie, asshole, shut up!“

The gang was sprawled out in front of the TV, blankets and popcorn everywhere. Charlie got her hands on a rare copy of 'The Lion King', and invited everyone to a 'nice, unproblematic, quiet' movie night. She didn't account for Angel's constant commentary, Husk's annoyed retorts to him or Niffty's gleeful giggling at the most unfitting scenes. Vaggie, frustrated by them, started adding to the chaos, sending scolding remarks in intervals at either of them, while Charlie tried to mediate in between songs – which she always sang along with.

You, however, were highly entertained – even though you didn't catch anything from the movie, just watching them was amusing enough. The only one missing was Alastor, who had 'business to attend' and was gone since breakfast ended.

He would've hated it anyway, you knew he had no interest in movies, let alone modern ones, and group activities like these were often straining on his patience. Although getting in the hotel last, you were the one who grew the closest to him. Why? You couldn't say definitively. Maybe it was because you never took his veiled jabs by heart. Maybe because you didn't treat him the way the others wanted you to – with care, with ignorance, with suspicion; but instead with respect, an open mind and without judgment. Maybe it was because you could challenge him – discussions about books you both read could last hours, with points given to either side equally – no winner, no loser, both richer.

You liked Alastor. Really liked him. You also had a silly, little crush on him, for a while now, but you kept that to yourself, nothing going further than a few flirtatious moments 'in good fun', calling each other 'doe' and 'buck' with a laugh. A joke between friends. Friendship, you decided, was enough for you, if it was for him.

The entrance doors slammed suddenly, making you all jump in your seats. Alastor stood at the door, looking... different. Stressed? You cocked a brow when you saw his eye twitch, while he sauntered over to the group.

„Al, do you want to join us? We're watching a movie!“, Charlie said absent-mindedly, her eyes glued to the scene of 'Can you feel the love tonight'.

Alastor gave the TV set a judgmental smile and waved his hand. „Tempting, but it has been a rather hard day, I'll just take a drink and retreat to my room, dear.“ He left the group and went to the bar, your pair of eyes the only one following him. Something was NOT right. His smile was tight, his eyes wider than usual, his movements almost jagged instead of fluid. Niffty had jumped to the bar too, insisting on helping Alastor by retrieving a glass for his whiskey from one the higher shelves. In her eagerness to climb and get it, she didn't watch her steps careful enough, resulting in a few delicate wine glasses sliding from the shelfves and breaking into a hundred tiny pieces. Alastor's reaction was as unexpected as it was worrying – he always had a soft spot for Niffty, laughing over her antics and chaotic energy, often encouraging her even to produce more mayhem. This time, however, he started to scold the maid, who blinked at him with a big, guilty eye and trembling lips.

„Such indignation, really Niffty. Clean the shards at once, and try not to remain to be such a clumsy clot.“, he almost hissed, grabbing the bottle and a simple crystal glass before striding away hastily. Your eyes followed his figure until he turned the corner to the staircase, then you got up and comforted the little demon, helping her sweeping up the glass pieces while she sniffeled tears away.

You let your gaze swipe over the group, completely ignorant about what happened with Niffty, and Alastor. Ignorant of the blatantly obvious bad mood of the deer demon.

Turning to Charlie, you whispered to her that you had a headache and would be going to bed, to which she just nodded. No one acknowledged your leave, all eyes on the screen and still bickering noisily. A bunch of friends, you are, you thought annoyed with a shaking head.

Three flights of stairs later, you reached Alastor's room. You pressed your ear to the door, and heard dull bangs, like something was thrown, and a muffled voice. You knocked, and the room instantly stilled.

„Alastor, it's me.“, you said loudly, brows furrowed. „Are you okay?“

A few seconds of silence. „I'm just fine and dandy my dear.“

You put one hand on the door. He normally would open it, to speak with you directly, face uncomfortably close to face, just the way he liked it. But it stayed close.

„You didn't look fine.“, you stated. You were ever so stubborn.

„Well, I am fine. Now shoo, darling, good night.“

You stood in front of the wooden divider, contemplating. You could just go. Leave him be, wait until tomorrow. See if he would talk to you then. But then, there was your gut. And it told you Alastor wasn't well. And that just didn't sit right with you.

„Alastor. Please, let me in.“

No response, just hint of the prickling feeling of static electricity on your skin.

„I know something is bothering you, and I'm worried.“

No response. You breathe in and out.

„I'm not going anywhere until you open the...“

The door flew open, a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you into the room, violently. You stumbled and fell against a bookshelf, catching the fall with your hands to keep you upright. You heard a slam and a click – door closed, door locked. The static was everywhere now, flushing in waves over your body. You turned around -

Alastor was pacing like a wounded animal, he seemed fluffed up, as if every hair on his body had decided to stand up. His scleras were dark pits, blackest black, and in it his irises burned angrily in crimson flames, now focusing solely on you. The prey.

„So you came to test my patience too, dear?“, he snarled, his voice so distorted it ached in your ears. „It's not enough that that waste of cables destroyed two of my radio towers. Not enough that dozens of my most profitable souls have been rendered useless by an angelic bomb. Not enough that I not only had to put the disgraceful flat screened wretch back in his place, but also his vulgar boy toy and their brazen, attention-seeking brat.“

He grew in size as he ranted, you watched him reaching the ceiling, antlers scraping along the walls. „I manage my weakening territories, manage these imbeciles who think they can play overlords, I manage this sad excuse of a hotel, I manage the princess's unattainable ideas, and now, I also need to manage you, too, of all people? What a disappointm...“

„Stop.“

You held up a hand. Alastor growled, fluffing up even more, limbs cracking and static popping. „How dare y...“

„Stop.“, you said again. Your tone was calm, void of anger, or fear, neutral and steady. He stared at you, and you held his gaze. „Breathe, Alastor.“

You saw him fighting with himself. He fought against his instinct to oppose, to command, to put you into your place, to rip you apart. His elongated claws scraped over the floor, ripping deep ridges in the wood.

„Breathe.“, you repeated, firmer this time.

Slowly, gradually, Alastor shrunk. Breathed. Crumbled. Until he was back to his usual size and form, only with an exhausted expression.

You studied him – you've never seen him like that. He never allowed anyone to see him as something other than 'the radio demon': Powerful, unshakeable, quick on his feet and always one step ahead. How exhausting it must be. To always have the control also meant to always carry responsibility, to always fear impending failure.

Your heart whispered to you, and you followed it's advice. It could be the most stupid thing you could do, but you decided to do it anyway.

„Come here, Alastor.“

He looked at you, unsure, suspicious. You sounded commanding, but not harsh. Inviting. Like a hand, reached out to someone trapped. For a moment, you almost thought you ruined everything – his eyes left yours, they fell to the ground as he shifted on his feet.

But then – steps. Coming closer. Stopping right in front of you. And suddenly..

His head on your shoulder. His breath on your neck. His voice in your ear.

„Sometimes I'm so sick of it all. Sick of maneuvering, sick of ruling, governing, planning...“

You touched his neck, he let you, caressing the soft skin, heated from his outburst, trembling slightly at the contact. It was intimate, baring this vulnerable part to you. You heart broke for him.

He pulled himself away from you, searching for your eyes. Finding them again, he took your hand, bringing it up to his face, guiding your fingers over his lips. He just said one word.

„Please.“

So much was said with this please. You heard every message. Giving up control, just for a bit, just with something he didn't care enough about to insist on ruling, could be a small bit of freedom. Letting himself be guided instead of leading.

“Kneel down, Alastor.”

His ears pressed flat against his head, but he did as he was told. He couldn't look you in the eyes. For once, you were the one towering over him. You took his face in your hands, pulling it so he looked up to you, seeing your warm smile before your lips met his.

His breath hitched, stuck somewhere in his throat.

You slid one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the other caressing his cheek as you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Slowly, the rigidity melted away, he started to shift, lips no longer stiff but soft and molding against your own.

He tried to stand up, but you pushed him down, gently, definitively.

“Trust me to guide you, buck.”

He breathed, one, two, three times, eyes closed, grin tight.

“Yes, doe.”

Your own excitement took a back seat. You were filled with pure energy at the thought of crossing the line with him, having Alastor in a way you only dreamed about, convinced your relationship would never come this far. But. But this was not about you, for now. Maybe, another time. If another time ever came.

You lowered yourself on him, straddling him, so you were still 'taller', and rejoined your lips. You took his hands and set them on your hips, let them rest there while you buried yours in his hair, tugging lightly to bend his head back. His initial resistance lessened, and he gave in, exposing his throat, gray skin peeking out of his high collar. You let your mouth travel to his jawline, down to the small patch of delicate, thin skin, right next to his jugular. You felt him tense, felt his rising urge to protect himself from your potential strike. You let out a soft hum as you started to lick it, sucking gently, just a bit, just to make him shiver at the sensation. And how he did.

A moan, low and sweet like the strumming of a cello, escaped him, his hands crushing your hips by the force of his grip. It hurt, but you decided to ignore it. Little steps.

“Can you take more, good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, burning furiously. You met them with calmness, with a soft matter-of-fact-ness. Not smug, not mocking. A question. Proceed or Stop?

Alastor swallowed hot saliva. You could see he was getting overwhelmed, overstimulated, and yet, he had such a longing in his eyes, such desperation.

“Yes.”

One simple word. One spark, setting your body on fire. You tried to force your trembling fingers to steady, lifting yourself slightly off him to open his trousers. With every button, his breaths grew heavier, his grip on your legs grew tighter, claws already digging in your skin and drawing blood.

“Careful, buck. I'll need these in a moment.”, you said, placing both hands on his chest, pushing him flat on his back on the ground. He let you go, arms falling useless next to him.

You leaned forward, thanking any deity that would listen you decided to wear a skirt today, and placed a hand on his growing bulge. He hissed at the touch, cracking the floor as his fingers clawed into the wood of the floor instead your fleshy legs.

Freed from it's cage, Alastor's dick was already dripping with beads of precum, a sight to behold. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and bloodflow, it twitched in your hand. You stroke him, eliciting the most sinful noises from the demon under you.

You took a deep breath. One more, one question more, to make sure that he wanted it.

“Look at me, Alastor.”

He sat up on his elbows, looking more helpless than you've ever imagined he could. Even his smile wavered, threatening to break. You were looking for any signs of hesitation, disgust, resistance, regret. You only found desire. A want, a need, almost pleading eyes.

Your free hand pushed your panty away, enough to expose your lips, and you lowered yourself onto him, his length slowly entering you. He was big, you were tight. A bittersweet combination. Sparks flew before your eyes as he stretched you, but you were hypnotized by his eyes.

They were blown wide, returned to black, but the irises now flickering into dials, turning, left to right as he groaned. You moved, guiding your hips up and down, feeling yourself molding to his shape in the most delectable way, and getting drunk off the look on his face.

You increased the pace on which you pushed yourself on him, adding a little tilt of your hips to take him even deeper. His voice was reduced to a static-y mess, hums and groans and moans bleeding into each other. You placed both of your hands on his chest for more support, inevitably pinning him down. His hands flew to yours, threatening to push them off him, but instead, he entwined his fingers with yours, panting heavily.

It didn't take long for him to feel the pressure, unbearable and urgent, his release approaching at godspeed.

“Doe, I can't...”

Panic in his tone. He tried to put his hands on your waist to pull you off. You understood immediately – an upbringing in conservative times, decades of living by the rules of a gentleman, he was resisting against the thought of cumming inside you. You pushed his hands away.

“Yes, you can.”, you stated, smiling at him, a hint of wickedness in your eyes. “And you will.”

Your skilled movements and dedicated demeanor sent him over the edge immediately. Protests were futile as he came in you forcefully, you felt his cock pumping his seed deep into you, hot and thick as you rocked him through his orgasm. Your own high wasn't worth chasing, too far away to matter. You didn't even think about it – nothing could feel better than this.

Alastor ran his hands over his forehead, sweeping away beads of sweat as his breath calmed down.

His hand shot out to grab you, and, still impaled by him, he pulled you into his chest, invading your mouth with his tongue to kiss you possessively. As if to transfer the command, the control he had given up, back to him. Taking it from you.

For a moment you were scared. The positions had reset to their default. Would that mean he'd push you off? Say goodnight and never talk about this night again? Returning to the Status Quo. Friends, the end.

Alastor pulled your chin up to look at you. His thumb ran over your cheek, tenderly and full of care. His eyes answered every question in your mind. You weren't scared anymore.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie morningstar #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin smut