#and yes all of this was literally just one continuous conversation

[the-boy-meets-evil]

not according to plan | hjs

summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his. what could possibly go wrong?

pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.1k notes/warnings: johnny suh as the ex-fiancee (sorry, he's not great in this), other idols born in '95 used as background characters, mentions of past cheating, food & alcohol, lots of "dates", reader is referenced as coming from a rich family, mention of being an escort (minus the sex?) smut warnings: making out, multiple smut scenes (kind of, it could be a continuation), multiple orgasms, teasing, they're both v obsessed with each other's bodies, protected sex, fingering, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), scratching/marking, squirting, overstimulation, use of lube, i think that's it (but let me know if it's not)

author's note: this fic is dedicated to the lovely @shuadotcom, i'm so sorry it took me literal months to finish fake dating!joshua but here we are anyway. i'm not sure how this one got so away from me either lmao. banner credit to the beautiful @wongyuseokie who (again) did this very last minute. thank you to @wonwussy & @kwanisms for the mid-fic beta. thank you to @wooahaeproductions, @horanghater, @cheolism, & @hannieween for listening to me talk about this and helping with things like petnames & dates.

taglist at the end (& join my permanent taglist here)

“It’s fine, it’s been years and I’m over it. Plus, I’ve been seeing someone anyway and he’s great. So I wasn’t ignoring your invite,” you say without a second thought. 

It’s just a stream of consciousness. The lie comes flying out of your mouth faster than your brain can process it. That’s exactly what it is, too. A lie. You’re not seeing anyone and haven’t been in a serious relationship since the person on the other end of the call broke your heart. 

“Oh, wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to…well, I didn’t know. My mom didn’t say anything when she said she had spoken to your mom about whether or not you were coming to the wedding,” Johnny says with a little bit of ramble. 

“You know how my mom can be, I haven’t had the chance to tell her yet,” you deflect. 

“I’m happy for you, then,” Johnny says. 

“Thanks, I’m happy for you, too,” you force out. Somehow, it doesn’t sound like the lie you know that it is.

“So, it’s not weird, then? I mean our moms are best friends, so the rest of your family is all going to be there. A lot of your friends will be there. I know you haven’t RSVP’d yet, but…” Johnny starts.

“Nope! Not weird at all,” you utter, hoping that your voice sounds even. “It’d be weirder if I wasn’t there, right?” 

“Probably, yeah,” Johnny says. “That’s great, though. Do you want me to mark you down as a yes? I can even add a plus-one, if you want to bring your partner.” 

“That’s so thoughtful, but I wouldn’t want to put you out. I know how expensive weddings can be,” you say and try to sound sincere.

“No, it’s no issue, actually. We have a few extra seats that we left just in case we forgot someone or didn’t know about someone’s partner,” Johnny presses. “So we’ll see you both there?”

“Yeah, you will,” you hurry out. This conversation needs to be over. 

It’s only an hour after hanging up with your ex-fiancee that your mom calls to tell you she can’t believe she had to hear it from Mrs. Suh that you’re dating someone. Which includes a whole lot of deflecting and promises about when she can meet this mystery man. Another twenty minutes after you hang up with your mom, you get a pointed text from your younger sister. The two of you haven’t ever been all that close, so she shouldn’t be surprised that you haven’t mentioned him. She made her side pretty clear when she maintained her friendship with Johnny’s new fiancée. That new fiancee, a close friend of your sisters, also just so happened to be the girl he cheated on you with. So, she can hardly expect to have a close sister bond. Yet, she seems oddly suspicious that she didn’t know you were seeing someone seriously. 

Your quiet Saturday afternoon turns into a full blown headache all thanks to one call from the asshole that you really thought you left in the past. Of course, now is the perfect time for him to pop back up. Now, when you’re even between any sort of casual sex. Now, when you don’t even have someone that you can call up to pretend to date you. This is going to be one of the worst calls that you have to make when you have to admit you made it all up, that you will absolutely not be showing your face at the wedding, and you will also be changing your name before moving away.

For now, you do the only thing that you can think of doing. You call the only person that can give you any perspective on this whole fucking disaster. 

“Well hello,” your best friend answers. 

“Jeonghan, I fucked up,” you say without preamble. 

“This is gonna be good,” he responds. 

“I just got off the phone with my mom,” you begin.

“What did she want?” he asks, knowing that it won’t be anything good.

“Well, you know, to talk about this new boyfriend of mine,” you continue.

“You haven’t dated anyone in forever,” Jeonghan chuckles. 

“Thank you for that,” you snark. “And then, of course, I get a text from my perfect sister wondering why she’s also just hearing about this boyfriend of mine.” 

“Why do your sister and your mom think you’re dating someone?” Jeonghan asks.

“Oh, well, you know. Johnny called today,” you offer.

“Fuck that guy,” Jeonghan interjects.

“He wanted to know why I hadn’t responded to his wedding invite and assumed it was awkward because I was single, so I told him I was seeing someone,” you finally finish.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jeonghan says into the silence and you can imagine his face.

“Right? My life is a fucking mess and now Johnny thinks that I’m bringing my boyfriend,” you groan.

“I’ll start planning the story for why you suddenly left town,” Jeonghan says. 

“For real, my life is over,” you whine.

“What are you gonna do?” Jeonghan asks softly. 

This is really why you called him. Jeonghan is a shithead, sometimes, and he can be a bit of a chaos demon. He also can be a bit of a schemer, especially when it comes to winning a game. But, he’s unfailingly kind and caring to the people he holds dear. He absolutely hates getting into any kind of real conflict with his friends. There’s that whole side to him that honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly and always has a way to comfort. That’s the side that you get now. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, voice just as quiet. “I’m just…I don’t want to let him win, you know?”

And Jeonghan does know. You’ve been friends since before you started dating Johnny. Even though he never liked him, Jeonghan supported you in your relationship. When Johnny proposed, he called your other friends and set up the best engagement party anyone could ask for. From the outside, nobody would ever know that he hated your partner. Honestly, he’s the best friend anyone in the world could ask for. 

Before he got around to setting up the bridal shower, which he’d been quietly planning for months, your whole world turned upside down. Johnny cheated, had been cheating awhile, actually, and Jeonghan was there to pick up the pieces. Somehow, he was the only one that seemed to make it better, probably because he didn’t want to act like things were okay when they weren’t. It was easy to cry in front of him, easy to be vulnerable, easy to just let the process play out so you could heal. Even though he never liked Johnny, he also didn’t say he told you so. This had never been something that crossed his mind. 

“Okay, you’re gonna hate it, but I have an idea,” Jeonghan says.

“Those are never comforting words coming from you,” slips out of your mouth.

“Usually I’d yell at you, but…” he trails off. 

“I swear, if you’re about to say that we pretend to be dating like some romcom, I will hang up the phone,” you warn.

“First of all, that’s rude, I’m a great boyfriend,” Jeonghan says. 

“I never said you weren’t, Hannie, you know I think you’re gorgeous,” you sigh. 

“That’s true, I am,” Jeonghan says through a laugh.

“But, I also know you remember what an unmitigated disaster it was when we fucked,” you point out, earning an even louder laugh. 

“Wow, and here I thought that it was actually great sex,” he says. 

“I’m not gonna keep stroking your ego, I already admitted you were gorgeous. I don’t need to praise the sex, too,” you declare.

“Stroking my…come on, you’re making it too easy,” Jeonghan points out.

“Funny, because I remember you being the easy one that night,” you say, finally managing to get a shot in.

“I hate you,” Jeonghan snorts. 

“I know,” you answer. “Didn’t you say that you had an idea?” 

Jeonghan clears his throat. “Right, yeah. Well, I know this guy and maybe he can help you out.” 

“What is he, an escort?” you snort out.

“Do you want my help or not?” Jeonghan asks.

“Yoon Jeonghan, are you about to set me up with an escort?” you challenge.

“No, of course not, just trust me,” he says.

Just trust me might be the three most terrifying words that could come out of Jeonghan’s mouth, especially when you’re not usually on the receiving end of his schemes. It’s not like you have much choice, though. The wedding is in six weeks and you have to find a solution, fast. So, what choice do you have other than trusting your best friend? How could this go wrong? 

You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into. 

Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though. 

Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.

It works.

When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks. 

His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you. 

In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated. 

“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you. 

“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.

“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks. 

“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out. 

Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?” 

“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?” 

A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information. 

In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)

Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.

To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting. 

“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.

“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.

“I…what?” you sputter out. 

“Well, sure, we need to work out a few details, but I’m game,” Joshua says with a shrug.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just really confused?” You don’t even have food yet and this is already the most interesting date you’ve been on, possibly ever. 

“I, uh, may have left a part of my past out when I was sharing what Jeonghan knew about me,” Joshua says. “And honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t catch it or that he did this. I’d be mad if I wasn’t so impressed by how crafty it was.” 

“I’m going to need you to connect some dots for me,” you admit. “Oh and also never tell Jeonghan you appreciate him being crafty. His ego is too big as it is.”

“The first time Jeonghan and I hung out, we went out for drinks, got a little wasted, and I told him about how I got through my university studies without any debts,” Joshua says, pausing long enough for someone to set the appetizer down. “He’s observant, Jeonghan, I’ll give him that. He noticed I had designer clothes, shoes, that kind of thing. And he noticed I didn’t pay attention to the prices of the drinks. So I made a vague comment about being lucky to have found a way through my studies without taking out loans.”

“I’m sure he asked you about that, he loves it when he thinks there’s a scheme,” you note with a smile.

“You’re right about that,” Joshua agrees. “So I, well I told him. When I was in school, I met this woman out one night and she paid me to go to events with her. She wanted, and these were her words, ‘someone young and hot’ with her. And the next four years, that’s what I did. I let people pay for me to go to events with them. Never more than that. I was clear that I wasn’t selling sex or anything, just company.” 

You lean back in your seat with an appraising look. “An entrepreneur from the beginning.” 

“Hey, no judgment,” Joshua says. All you can do is smile.

“I’m not judging, that was really smart and you’re obviously attractive enough for it,” you acknowledge.

“Thank you,” Joshua says. It doesn’t have the air of cockiness Jeonghan’s answer would. He actually seems sincere in accepting the compliment. 

“But, I’m still not going to pay you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” you say, even if it’s a bit reluctant. 

“I wasn’t asking you to,” Joshua shrugs. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Why would you offer to pretend to do something like this? You don’t even know me,” you point out.

“No, I don’t. But, you seem like a good person. And I like Jeonghan, he’s nice…” Joshua says, stopping when you try to cover a scoff. 

“Nice?” you question when you’re caught.

“Wrong word choice,” Joshua dismisses. “He seems like the kind of person that’s a loyal friend, like he would go into battle to protect you. Like someone you can actually trust.”

“He is all of those things, yeah,” you admit.

“And if those things are true, then him holding you out as his best friend means you’re probably all of those things too,” Joshua reasons. 

“I try to be,” you agree. 

“Plus, Jeonghan did mention you had seriously dated someone that was pretty rich, so I figure it’s probably the guy getting married and it’ll be a nice wedding,” Joshua says with a smile. The joke is obvious by the look in his eyes.

“It’s interesting that he mentioned Johnny, that’s my ex, being rich,” you idly comment.

“Is he not?” Joshua wonders.

“Jeonghan is a lot of things, but he’d never lie to his friends,” you answer first. “So, yeah, he is. Well, his family is at least. His mom and mine run a lot of events together, like galas and shit. That’s how we all know each other.”

“Are you rich, too?” Joshua wonders. There’s that little twinkle of something in his eyes again, but there’s also sincerity.

“I’m still not paying you,” you retort.

“Fine,” Joshua agrees. 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, so what’s the plan?” 

There’s a weird world’s colliding feeling to having both Jeonghan and Joshua in your apartment. But, Jeonghan doesn’t like to be left out of things. Once you told him that you and Joshua both knew about his scheming, he offered to help in any way he could. Which is likely just so he’s included. You’ll take what you can get. Now, it means that he and Joshua are sitting on your couch, scrolling through pictures on Joshua’s phone to decide what to include in an instagram post. That’s the first step you and Joshua agreed on. If you’re going to sell this whole fake relationship, then your sister actually is right. There has to be some sort of proof of it online. Which also means that your post has to talk about how you’ve been keeping it quiet and just enjoying getting to know each other without any pressure. Jeonghan takes credit for that, even if you got there on your own. 

“I think I like this one,” Jeonghan says and turns the phone around to show you. 

“Why that one?” you ask. 

“Why not? Don’t you like it?” Joshua worries.

“I don’t know, I feel like my hand is doing something weird,” you point out.

“You look great,” Joshua assures you.

“Oh, ew, you’re not really dating,” Jeonghan complains. 

“You do know you’re going to have to stop saying that, right?” you ask.

“Maybe I didn’t know either,” Jeonghan shrugs.

“No, I’m with her, you’re her best friend and you definitely would’ve known,” Joshua agrees. 

“Why are you on her side already?” Jeonghan whines.

“Because she’s cool and she’s not the one who knew what I did in college and set me up,” Joshua says with a laugh. 

This is how it’s been going for the last hour. You’re not really much for putting a lot of effort into your posts, so this all feels like too much. But, you know that it’s important for it to feel real and it’s important to get it right. You’re honestly pretty happy to just let the guys take the lead and go with the flow of it all. There are going to be plenty of opportunities for you to take the lead. You’re going to take your breaks where you can. 

(That had also meant not putting up too much of a fight when Jeonghan told you to bring multiple outfits with you. Or when you had to change your hairstyle and makeup between the photos so it looked like they hadn’t all been taken the same day. Honestly, this was so much easier for Joshua. Then again, he’s the one doing you a favor. So maybe you can let him have it.)

After you finally get your couple pictures posted, and get a flurry of messages ranging from surprise to congratulations, you move onto preparing Joshua to meet your parents, your sister, and her husband. Jeonghan is actually a lot of help with that because he’s been around them a lot. Well, he’s helpful after he tries to scare Joshua about how intimidating it’s going to be only to give up when Joshua is unbothered. He’s so calm about everything that it’s actually kind of nice to be around. And he has no problem firing back at Jeonghan, which is really fun to watch. 

You go through what your parents are like, what they do both for work and as hobbies. Joshua perks up at the mention of your dad loving music and sometimes spending his weekends just exploring new venues. It seems like there might be more to that, though you don’t press when he waves it off. It’s different when you talk about your sister, two years younger and already married. Not that you’re dying to be married or even care that she got married before you. That’s always seemed like a weird societal expectation, anyway. What does it matter when anyone gets married? If it’s their right person, then it makes sense. You being upset over your failed engagement really doesn’t have anything to do with your sister’s marriage, despite her instance it does. 

It becomes obvious that you’re losing Jeonghan’s attention when you turn down his request to start playing games or watch a movie. It’s not that you don’t want to do those things, it’s just that you have a lot to cover in far less time than you realized. Sure, the wedding is still weeks away. What’s not weeks away is your first dinner with your family. That’s going to be around the corner. The least you could do, you figured, was plan a time before posting pictures on instagram. So, Jeonghan asks if it’s okay to leave and you almost sigh in relief. This will be easier without an extra person.

“Not to pry, but what’s the deal with you and Jeonghan?” Joshua asks when you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. 

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I feel like I was picking up on something,” Joshua shrugs.

“We’re really just friends,” you assure him.

“Sometimes those are the best…” Joshua starts.

“Don’t,” you cut off. He worries for a second before he realizes you’re smiling. “We did try. Not so much a try, I guess, but we slept together maybe 6 months after Johnny and I broke it off and it just wasn’t it.” 

“You and him slept together?” Joshua questions.

“Is that weird for you?” you ask.

“No, it’s just interesting that you’re still so close,” Joshua observes.

“I guess,” you say with a shrug. “He’s great, obviously attractive, but we just, I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything. Neither did he. So, staying friends seemed like the right choice.”

“Interesting,” is all Joshua says. “Have you dated anyone seriously since Johnny?” 

“Not that seriously, no,” you admit. “I’ve gone on dates with different people and some of them stuck around for a bit, but nothing serious.” 

“Not finding the right people?” Joshua presses.

“I just haven’t found anyone that made me feel like Johnny did at the beginning or even like I did when he proposed,” you say. 

“I can understand that, even if I don’t really get it. You’re gorgeous, anyone would be lucky,” he says smoothly. You cover a blush with a slight eye roll. 

“I guess that’s why most of my close friends will also believe that I kept a new relationship on the low. They saw me post-Johnny and have seen me try to date,” you share.

“Yeah that’s good for us, at least,” Joshua agrees.

“What about you, though? When was your last relationship?” you ask.

“Ah, well it’s been a little over a year,” Joshua says. 

“Bad ending?” you wonder. You’re not sure why you press him on it.

“It wasn’t great,” Joshua says with a chuckle. “She, uh, well she decided that she just really would rather be with one of my friends than with me.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” you say, suddenly sorry.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says. “She didn’t actually cheat on me, but she had started getting close to him and sharing everything with him.”

“Arguably worse, in my opinion. Emotional cheating is still a thing,” you say, trying to offer comfort. 

“Thank you,” Joshua says. His eyes are soft and full of care. “And, like you, I have dated since then, just nothing worth talking about.” 

It’s an easy transition from that into talking about your backgrounds. Like speed dating, except somehow more intense. You learn Joshua’s birthday, his parents names, that he’s an only child, and where he grew up. Nothing is too small and you joke about taking notes before you actually go to get a notebook. Joshua tells you his favorite color and his favorite food, tells you about his favorite memories, favorite places where he grew up, and favorite places he’s found since moving here. There’s a way that his face lights up when he talks about his friends that’s drawing you in. You tell him the same. That all feels a little surface level, which you point out. If this is going to work, it has to be deeper, more serious. 

That’s when something seems to almost break down. Joshua suggests that you tell each other the deep stuff, the things that you don’t always admit to someone you’re dating. Or, maybe you admit it and don’t get into the reasons why. When Joshua goes first and admits that he’s happiest when he’s playing his guitar, even if nobody else is listening, his whole face changes. It’s like a completely different version of him. He’s got an open face as it is, that hasn’t changed, but you realize maybe he’s a little guarded behind the smile as well. Maybe there really is more depth than he wants anyone to realize. Maybe this is going to be more interesting than you thought.

“Can I hear you play?” you ask. His face is adorable with his eyes full of surprise.

“You want to hear me play?” There’s an emotion you can’t place when he looks at you.

“I love music, too, Joshua,” you say softly. “I’d love to see what you’re passionate about.”

“Oh, well, I usually play at this acoustic night on Thursdays at a coffee shop downtown,” Joshua tells you.

“You do? That’s so cute!” you say before second guessing it. He looks away like he’s a little embarrassed and you worry for a split second.

“I’d love it if you came by,” he says.

“It’s a shame that we can’t say that’s where we met,” you admit.

“Wait, that would be a good idea, actually,” Joshua says and you smile. 

“It would be, but I also know events like that. It’s always a similar crowd so I’m sure someone will know that I’ve never been,” you reason. 

“Fair point,” Joshua concedes. 

“Why don’t we just say we met on a dating app?” you suggest and Joshua pulls up his face. “Okay, I know apps are lame and honestly, I don’t use them much. But, think about it. That’s the perfect reason why we didn’t bring it up until now, we didn’t want to answer the ‘where did you meet’ question by saying an app.” 

“Okay, yeah, I do actually like that because it’s easy and it doesn’t feel like a wild story,” Joshua says. 

“What about your parents?” you ask. “Do we need to make plans to meet them if you’re also posting about me?” 

“We can figure that out, but they live pretty far away so it would probably just be over FaceTime or something,” he says.

“I also understand if you don’t want to do that because we’re just pretending,” you suggest. 

“No, it’d be cool to have you meet them. Even if the relationship isn’t real, I’d like to be friends for real, so that’s not a total lie,” Joshua reasons. 

“I’d like to be friends too,” you agree. “How long have you been living here, now?” 

“Oh, um, like 8 months?” Joshua says like a question.

“I was figuring like a month or two with the way Jeonghan talks about you,” you laugh. 

“You’ve been friends with him for years, you’re not actually surprised,” Joshua points out. 

“Okay so now I guess we have to figure out when we started dating,” you comment.

“And everything else, but we can do it,” Joshua says. 

You’re a little nervous sitting on your couch waiting for Joshua to show up. Even though you offered to pick him up for dinner with your family tonight, he insisted on being the one to drive. Of course he’s right on time, which you’re already realizing is a trait of his. He’s even a gentleman when he opens the door for you, just like he pulled the chair out the first time you met for the date-not-date. As you put your seatbelt on, you notice that there are a few things in the backseat. 

“What’s all that?” you ask as he slides into the driver’s seat. 

“Flowers for your mom, a bottle of scotch for your dad, and a cheese board for your sister because you said they just moved and she likes to host,” Joshua lists off as if it’s nothing.

“You did not have to get things for all of them,” you point out. 

“Of course I did, but I also wanted to. I’m trying to make a good impression,” he says, making your heart a little light.

“That’s so kind,” you whisper out.

“Oh, I thought of something else,” Joshua shifts. You’re worried you made him uncomfortable until he speaks again. “Are you a pet name person in relationships?”

That makes you snort, something that would embarrass you in any other situation. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, though. “That depends on what you want to call me.”

“That’s a dangerous way to say that,” Joshua answers. His eyes are still on the road, yet you don’t miss the way he reacts.

“I don’t like overly cutesy names,” you say to diffuse a little bit of the moment. “Like, I don’t know, if you want to call me sugarplum or honeybunch or something like that, please don’t.”

“You’re just giving me ideas to take away my fun,” he pouts.

“Well, what were you thinking of calling me? Or are you even a pet name person?” you ask.

“I do like them,” Joshua says. “I’m not sure that I have a go-to or anything. For you, I might say angel or possibly darling.”

“I think I prefer angel, if I’m allowed to pick,” you say after a moment.

“Of course,” Joshua replies. Studying his face, you’re looking for a hint of mocking or insincerity, but there’s nothing to find. This is just him.

“Do you want me to use a pet name for you?” you wonder.

“I’d happily take one, no pressure, though,” he says. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” you tell him. “Something generic like babe doesn’t feel right.”

“Are you saying I’m special?” Now you can hear the light teasing in his voice. 

“I take it back, any more compliments are going to go to your head,” you huff out. 

As you get closer to your parents’ house, you start to bounce your knee with an excess of nervous energy. It’s not until Joshua reaches a hand out to take one of yours that you’re even sure you’re doing it. There’s something calming about it, though. Nothing about him reaching out feels like he’s trying to stop you, just show that you’re not alone in this. Which is more than welcome. The last person you brought to meet your parents was Johnny. Given how that ended and why Joshua is around in the first place, it’s not exactly the most comforting thought.

Once you pull up to their house, you take a deep breath. It’s only to settle your rising nerves, but it also serves to give Joshua enough time to come and open your door. Even though you’ve told him that he doesn’t need to be this sweet, he insists. Without saying a word, he holds out a hand to help you out of the car. Instead of dropping your hand once you’re out, he uses it to pull you into him and wraps his arms around you. There’s this immediate sense of comfort, like you have actually been dating for months. You inhale his cologne without meaning to, something warm and woodsy. 

“It’s going to be fine, parents love me,” he assures you when you pull away.

“I don’t doubt that,” you say, releasing the breath you were holding and your tension with it. 

“So come on, my little granola wrapper, let’s go,” Joshua says as he lets you go to get the gifts out of his backseat. 

It takes you a full few seconds to register what came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?” 

“Is that not the one?” he asks, eyes alight with some kind of mischief. 

“I’m not going to encourage this,” you huff.

“Whatever you say, jellybean,” he throws out casually. 

The second you step into the house, you see exactly what Joshua means. Your mother is fawning over him in a matter of seconds, your father is making plans to show him his records, your sister’s husband is asking when they can go out for drinks, and your sister even holds back the snark. All during the course of the pre-dinner drinks and largely, you think, due to the gifts that Joshua brought. He had a reason for the meaning behind the type of flowers for your mother, a favorite musician who swore by the scotch for your dad, and even bought the cheese board from a small business that customized things. 

Dinner comes along and you still feel like you’ve barely said anything with Joshua masterfully steering the conversation. He even makes it sound good that you met on an app, with his improvised story of wanting to meet people in a new city. According to him, he wasn’t expecting to meet someone like you and was done for the second he saw you sitting at dinner. It’s something real, that you met him for dinner the first time at a fancy downtown restaurant. And you realize you never actually asked what his impression was that first night. More than once, you catch yourself watching his profile as he talks to one of your family members. Everything about him is at ease and you wonder if it really is all fake. Not that you think anything about him is disingenuous, he’s just really good at making people like him. 

The only hiccup doesn’t come until your mother is pulling out dessert. According to your sister, she’s got an excellent pie in the refrigerator that you simply have to try. You’re about to say something when Joshua beats you to it. 

“I don’t think my little sugarplum likes fruit pies, but it sounds amazing and I’d love a piece,” Joshua interjects smoothly. 

Your sister nearly spits out her drink, whether it’s at the nickname or him speaking up for you, you’re not sure. In any other situation, you would scold him for the name, but you’re a little stunned he remembers you don’t like pie. It came up once in a rapid fire of likes and dislikes. 

“You’re right, she doesn’t,” your sister agrees. “I’d almost forgotten.” 

(That’s when you’re sure it was another of your sister’s tests. Trying to catch you in some kind of lie about your relationship. But, it doesn’t work and you feel a little victorious for that.)

The doorbell rings through the house and you look to your mother, silently asking if she’s expecting someone. It’s unusual for them to have company calling this late on a Friday night. It’s usually reserved for dinners with friends or family or galas. Unsurprisingly, your mother doesn’t seem to know who it could be, but disappears to answer the door all the same. When a voice drifts through from the hallway, you freeze on the spot.

“I really just came by to drop that off for my mom, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’d hate to intrude on dessert,” the guest says. 

“Nonsense, you’re not interrupting,” your mother insists. 

“I saw an unfamiliar car, so I figured you might have guests,” he says as they come through the doorway into the living area. 

Your heart stutters a little in your chest, feels heavier for seeing him. Somehow he looks taller and broader than the last time you saw him. He’s wearing his hair shorter and he looks more mature, somehow, like he’s seen so much more of the world than when you were together. Which is probably true, if you think about it. It’s been a couple years and that means he’s had more time working with his father. 

“That would be my car,” Joshua says, getting to his feet immediately and extending his hand. “I’m Joshua.” 

“Johnny,” he answers and shakes Joshua’s hand. Yet, his face looks a little tense and his eyes mostly stay on you. 

“It’s just family,” your mother shares, though Johnny can obviously see that himself, “since our darling daughter finally brought Joshua around to meet us.” 

“I’m glad she did, dinner was wonderful and the company was even better,” Joshua says with a smile at your mother. She nearly blushes at his compliment. 

“Oh, hush,” your mother says with a wave of her hand. “I was just getting some pie if you’d like to stay for a piece, Johnny. Although, I’d hate to keep you from home.”

Joshua sits back down next to you, a little closer than is strictly necessary, and puts his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You feel safe pressed up against his side like that. Johnny clears his throat when he looks away from the pair of you. “Gabby has been out of town all week, actually, so I’m going back to an empty home anyway. I’d love to stay for a piece of your famous cherry pie.” 

“Great!” your mother says and disappears off into the kitchen. 

“What’s got Gabby away?” your sister asks. 

“Just a conference,” Johnny answers. “There was a final banquet tonight and she’ll be home tomorrow.” 

“She’s busy, away this week, bachelorette next weekend,” she says offhand. 

“Keeping tabs on when everything is?” you ask of your sister. She looks at you like you’re crazy and Johnny looks awkward.

“No, I was invited to it,” your sister answers evenly. 

Before you can even answer, Joshua is speaking up. Probably sensing your discomfort. After all, you hadn’t gotten to tell him that Johnny’s fiance is friends with your younger sister. They had gone to school together and been close. Stealing her sister’s fiancée doesn’t seem to have impacted the friendship. 

“You must be excited with the big day getting so close,” Joshua says. He moves his arm from behind you so that he can take your hand on your thigh. It makes you look down at your hands before glancing at him, only to find his gaze on you already. It also means you miss the way Johnny follows the movement. 

“Uh, yeah, I mean, I’m definitely excited. It’s just been a lot of planning,” Johnny says. 

“I bet,” Joshua says. “Thank you so much for inviting me, I know how stressful changes can be.” 

“It’s no problem, I’m happy you’ll both be there,” Johnny says. 

With almost a practiced subtlety, Joshua squeezes your hand. There’s so much in that one movement. A reassurance, a reminder to breathe, a reminder that he’s there, a promise that everything is going to be okay. Your heart hurts seeing Johnny sitting in the living room so casually as if nothing happened, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you expected. Maybe that has something to do with this impossibly kind, completely idiotic person next to you. You also can’t help the way your gaze lands on him. Just in profile, at first, before he senses your look and turns to you with a dazzling smile. It’s like there’s nobody else in the world but the two of you.

The conversation shifts slightly when your mother comes back in with a tray full of pie slices and your father comes back with whatever record he was looking for to show Joshua. Just like that, you survive your first in-person interaction with Johnny. Actually come out of it feeling like you might be able to handle this. The smile you send Joshua while he’s eating his pie is so fond that you’re not even sure who you are. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night,” Jeonghan says in lieu of a hello.

“Hello to you too, I’m good, thanks for asking,” you retort.

“Greetings are for people who remember their best friends, not for people who send a single sentence recap after bringing their fake boyfriend home to meet the family,” Jeonghan states immediately.

“That’s a very long rule,” you note.

“Deserved, though,” Jeonghan says.

“I was tired, Han, it was a long night,” you explain.

“A long night where your ex showed up,” he reminds you.

“That actually wasn’t so bad,” you admit. “Joshua made it feel pretty easy.”

“Oh did he now?” 

You don’t have to be in the same room as Jeonghan to hear the expression on his face when he says that. “It was just easy, Jeonghan, nothing more than that.”

“What did your parents think?” he asks, switching gears.

“They loved him, like actually loved him. My mom was enamored and kept calling him handsome. My dad was talking about music with him and making plans to go check out some acoustic music venue. Even the ice queen couldn’t find anything to fault him for,” you share.

“She’s less of an ice queen and more of a mean girl and a bitch,” Jeonghan adds.

“You said it,” you mumble.

“I mean, come on, who thinks it’s okay for their friend to sleep with their sister’s fiancé? And then stays friends with the girl?” Jeonghan gets really defensive with this. He would ride for you to the ends of the world, which you do love. Just not today. 

“I don’t wanna relive that whole thing, it’s done and over. Nothing to do now,” you say, weariness seeping into your voice.

“Would you want to do anything about it?” Jeonghan asks.

“What do you mean?” You answer the question with a question.

“Like would you want to go back to when you were with Johnny?” Jeonghan asks.

You think about it for half a second. “No.” 

“That was fast,” Jeonghan comments.

“What’s there to go back to? He made his choice and I’m fine, honestly. It was weird seeing him and hearing him talk about his wedding, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” you say.

“Is that because of your Prince Charming?” Your best friend, always doing the most, puts this question into a sing-song voice. 

“He’s not a Prince Charming. You’re so annoying,” you scoff. 

“I don’t know, he sure seems to be saving you,” Jeonghan presses. 

“I can’t with…” you start, trailing off at the knock on your door.

“Who’s there?” Jeonghan asks. 

“No clue,” you answer, getting off your couch to go see. 

“I bet it’s Prince Charming,” Jeonghan laughs out.

“Would you fuck…” you begin as you open the door to find the very subject of your conversation on the other side, “off.”

“I’m right aren’t I?” Jeonghan is nearly shrieking with glee.

“Sorry, gotta go,” you say.

“Oh no, no, no,” Jeonghan tries.

You’re stepping aside to let Joshua into your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow for brunch.”

“Let me know if I need to add one more to the reservation,” Jeonghan says. 

“Goodbye,” you say with an eye roll Jeonghan can’t see, but will surely hear. You hang up as soon as he also says goodbye.

“Jeonghan?” Joshua guesses.

“Unfortunately,” you confirm. 

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting,” Joshua says. It’s nothing like when someone says it out of forced courtesy. He actually seems like he’s making sure he’s not intruding. 

“No, not at all, I just wasn’t expecting you,” you admit. 

“Sometimes that’s the best time to come over,” Joshua says with a shrug.

“Does that mean you have a plan?” you wonder.

“Yup,” Joshua says.

“Gonna tell me what it is?” you ask.

“Nope,” he says with a concerning smile, popping the end of nope. “Go put on something comfortable but with layers. And we’re not going hiking or anything like that.” 

An hour later, you’re pulling off the road in an area you’ve never been to, even with as long as you’ve lived here. The views are instantly enough to take your breath away. You can see the whole city below you, all the bustle of traffic and skyscrapers. Somewhere, you know there are people rushing to and fro, too busy to stop and appreciate what’s around them. Straight ahead, you can see the way the low clouds glide around, splitting around the very tops of the buildings. It’s beautiful and it also makes you realize just how small you are. 

While you’ve been appreciating the views in front of you, Joshua has been gathering his supplies from the trunk. By the time you turn around, he’s laying a blanket and basket down on the ground in front of the car. 

“Is this…did you set up a picnic?” you ask.

“I wanted to show you this place and figured some food might be nice,” he says with an easy smile. 

“That’s so sweet,” you say earnestly.

You settle on the blanket next to him and look through the food he’s pulling out. There are some of your favorite things and some things you’re not even sure you’ve seen before. Somehow, though, you feel like they might become some of your new favorites. He even brought plates and he sets about putting one together for you to pick at.

Joshua tells you about how this is his favorite place and he found it completely by accident. He loves being down in the city and around all the people, but there’s something nice about seeing things from this perspective too. It’s like he can just disconnect for a while. Turn off his phone. Read or listen to music. Just be totally alone. It’s how he works through a problem or gets the perspective he needs.

“I can’t believe you’re sharing it with me,” you admit and his eyes light up with his smile.

“I just thought, after last night, you might appreciate having a place to get away from it all,” Joshua says.

You want to say something, anything, really, to acknowledge what Joshua just said. Try to say something. Your throat doesn’t want to cooperate, it seems. Your brain, either. In fact, all you can manage to do is turn away to hide the tears. Joshua is observant, though. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his chest and runs his hand along your back. He quietly soothes you as you cry out a lot of emotions you didn’t even realize you were experiencing. 

And something about him comforting you, this near stranger who doesn’t actually owe you anything, sets you off more. In the early days of your relationship with Johnny, you know it was good. It must have been. Surely, it was more than a relationship between two people who had known each other for years with families that were intertwined. You don’t remember it anymore. Don’t remember him ever holding you like this without even knowing what was wrong. Don’t remember him taking you on a date like this just because he thought you would enjoy it. Since you haven’t seriously dated anyone since the break-up, he also feels like your only frame of reference. That makes you sad for an entirely different reason. Who loses it over someone just being a little kind?

“I’m so sorry,” you finally say when you manage to pull yourself together. 

“For what?” he asks. 

“For just crying like that and being such a mess,” you say. 

Joshua shakes his head. Moves his hand up to your face and waits for confirmation that it’s okay. When you nod, he gently wipes the tears from under your eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. What you’re going through with your ex, most of us could never even imagine that kind of pain.”

“But still, you barely know me and here you are trying to be kind and all I can do is cry,” you say. 

“First of all, I think last night and the food I put together show I’ve actually learned a lot about you in a short time,” he says and you have to laugh at that. He’s right. “Second, I’m just happy you feel safe enough with me to cry. It’s not healthy to hold all that in. You’re not in this alone.”

That brings you up short more than anything. He’s right, again (an annoying habit, if you’re being honest). You don’t feel any hesitation around him. Nothing to stop you from crying if you feel like crying. That’s unusual, to say the least. Normally, you’ll do anything to avoid anyone seeing you emotional. But, this man you just met is different. He’s safe. You’re not sure how or why, but you know you can trust him. 

“Are you free tomorrow for brunch?” you ask. Joshua gives you a quizzical look for a moment at the sudden topic change. 

“Yeah, why?” he asks. 

“I just need to send one quick text and then I want to do what you said you normally do here. Disconnect from the world and just appreciate the afternoon,” you say and find yourself smiling along with his smile. He really is so beautiful. 

You: add one to the reservation for brunch tomorrow and i’ll call you tonight when i’m home

You switch your phone into Do Not Disturb before the response comes and turn all your attention back to Joshua. 

Over the next couple weeks, Joshua slips seamlessly into your life and your existing friendships. Some of them, like those closest to you that come along to the Sunday brunches, know the whole story. It’s not like they would believe you had kept a relationship secret for that long, anyway. And it’s good to have a few extra sets of eyes and ears helping to sell the story. Other friends get the same story that your family and Johnny got. It’s not that you don’t trust them, you do. It’s more important to keep the circle of people who know the real story as small as possible, though, so that it actually succeeds. All your friends adore him from the second they meet him. The only surprise is how well Jeonghan seems to be adjusting to sharing your time. He wants to give you a hard time, yet he doesn’t. 

You meet all Joshua’s friends and coworkers, too. It feels way easier than it should the first time you join him and his coworkers after work for drinks. They spend most of the time giving Joshua a hard time that he’s kept you to himself for so long. It’s easy to fall into step and you find that you do know him a lot better than you think. So, it’s just as easy for you to jump in when they’re giving him a hard time. He pretends to be annoyed, but you can tell by the way he smiles that he likes it. It’s one of those genuine smiles that makes his eyes bigger and brighter. Everything just feels…easy. Like this whole thing wasn’t actually a bad idea after all. 

Your favorite part might be the first time you got with him to an Open Mic Night and get to see him play. He’s got that easy kind of confidence on the guitar. Like he knows he’s talented, but not in a cocky way. It’s his singing that catches you off guard. His voice moves over the notes with an ease that makes you wonder why this isn’t something he’s doing for a living. He’s got this way of pulling you into songs that you don’t even know. And he’s so kind with the people that show up just to see him play. They all seem just as happy to meet you and know that he’s happy. 

There’s only been one part that’s been difficult. Not difficult, exactly, but not as comfortable as some of the other things. While you and Joshua talked through anything and everything to prepare to start a fake relationship, you covered comfort levels with physical affection. You both say you’re comfortable with physical touch, though he seems to seek it out more than you do. That includes at least some level of PDA as a couple. You’ve never really been one to just randomly make out with a partner in public, but you’ve never been shy about expressing affection either. It was fine, when it was all theoretical. 

In actual practice, it’s been a little more difficult. The first time Joshua had pressed a kiss to the side of your head while you were out with people that didn’t know it was fake caught you off guard. It shouldn’t have, he asked before doing it and you confirmed it was fine. What you hadn’t been entirely prepared for was how it would feel when he did it. Or how it would feel that he was so casual about it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it wasn’t making you rethink everything in your life. 

Tonight, you’re hanging out with friends at Hyejin’s house. You and her have been friends since before you even started school. So, she knows what’s really going on with Joshua. Your other friends there, though, are mostly not in on it. Which is fine. You’re shockingly comfortable with the song and dance. 

It’s not actually fine. 

It starts the same as any other time you’ve been out somewhere with him. You’re sitting close together on the couch, thighs pressed together, with his arm behind you along the back of the couch. Periodically, his fingers play with the sleeve of your shirt. It’s an absentminded habit and you’re used to it. He’s usually keeping some sort of contact with you in a very subtle way. You learned right away that he did like physical touch, but it was rarely something obvious. One drink in and his affection got a little more obvious. Arm wrapped firmly around you. More kisses pressed to the side of your head. 

Two drinks in and it changes again. He removes his arm from around you in favor of holding your hand. Playing with your fingers while he’s having other conversations, like he doesn’t even realize. Hand squeezing your thigh. Or tracing patterns into the material of your pants. Head dropping down on your shoulder when he’s not talking to someone else. And it’s definitely not fine. You’re nursing your drink, but even if you weren’t, his constant presence would sober you. Since you’ve just finally finished your first, you think maybe a second is a good idea.

It’s not. Joshua gets another drink, his third, and you decline. Instead, you stick with the water you’ve been drinking since you couldn’t even finish your second. You want to be able to respond, whatever happens. Respond to whatever new form of affection unlocks with this next drink. 

“I hope you stick around, you’re my favorite of the partners that we’ve met,” Mimi announces to Joshua when he plops back down next to you. 

You’re glad that you hadn’t taken a sip because it would’ve come out immediately. Mimi has been a friend for a long time as well, and you love her, but she doesn’t know the truth. 

“Don’t I know it,” Joshua agrees, earning a lot of laughter. 

“Have you met Johnny yet? I know you’re going to the wedding,” Taehyung wonders. 

“Yeah Johnny showed up magically the night I brought him by to meet my parents, sister, and brother-in-law,” you say, regaining some composure. 

“I think you traded up,” Joshua says, eyes laser focused on you. 

You’re not so lucky this time and you just took a sip. You nearly choke. “Do you?”

“Definitely,” Joshua insists. 

“I agree,” Jimin says and Mimi elbows him in the side. “What?”

“You’re going to the wedding,” she says. 

“So? He’s a fucking tool,” Jimin shrugs off. 

“Are you all going, then?” Joshua asks. 

“A good portion of us, yeah,” Hyejin says. “Family connections, you know?” 

“I wasn’t invited,” Mimi pouts. 

“Want to come?” Taehyung asks and Mimi laughs. 

“Tae, my love, you can’t just invite people,” Mimi says and shakes her head. 

“I have a plus-one,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I think we all knew I wouldn’t make it to the wedding in my relationship. But, Johnny still thinks I’m bringing someone.”

“Damn, okay. I’m in,” Mimi says. 

“I’m not going either, my family ties weren’t enough to get an invite,” Jeonghan says without any sorrow in his eyes. 

“That’s because of what you said to him after the break up,” Hyejin interrupts with a laugh. 

“I don’t remember saying anything that bad,” Jeonghan shrugs, and examines his finger nails to show how little he cares. 

“Remind me to show you what he said some time, it was fucking gold,” Hyejin says to Joshua.

“Do you have it saved?” you ask.

“I should have it framed, honestly,” Hyejin says. “Get you a best friend like Jeonghan, for real, for real.” 

“Hey, that’s my best friend, get your own,” you joke. 

“That’s a shame you won’t be there though, Han, I could’ve used the familiar face,” Joshua says.

“Like you’re going to be paying attention to anyone but your date,” Hyejin teases. 

“Can you blame me? I still can’t believe how lucky I got,” Joshua says without any hint that he’s pretending. It makes your heart skip a couple beats as you try to catch your breath. 

“Ugh, I’m so single,” Mimi whines. 

“Maybe not after the wedding,” Hyejin teases. 

The conversations devolve from there into separate, smaller chats. Joshua is back to tracing patterns into your leg. Without warning, he pops his head up and places a quick peck on your lips before dropping his head onto your shoulder again. He’s so nonchalant about it that you’re not really sure it even happened. You’ve kissed a couple times like that, quick pecks in public. But, it’s always been when you’ve talked about it. It isn’t until you look up to meet Jeonghan’s eyes that you know it all really happened. 

Joshua, unaware that he’s just turned your world a little upside down, moves his head to look at you again. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

It’s barely a whisper and you know he’s not drunk. He’s not sober either, though. And you’ve had drinks around each other before. He’s just never been quite so glued to your side or free with the compliments. You’re also not usually so singularly focused on him. A fact that doesn’t go entirely unnoticed. 

“Thank you,” you whisper back. 

“I’m kinda hungry,” he continues in a bit of a whine. 

“Well you were the one who thought skipping dinner was smart,” you tease him. 

“But my little honeybunch,” he teases back. You snort and miss the way several of your friends watch the interaction because they know how you are about weird pet names. 

“Try again, sweetheart,” you answer. 

“Sweetheart, I like the way that sounds,” he says, distracted. 

“Just a little longer and we can leave and get something to eat,” you say and he sighs. 

“Fine,” he concedes and kisses your cheek, just barely a whisper away from the corner of your mouth. 

About half an hour later, you say your goodbyes. Despite your suggestions, Joshua continued drinking instead of switching to water. It’s as fine as it can be, though. He’s just an affectionate drinker. He wraps an arm around you, slipping a hand into your back pocket so that he can whisper thanks again. You do your best to shrug it off and let him drape his arms around your shoulder instead. 

The car ride is quiet, initially. You pick a playlist that he made for you after you first met. Something he seems to enjoy. You’re nearly back at his place when he says that he doesn’t have anything to eat. But, luckily, there’s a place around the corner that he loves that’s still open. He manages to place an order on the app, gets something for you as well, and pays before getting there. All you have to do is walk in. 

“I hope you’ll come in and eat with me,” he says when you get back into the car. 

You’re not really sure how to tell him that you don’t want to. Not because you don’t want to spend time with him. Or that you don’t appreciate him ordering something he knows you’ll like. No, it’s so much deeper than that. It’s that you don’t know if your heart can handle it. You’ve got a couple more weeks of this and your heart is taking a beating. All of this is fake. It’ll be over after the wedding. But, the compliments don’t feel fake. The kisses don’t feel fake. The affection doesn’t feel fake. Your heart racing is real, oh so real. You don’t need anyone to tell you that you’re in way too deep. 

None of that comes out, though. 

“Sure, sweetheart,” you say and hold your breath for a second. You hadn’t meant to say that when it was just you. 

Joshua smiles over at you. “Really do like that.” 

Does he know what he’s doing to you? Can he hear your heart hammering in your chest? Can he hear your breath catch? Does he know how insanely beautiful he is? Or that he’s all the more beautiful because he’s so unfailingly kind? 

Probably not, because he gets distracted and starts singing along as the song changes. It’s welcome, but also a little devastating. His voice cuts through you in a way you’re still very unprepared to handle.

After another few minutes, you’re at Joshua’s place. He springs back into action and tries to open your door for you, even though you’re the driver. He settles for taking hold of your hand as he walks to his door, only reluctantly dropping it when he gets to the door. 

His apartment is familiar to you, it has to be for this to be believable. So, he sets the food out and you grab plates. You grab a couple waters from the fridge while he takes the food over to the couch, bypassing the table. You sit next to him, leaving enough space between you that you’re not touching. Hoping he doesn’t think anything of it. 

It’s useless, apparently, because he slides over to press into your side.

What’s worse (not that you thought that was possible) is that he picks things off of your plate and gives you food off his plate. Tries to feed it to you, actually, and pouts when you don’t let him. It takes everything in you not to beg him to be gentle on your heart. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing to you as he smiles and jokes. Doesn’t seem to think twice about playing with your hands or his hand on your leg or any of the things he usually does when you have an audience. There’s nobody here to see and he’s not usually this touchy when you’re alone. Maybe it’s the drinks.

“I like your friends a lot, you know,” he says out of nowhere.

“They like you, too,” you assure him.

“What about you?” he asks.

“I’d assume they like me as well,” you laugh out.

“No, I meant me. Do you like me?” he asks, eyes big and vulnerable.

Please, Joshua, I’m begging you. Be gentle with me, you think so loud you’re worried he might hear.

“I’m actually a little sick of you,” you joke. 

“But, but,” he begins and dramatically throws himself in your lap. 

“You’re the worst,” you say without any bite. Your hands find their way into his hair, softly running through the strands.

“That feels nice,” he says softly. “Can I just stay like this? I’m tired.” 

“Of course,” you whisper.

“You’ll stay with me?” he asks, sounding like he’s about to drift off.

You’re sure he won’t remember any of this. Not because he’s drunk, but he’s on the edges of sleep. So, you answer in a whisper. “Always.” 

Maybe he’s not the one that needs to be careful with your heart. Maybe it’s you that needs to be careful. You know that you could walk away. That you could just remind him that this is all fake and there’s nobody around to see now. That’s not what you do. So, maybe you’re just as much to blame. 

Sunday Joshua: thanks for taking care of me last night Joshua: idk why the drinks hit me so hard Joshua: when did you leave?  Monday Joshua: is everything okay? Did i say something stupid? Tuesday Joshua: i don’t wanna sound clingy but are we still getting together at your place after work?

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know that you need to respond. You know that what you’re doing isn’t fair to anyone. It’s not like Joshua can somehow read your mind to realize you’re spiraling. It just feels a little paralyzing. This is a weird limbo of knowing you might be in over your head, but still believing this is all fake. 

Jeonghan: hey dummy i know you’re ignoring joshua so i’m coming over tonight  Jeonghan: i told him you’ve been busy at work and i haven’t heard from you either but we have some talking to do

Leave it to Jeonghan. You had almost forgotten, with how well you’ve gotten to know Joshua, that it was Jeonghan who introduced you in the first place. Of course he would text your best friend when he couldn’t get a hold of you. Does that make you feel better? Not really, you think, because it feels like a real relationship in a way. Oh well, you can talk about it with Jeonghan. If he shows up, that is.

And he does, less than an hour later.

“I’m here,” he announces when he comes in the door.

“Thanks for knocking and giving me the chance to pretend I’m not here,” you call back.

“Your car is outside and you have your location turned on,” Jeonghan says. 

“Right,” you answer as he comes through the hall holding a bag from your favorite take out place.

“At least I come bearing gifts,” he says.

“You’re an angel, do you know that?” you ask and reach for the bag.

Jeonghan snorts. “I’m gonna remind you of that the next time you call me a demon.” 

“Well, Lucifer was a fallen angel,” you reason with a shrug. 

“I hate you,” he says.

“I know,” you answer. 

Jeonghan busies himself with taking out the food and making sure you have napkins. Tells you what he wants to drink when you get up to go into the kitchen. Calls for you to grab some utensils as well. By the time you sit back down with him, he’s flipping through a streaming service trying to find something to watch. It’s not at all what you’re expecting and you just let it happen. The two of you have been friends long enough to know you should just let things play out.

With some mindless show on in the background, Jeonghan talks about work and your friends and everything else that’s been going on the past few days. Like it’s been weeks since you last saw him. Mostly, he talks about how Taehyung has been blowing up his phone asking for advice about Mimi, which is actually news to you. Sure, you saw him ask her if she wanted to go with him to the wedding. What you had not expected was for him to actually be interested. Which he is, if his messages to Jeonghan are anything to go by. It’s been everything from advice about talking to her to what kinds of things she might like as a surprise. They would probably be cute, you think. 

“Yeah, well, sometimes feelings catch us off guard,” Jeonghan says when you admit your surprise.

Damn. Did you really walk right into that?

“True,” you admit, knowing that’s the best answer you can give.

“Talk to me,” Jeonghan urges. 

“About what?” you ask to buy more time.

“Joshua,” he says.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you state. That makes him fix you with a look.

“Clearly there is or you wouldn’t be ignoring him,” he says. 

“We’re not really dating so I don’t owe him constant updates. I’m not ignoring him. I just have other shit to do,” you say without looking at him.

“Would you like to be?” he asks. That does make you turn to him.

“Like to be what?” you ask, though you think you know.

“Really dating him,” Jeonghan says.

It’s a crossroads kind of moment. You could say that you don’t want that. That would be a lie, though, and Jeonghan doesn’t like it when you lie. Can always tell the second you say something that’s not true. The truth is that you’ve spent nearly every moment since that stupid night at Hyejin’s place thinking about what you actually feel for your fake boyfriend. 

“I don’t…know,” you say slowly and earn a smile because it’s not a lie.

“I was there the other night too, I saw the way it all played out,” he says.

“I mean, does it matter? This is all fake and soon, it’ll be over,” you say.

“Of course it matters and it’ll be over soon? Please,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I know he’s told you that he wants to keep you in his life after Johnny’s wedding. So, what? You’re just gonna be like okay, that was fun, let’s never talk again?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say quietly.

He rolls his eyes. “Try again, buttercup.” 

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like me like that, he’s just nice,” you say, avoidant as ever. 

“He looks at you like he’d give you the moon if you asked for it,” Jeonghan snorts out.

“He’s just nice, Han,” you disagree.

“Maybe,” your closest friend concedes, a rare move for him. It feels weird all the same. “Whatever it is, text him back. He misses you and I don’t want to hear anymore about how he’s worrying he upset you.”

“He’s been worrying that he upset me?” you ask. Your heart constricts at that.

“Yeah, for some reason he actually likes your company,” he says. “Can’t relate.”

You smack Jeonghan on the arm. “Says the man who shows up at my place unannounced when I ignore him for a day.”

“No, I was just bored,” he argued. “And you’re way too stubborn to sort out your shit on your own.”

 “I’m not stubborn, but fine, I’ll text him,” you relent.

“Now,” he says.

“What?”

“Text him now so that I know you actually did it.”

You roll your eyes at him, but pull your phone out anyway. Angling it away from Jeonghan so that he can’t see your screen. He’s such a nosy brat sometimes.

You: hey, i’m sorry. It’s been really busy and i had a lot on my mind You: wanna do something tomorrow?

The response comes right away and you ignore the smug look on Jeonghan’s face as you quickly make plans. If Jeonghan was anyone else, he would probably just let you be since he ultimately got what he wanted. But, he’s not anyone else. And he’s as caring to his friends as he is calculating when he wants something. So, he’s not doing it to be cruel, not at all. He just wants you to consider what you’re actually feeling. 

You’ll never tell Jeonghan how much you appreciate him talking everything through with you. Never tell him how good it feels to get all the thoughts out of your head. To his credit, he’s not smug and he doesn’t tell you that he’s been right about your feelings all along. He just listens, supports you when you need it, and encourages you to keep thinking through everything that’s going on.

As a make-up for slightly ignoring Joshua (over your own internal freak out), you take him to dinner at your favorite restaurant. It’s this tiny little hole-in-the-wall that people seem to walk past. The kind of place where you couldn’t overspend even if you tried because the couple that owned it just wanted to share good food. The kind of place where they know everyone by name. It makes you feel instantly at ease. 

Joshua doesn’t say it, but he also kind of can’t believe you wanted to show him some place that meant so much to you. All he could do was watch, with so much fondness, as you spoke to the couple about everything under the sun. Watch as you turned slightly red when they scolded you for taking so long to bring Joshua by. Smile as you promised the both of you would be back. Despite trying to pay, you beat him to it. Even leaving a massive tip because you insisted the couple had undercharged you. They made a big show of not wanting to take the tip and you only reminded them the cash would stay sitting on the counter. You weren’t taking it back either. 

You don’t really think about it when you take a picture of you and Joshua to upload on Instagram. At least, you try not to. Later, when you’re home and winding down for the night, you pull the picture back up. It’s amazing just how happy both of you look. You don’t need to read the comments to know that you’ve never looked so happy in your life. Every part of you wants to pull back again. It’s overwhelming. But, Jeonghan’s voice plays in your head and instead you push past. Make more plans that could break your heart. You have to just trust that he won’t. 

It isn’t until the weekend that you’re able to see him again because your schedules didn’t quite match up. That doesn’t stop him from calling you at night, though. Insisting that he wants to know how your day was, even if you can only spare a few minutes for a call. (Which never ends up being the case. You fall asleep on the phone with him twice. His voice is just so soothing when it’s all deep and soft.) 

Again, Joshua tells you the date is a surprise. He can be a little bit of a demon, when it suits him. Sure, he likes to pretend he’s not. That he’s above the chaos. Then, he does something like this and he can’t really escape it. But, he’s so sure he knows what you like that he’s positive you’ll enjoy the date. You remember how that chat had gone, too. You were ready to go to sleep, but unable to say goodnight. 

(“I have our next date planned,” Joshua says, voice soft to match the calm of the night.

“What is it?” you wonder.

“A surprise,” he answers.

“What if I don’t like it?” you ask back.

“You will,” he assures you.

“You sure seem to think you know me,” you joke. 

“Yeah, I do. Don’t worry, you’ll like this too,” he says.

There was no point in denying it. That confidence sent a bit of a shiver through you.) 

It turns out that the date is at a winery where you’re painting with wine. You have to ask him to say it again because you’ve only ever heard of wine and paint classes. Painting with wine is entirely new to you. It sounds fun, though, and you know how crafty Joshua can be, have seen all the projects around his apartment. So, even though you’re definitely not that artistic, you’re excited to see this as well. 

Admittedly, by the end of the session, your painting isn’t bad. It was a bit weird to use wine in that way, but they let you drink as well. Which makes it a lot easier to just go along with the idea of painting. Joshua’s painting, on the other hand, is beautiful. Not for the first time, you think his talents might be wasted at an office job. You’ve seen the bracelets he makes and now you’ve seen him paint. You’ve heard him sing and play the guitar. He’s impossibly artistic in a way that should make you jealous. Instead, it just makes you more endeared to him. 

You snap a picture of him and his art when he’s not looking and upload it before he can even realize it. It’s only when a notification goes off on his phone that he realizes. He doesn’t even say anything, just gets a sparkle in his eyes that makes you weary immediately. He’s busy tapping away on his own phone before a notification sounds on yours. Maybe you weren’t the only one to steal a candid shot if the picture of you laughing with a glass of wine in one hand and a paintbrush in the other is anything to go by. It’s the caption that really ruins you, though. Just a simple “think I’m addicted to her light”. It’s so simple and also so much sweeter than yours. You fight through the urge to run away. 

Which lasts until you get home from dinner. It was the perfect date, truly. Joshua always seems to know exactly how to plan out a day so everything works. After sipping wine and painting, he took you to one of his favorite restaurants. Nothing too pretentious, just kind of unassuming. The kind of place where you get good food and even better conversation. It’s (mostly) easy to keep your mind off the way your heart keeps racing.

When you’re back home, you’re not so lucky.

Back home, alone in your apartment, there aren’t any distractions. Nothing to stop your mind from all the ways that it can sabotage your own happiness. Nothing to stop you from thinking about how nobody, not even Johnny, has ever planned out such thoughtful dates for you. Nobody has ever taken the time to really know you like Joshua. Even if you won’t admit it, he knows you better than anyone you’ve ever dated. Which is terrifying, since this is all fake. And he hasn’t even known you that long. 

So, you do the rational thing and you pull back again. Answer his texts so that he doesn’t send Jeonghan over to figure out what’s wrong, but don’t make solid plans. Talk a lot about a work project that you really need to get done ahead of schedule so that you’re not stressing leading up to the wedding. And you throw in some easy suggestions in the meantime so that it still seems like you’re making an effort. 

Lunch on a work day so that it has a set ending time. Which still tugs at your heartstrings a bit because he takes a longer lunch just to meet you closer to where you work. 

An event where your parents purchased a table for charity because he’s in high demand with your family around. And he can’t be as affectionate. 

His Open Mic Nights, but with the excuse that you can’t stay too late because of your project and he should stick around with his friends. You’ll get home safely.

Small little things that keep you around him and keep up your conversations while still giving you time to breathe. You’re sure that you’re pulling it all off. And then, the wedding is around the corner. The finish line is in sight. 

You: I’m not going to the wedding You: you don’t have to come pick me up Joshua: what are you talking about? You: i’m not going Joshua: but it’s literally in a few hours? You: yeah and i don’t wanna go, so you’re off the hook You: thanks for everything, but you don’t have to pretend anymore

Even if you know you’re being a little petulant, you don’t really care. This whole thing was supposed to be about protecting your heart. Protecting your pride. Not showing up to your cheating ex-fiance's wedding alone and looking like some kind of loser. It was not supposed to be about your heart getting clobbered anyway. So, you’re doing the only logical thing you can think of. Ignoring your problems. Avoiding both the wedding and Joshua. What you’re not prepared for, though you should be, is the knock that comes at your door half an hour later. 

Joshua is on the other side of the door and your heart actually stops. He’s got his tux on and his hair styled back off his face. His eyes are soft as they take you in, noting that you have your hair and make up done. Though, you’re still in your sweats. You got at least that far before you decided this was a stupid fucking decision. 

“Can I come in?” he asks when you don’t say anything.

“Sure,” you say and step aside. 

“You look like you’re getting ready,” he comments once he’s inside.

“I was, until I texted you,” you answer. “Speaking of, why are you here?”

“Because we had plans,” he says. 

“Yeah to go see my ex-fiance marry the girl he cheated on me with. Oh, and for you to pretend to be my boyfriend so I didn’t look pathetic,” you say with a huff. 

“You’re not pathetic. He’s an asshole,” Joshua says. He doesn’t swear often, so it catches you a little off guard. 

“Well, whatever, you don’t have to go. So, I’m not really sure why you’re here,” you say. 

“You’re being so cold. What’s going on?” Joshua asks and reaches out to you. Instead, you duck away from his touch. 

“Nothing is going on. It was stupid to care what Johnny thought or to try and save face somehow,” you say. 

“It’s not stupid. He hurt you and you didn’t deserve that,” Joshua urges.

“You really don’t know me that well. Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I was awful to him and he had no choice,” you say.

“We both know that’s not true,” he says.

“Do we?” you challenge. 

“Yes, we do,” he presses. “There is nothing you could do that justifies cheating instead of just breaking it off. But, I also know you didn’t do anything wrong. Jeonghan and I talked about it.”

“You spoke to Jeonghan about my relationship behind my back?” you question. 

“What is going on? We’ve been hanging out for weeks and getting to know each other. I just wanted to know more about someone I was going to be helping. And I like knowing you,” Joshua says and you have to look away. You don’t need the reminder of how much time you’ve spent with him.

“Yeah, sorry about all that time we wasted. I’ll pay you back for the tux or anything else you had to buy to pretend to date me,” you say and he looks genuinely confused.

“I don’t…want you to pay me back for anything. It wasn’t a waste of time. I did this because I wanted to,” he says.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to pretend anymore because I’m not going to the stupid fucking wedding. It was a really bad idea in the first place,” you say.

Joshua clenches his jaw and looks away. Like maybe he’s frustrated. “What is going on? Do you still have feelings for him?” 

“For who? Johnny?” you ask, so insanely caught off guard that you forget you’re mad.

“Yes,” Joshua says tightly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you bark out.

“Well? You’re being really weird and now you don’t want to go to a wedding that we’ve been planning on,” he starts.

“Yeah, which should make you happy, since you don’t have to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore,” you say.

“Because you’re still in love with Johnny,” Joshua finishes like he hadn’t even heard you.

“Oh my god,” you nearly scream. “I’m not fucking in love with Johnny. This isn’t about him.”

“So, you don’t want to go to the wedding and it has nothing to do with him? That doesn’t make any sense,” he says. 

“No, I don’t want to keep doing this,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “I don’t want to keep pretending to date you when I -”

You clamp your mouth shut. Unable to believe that you almost blurted out how you feel.

“When you what?” he challenges. “What? Is it that bad being around me? Is that it? Are you just sick of me? Ready to toss me aside?”

You laugh bitterly, not even able to appreciate the irony in the situation. “No, Joshua, I don’t want to toss you aside.” 

“Then, what? What am I supposed to think when you’ve been pushing me away for the last couple weeks? And I have to act like I haven’t noticed all the ways you’ve kept me at arm’s length since we went to the winery. Why did you just decide, literally today, that you don’t want to go to the wedding after all?” he asks, rambling. He’s pacing in front of you. “Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?”

“Because I don’t want to get hurt!” you blurt out. “Because I don’t want to go to my fucking scumbag of an ex’s wedding where everyone is going to be giving me these looks of pity or focusing on my relationship with him when all I want is this.”

“This? What?” he asks, coming to a stop.

“This, Joshua, you and me. Having this just all be pretend is breaking my heart. I can’t keep doing it. It was supposed to keep me from getting my heart broken. It sucks and I hate it and I just wish it wasn’t pretend. I don’t want to go to the wedding and have you be so sweet and kind and caring when I’m going to know it has an expiration date. That it’s all just been for show,” you admit. You turn away, clutching your arms around your center because you’re so tired. And so exposed. So vulnerable. It’s awful.

The tears won’t stop, so you don’t notice how Joshua has closed the space between you until he wraps his arms around you from behind. Pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.

“So, let’s stop saying it’s pretend,” he whispers. 

“What?” you whisper back.

He turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him and gently brushes away the tears. “Let’s stop saying it’s fake. It doesn’t feel fake, does it?”

“No,” is all you can manage.

“So, it’s not fake and we’re not pretending,” he says.

“But,” you start to protest. 

“I knew I was in trouble, really deep trouble, as soon as we left your parents’ house. I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he says as he gently runs a thumb across your cheek to wipe away a tear . Your eyes go wide.

“That was barely a week in,” you say and he just shrugs. “And I’d dumped all my bullshit on you.”

“I think that’s actually what made me like you so much,” he says. “It was supposed to be fake and we were trying to get to know each other well enough to pull it off. But, instead, I just realized you were actually perfect.”

“Perfect? I was broken,” you joke and he shakes his head.

“No, you’ve been hurt. Who hasn’t? You’re also strong, kind, funny, a fiercely loyal friend, and one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met, inside and out,” he says. 

“That’s so, you’re so sweet,” you say and try to hide your face. He doesn’t let you. “You like me?”

“I’ve liked you the whole time. I did think it was a date, after all,” he says. “And do you think I’m that affectionate with everyone?”

“We were pretending,” you argue.

“I wasn’t,” he argues back.

“Our closest friends thought you were,” you disagree.

“And was anyone else there in my apartment when I was still being affectionate?” he asks.

“Well, no, but…” you start.

“I heard you say always,” he tells you.

“You did?” you ask, sure that it’s been your secret this whole time.

“We don’t have to go to the wedding. But, if it’s just because you don’t want this to be over with me, then it’s not going to be over. I’m yours for as long as you want me,” he says so earnestly it nearly makes you blush.

“Careful, you might get sick of me,” you joke.

He puts a finger under your chin so he can look you in the eyes. “I’ll say it again. I’m yours as long as you want me. I won’t get sick of you.” 

“I…” you start and don’t know where to go. So you do the only thing you can think of and kiss him. It’s clear he’s a little caught off guard, but he recovers quickly. His arms wrap around you to hold you tight against him. It’s the first time you’ve really kissed him and you’re so screwed because he really is perfect at this too. 

“So, do I get you for the rest of today?” he asks.

You take in his tuxedo again, for real this time. Appreciating how well it’s tailored and how amazing he looks. With a sigh, you say, “you know, it’s a shame to waste such a nice tux.”

“Are you…I thought we weren’t going,” he stutters.

“I’m probably gonna have to fix my makeup in the car, but why not? I want to show off my super hot and very real boyfriend,” you say and watch him choke on air. 

“You can’t just say…” he starts.

“Damn, sick of me already?” you tease.

“You know I’m not,” he answers and moves to follow you.

“No, no. You don’t get to see me changing. I’ll be back out in a second,” you say. 

You’re in the middle of shimmying into your dress when you realize that you do still have a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out. This whole situation has been unusual, though, so it probably makes sense that there isn’t a template. Once you have your shoes on, you walk back into the living room, prepared to say something, only to find Joshua speechless.

“You look…” he starts.

“You’ve seen the dress already,” you say and smile.

“Not on you. Not in person. You look amazing,” he says and crosses to pull you into his arms. “Are you sure we have to go?”

“Yes,” you say and swat him. “But, I do know we have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m not in a rush,” he says and allows you to step away.

“We might need to be in a bit of a rush,” you say, checking the time and gathering all your things. 

“Let’s go, then,” Joshua says and offers his arm. 

The wedding passes in kind of a blur. In truth, you barely even register Johnny or what he’s doing beyond the actual ceremony. The reception is so massive that it’s easiest just to focus on the people around you. Especially when you’re at a table with your friends. Thankfully, you’re not at a table with your parents or your sister. It does mean, though, that you’re sitting next to Hyejin, who has definitely realized that something shifted between you and Joshua. So, she’s trying to sneak in a question any time she can. Which is hard, given that Joshua is more attached to you than ever. And Hyejin doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to you. All you manage to let her know is that it’s real now and that you’ll fill her in after the wedding. (You’re also thankful that people seem to be cooing over Taehyung and Mimi since they’re the shiny new topic.)

It’s also nice to have Joshua there because he’s a built in way to excuse yourself from any conversation that you don’t want to be part of. It’s easy to just say you’re going to go back to the table. Or, in the case of a good song coming on, he’ll be quick to drag you to the dance floor and away from whatever conversation you’re stuck in. He’s a good dancer, too. You don’t miss the way Hyejin catches your eye when the first slow song comes on and he pulls you close to him. But, that’s a conversation for another day. All you wanted was to appreciate the way his hand felt on your lower back or your hand felt in his. 

When it was finally time to leave, Joshua led you out of the event, arm around you to guide you. Neither of you were drunk, but you had still hired someone to take you to and from the wedding anyway. A gift from your parents to appreciate you “doing the right thing” and coming to the wedding. For the sake of the families. It made you roll your eyes at the time, yet you’re thankful now. It would be far better than having to take an Uber or trying to get a room at the hotel (and risking seeing everyone else staying there the next morning). The ride home also gave you the chance to talk. Really talk. Neither of you cared much that someone else was driving (and he had the partition up, anyway), as you talked about your feelings honestly for the first time. 

As it turned out, you had a lot to say. Both of you. You hadn’t been nearly as good at hiding your feelings from Joshua as you had been at hiding them from yourself. He had hoped you were going to admit them to him after that night at his apartment. Instead, you avoided him. Yes, he knew that you had been avoiding him. You also weren’t very good at picking up on the signs he dropped about his feelings for you. He admitted that he could have just said something, but he was trying to be subtle so he didn’t scare you off. Trying to let his actions speak through more affection. You admit you were scared to think it was anything more than it actually was. Scared of your feelings. Scared of getting hurt again. Joshua completely understands that and admits that he’s a little scared, too, because you’re definitely more important to him than he was anticipating. He’s also confident that you can work through it together. It gives you a feeling of hope. Makes everything about you feel lighter. You see that relief reflected in Joshua’s eyes when they scan yours. 

The car pulls to a stop and he gets out first. He holds his hand out to help you out of the car. You’re not really sure what comes over you.

“Come up with me,” you ask, but it’s more of a statement. 

He hesitates, conflicted. “I don’t know if I should.”

“Why?” you ask, clearly confused.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave,” he answers and you smile.

“Then stay,” you shrug, “at least for breakfast.” 

Without waiting for him to respond, you turn and head for the front door of the building. It means you miss the way he freezes in place, but you can guess at that by how long it takes before he catches up to you. He’s unusually quiet and still beside you as you go up the elevator and then behind you as you unlock the door. 

“I’m gonna go change,” you announce after you drop your keys by the door. You look back at Joshua, appreciating him in the tuxedo one last time. “I’ve got some clothes in the spare room that should fit. They’re Jeonghan’s ” 

You take the opportunity to breathe for a second, to let it settle in that you asked Joshua to come in with you and stay the night. Then, you set about changing out of your dress. Carefully clean your face free of the make-up. Brush through your hair and twist it back off of your face. Once you’re in comfy clothes and bare faced, you head back out into the living room. It’s odd that you don’t even feel self-conscious about Joshua seeing you like this, you’re instantly comfortable. 

Joshua’s back is to you in the kitchen. When he turns around, you see that he’s put together a little platter of snacks. You also were right, the t-shirt and shorts he picked out seem to fit him well. Jeonghan is a little slighter than Joshua, but he wears most of his clothes on the baggier side. 

“Thanks for the clothes,” he says when you both meet on the couch. “I was worried when you said you had spare clothes they were gonna be from an ex or Johnny or something.” 

Your laugh is sudden and clearly catches Joshua off guard. “I wouldn’t have kept any of Johnny’s clothes. I gave them all to charity.” 

“I’m sure he was thrilled with that,” Joshua laughs.

“They made a killing reselling them,” you laugh in response. “Wanna watch something?”

“Sure, you pick,” he says.

You start clicking through your saved list to find something that the two of you can watch. Once you settle on something, Joshua motions you over. Even if you want to pretend you’re considering it, you can’t. Every part of you wants to be close to him. When you slide over, he pulls you in tighter to his body and you fit like you always belonged there with him. 

If you thought he was physically affectionate when he was pretending, it’s nothing compared to now that he knows you’re both in this. He has one hand running along your arm or the other along your thigh. Sometimes he reaches out to take one of your hands. Other times he presses kisses into your hair. It’s pretty clear right away that he’s not paying much attention to the show. 

If you’re being honest, you’re not really either.

Everything is distracting. The way his fingers on the bare skin of your arm raises goosebumps. The way his kiss in your hair makes your eyes close in appreciation. The way he squeezes your thigh and short circuits your brain. 

You can’t help it. You turn your head so that you can look at him. He caresses your cheek, so gentle. Runs his thumb across your lip. You’re holding your breath, just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When you feel like you’re going to go a little bit insane, his hand moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in. It’s exactly like the first kiss before the wedding. At least, at first. It’s gentle, but full of so much desire. It’s also slow, like there’s no rush to any of it.

The position is really uncomfortable, though. You shift your legs so they’re draped over one of Joshua’s. He doesn’t miss a beat. It just allows him to pull you closer. There’s something incredibly intimate in kissing him like this. There’s this weird contrast of desire and comfort. It’s heated, but also a little lazy. Like you have all the time in the world. Which you do, you think, now that you’re being honest about your feelings.  When Joshua pulls back from the kiss, you chase his lips for a second before realizing that he’s pulled away. The way he looks at you nearly melts you into the couch.

“I don’t want to assume where this is headed, but maybe we should take it to the bedroom?” he asks. It’s cute, the way he’s a little shy. Like you didn’t invite him in to spend the night. Yeah, you’re in way over your head. At least it seems like he might be too. 

You pull your legs back so that you can stand up. His eyes track your movements as you reach your hand back to him. He accepts it without a word and lets you lead him to the bedroom. Even if he’s seen your bedroom before, this feels different. You’re waiting for him to look around, but his eyes are glued on you. Joshua even waits for you to lead him all the way to the bed, so you direct him to sit on the edge. 

Once Joshua is seated, you step between his legs and tilt your head down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you so that he can pull you against him. There’s barely any space between you. It sends a little bit of a shiver as his hands run up your back and back down. The touch is gentle and caring. Like he’s trying to put everything he feels into it. Something about it just makes you feel so insanely safe. 

He’s the one to break the kiss again, but this time it’s to move back onto the bed and grab your hand to pull you along with him. It’s easy to just follow suit and get comfortable laying next to him, bodies facing each other. The kissing picks up when your lips meet again. Joshua kisses you breathless with a passion you’re eager to explore. One of his hands rests on your hip, casually sliding beneath your shirt and caressing up your side. You press your body further into his and capture his moan with a kiss. It feels like you’re a bit drunk off each other.

When Joshua’s hand moves back down, you take the chance to throw your leg over his hip, allowing you to press further into him and feel how this is turning him on. Part of you knows that he’s still waiting for you to set the pace. Or that he wants things to be a little slower. So, you help him out and roll the two of you over so that you’re straddled on top of him. Putting his hands on your hips, you lean over to kiss him again. In this position, you can also grind into his lap. You delight in how he’s already getting hard beneath you, enjoy the way his hands grip the soft flesh of your hips.

He pulls back and looks at you with blown pupils. “Baby, please don’t tease me.” 

“No silly pet name?” you tease him. 

“Not when you’re getting me this turned on like a horny teenager,” he whines. 

“You mean like this?” you ask, injecting as much innocence as you can when you slowly drag your clothed pussy across his dick again. 

Joshua throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and grips you tighter. “Yes.” 

“So you don’t like it?” you ask, grinding a little more. 

“Fuck,” he hisses out. And somehow that’s the thing that almost breaks you. Why is that one swear so hot on his lips? 

Without saying anything, you sit up a little bit, still making sure you’re straddling Joshua, so that you can pull his shirt off him. Your eyes go wide because you’ve never seen him shirtless. You’ve seen him in well fitted suits or shirts, but this is entirely different. His chest looks like it was sculpted by an artist. All your attention is on your fingers running along his chest and you don’t see the way it makes him a little shy. 

His hands reach for your own shirt, playing with the hem like he’s asking permission. So, you move his hands aside and pull it over your head, leaving your skin bare as well. You watch him drink you in, feeling almost empowered by the desire you see in his eyes. He pulls you back towards him so that he can get one of your breasts into his mouth. The way he teases your nipple with his tongue has you clenching around nothing. You can feel how wet it’s making you and try your best not to squirm when he moves from one breast to the other. 

“I need you,” you utter. 

“I need you, too,” he says against your skin. His hips buck up into you almost involuntarily. 

You slide off of him and pull your shorts down and he gasps that you don’t have any underwear on. It isn’t like you were expecting anything, you just wanted to be prepared. While he’s still a little drunk on the sight of you fully naked, you help him discard the rest of his clothing. The sight of his cock springing free, precum leaking out, has you wanting to get your mouth on him. 

But, you’re realizing, what you really want is to feel him inside you. After so much tension and wondering, you just want to have this moment together. You want to be as close as two people can possibly get. You want all the intimacy and to be able to see his face. It’s this thought that pushes you back to the bed to lay with him. 

Joshua repositions and runs a hand down your body. Lets his fingers run along your thighs and tease their way up to gather some of your wetness. Your eyes close as he runs a finger up your slit. It’s such a little amount of contact and it makes you moan anyway. 

“Damn, are you this wet just for me?” he asks and presses a kiss into the first bit of your skin he can reach.

“I want to feel you,” you admit. Joshua makes you press a finger into your pussy, but you stop him. Confusion takes over his features.

“I thought…do you not want this?” he asks. 

“I do, but I want…I want all of you,” you admit. “I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want to be completely ruined by you. I want to come together.” 

“Shit,” he hisses, hand stilling against your body. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“I want to taste you soon,” he says, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.

The thought of him between your legs makes you shiver. It’s almost enough to forget that you want this first time to be together. “Deal.” 

“Do you have condoms? I wasn’t exactly expecting…” he says, trailing off.

“That drawer,” you say and point. 

He rolls himself off of the bed to open the drawer. You’re not sure why you expect his hands to be a little unsteady when he rips open the wrapper and rolls it onto himself, but he’s so calm. Maybe it’s just you that’s a little nervous. At least, that’s what you think until you catch the look on his face. It has to be the same as yours, naked want mixed with a little bit of uncertainty. Everything else has been so easy with you, what if this is where it goes wrong? 

“Just lay back,” he urges you, voice calming any lingering nerves. His voice drops to a whisper, like the next statement is just for him. “You’re so beautiful, every single inch of you.” 

It makes your heart constrict in a way that you’re not really prepared for. It would be nice if your feelings could stop flooding in all at once like a dam breaking. It’s overwhelming. You do as he says, though, and lean back against the pillow. Joshua gently spreads your legs apart and takes another moment to appreciate you. He can’t seem to help himself from running a finger along your entrance. 

Even though he would fully be within his rights to tease you, he doesn’t. He lines himself up at your entrance and looks to you for final confirmation. All you can manage is a nod. You know he wants to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. So, he accepts the nods and slowly presses into you.

“Fuck,” you hiss as you adjust to him. 

“Are you okay?” he worries.

“Feels good,” you say with a slight whine. “It’s just been a bit.” 

He presses the rest of the way into you and then stills so you can get used to him. It’s really overwhelming. Not just because you’re finally feeling him inside of you. More so because he’s looking at you with more adoration than you’ve ever felt in your life. Like this is it for him. Like you’re it for him. It’s too early to be thinking of love, but you really don’t know if anyone has ever loved you so completely. You think he’s probably it for you too. 

Once he finally starts to move, you know it’s going to be over entirely too fast. He starts with slow thrusts, testing what you want. You dig your fingers into his arms as a way to ground yourself. To anchor yourself to him and in the moment. When he picks up the pace, your mind goes entirely blank. It’s just the right speed. While you love the hard and fast fucking, there’s something so much more intimate about this kind of in between speed. 

“God you feel so good,” he whines as he snaps into you again. “So tight and perfect.” 

“You’re so - oh my god,” you moan out, unable to finish the sentence as he hits you just right. 

Joshua moves one of your legs so that it’s over his shoulder and presses further into you, hitting deeper than you were prepared for.

“Fuck, Joshua, holy shit,” you scream out. 

“Love the sound of my name on your lips,” he manages as his thrusts pick up pace. 

You want to respond that you love saying it, want to say anything, but the thrusts are entirely too much. As if it wasn’t already too much, Joshua adjusts again so that he can press his thumb against your clit. He rubs circles in time with his thrusts and you think that you might see stars. You throw your head back, eyes pressed shut.

“Look at me, baby. I wanna see you when you come,” he urges, his own voice sounding ragged. 

Despite wanting to focus on the pressure building between you, you do as he asks. Your eyes meet his and it’s that look that makes that coil snap. You’re coming hard and digging your fingers into whatever you can find to release some of the tension in your body. This might be the best orgasm you’ve had. 

When you come back to this plane, Joshua has stilled inside of you. One of his hands gently caresses your face as he mumbles quiet praises. It’s so impossibly tender.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you can move,” you assure him.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbles. 

His pace now picks up to something fast and hard with one of his large hands anchoring your thigh to his body. Your hands grip any part of his body that they can reach and you relish the way he hisses when your nails drag patterns down his skin. Marking him so that he belongs to you. Just as you belong so completely to him. 

It seems impossible but you can feel the tension building low in your stomach again. His thrusts are so hard that you feel like his cock might split you open and something about it just works for you. You hadn’t thought anything about him would translate to this kind of hard and fast sex, but it’s somehow better than you could have imagined. With him so focused on chasing his own high, you rub circles on your clit to bring yourself over the edge again. You tumble over the edge for a second time just as Joshua’s thrusts get erratic. You do your best to take over the rhythm before slowing down. 

Joshua collapses on top of you, cock still buried in your pussy, and sighs. His weight on top of you feels like the best security you’ve ever had. Your hands find their way into his hair, gently stroking and scratching his scalp. As he comes back around, he presses his head further into your hand. 

“Hey,” you say when he looks up at you.

“You’re perfect,” he responds and you can’t keep the smile off your face. 

“You were pretty perfect yourself,” you say. 

“Am I too heavy, I could…” he starts and you pull him tighter against you.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. 

He doesn’t say anything, just nuzzles his face into your neck. But, you know that you can’t stay like this forever. So you don’t protest when he gently pulls himself up and gets out of the bed. You’re right behind him, leading him into the bathroom so that you can get both of you cleaned up. 

After getting cleaned up, dressed, and doing your respective night time routines, you and Joshua are settled back into your bed (on top of a fresh set of sheets). Although you’ve never been much for falling asleep cuddling, you can’t imagine leaving any space between you and him. When he wraps himself around you, all you can do is smile and settle deeper into his perfect chest. Honestly, every inch of this man is perfect and you’d be annoyed if you weren’t so helplessly attached to him. 

And it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. You wake up with his chest pressed into your back and his arm still wrapped around you. It sounds like he’s still asleep based on his breathing and so you’re just considering slipping out of the bed. He moves in his sleep and pulls you tighter against him, making you feel that he’s semi-hard again. You press back against him, almost testing if he’s really asleep. 

He’s not. 

Joshua’s hand, already against the skin of your stomach and underneath your shirt, moves further up to your breast. His hand squeezes your breast and then he brushes his thumb over your nipple. Your body responds to his touch embarrassingly fast, which only seems to spur him on. He’s got your nipple between his fingers before you press back into him again, wiggling your ass against his dick without pretending you’re doing otherwise.

“Good morning beautiful,” Joshua says in a raspy voice into your ear. 

The warmth of his breath along with the pressure of him rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger has you suppressing a moan. In the quiet of the morning, he hears it anyway. He removes his hand from your breast and you want to pout at the loss of contact. That is, until his hand works down between your legs, roughly grabbing hold of your pussy through your shorts. He runs his middle finger through your folds, likely feeling the way your shorts are getting soaked through already. 

“Feels like someone might have woken up ready,” he says into your ear, voice sinfully low. His finger is still slowly teasing you through the damn material of your shorts. Somehow that makes it feel hotter. 

“I wonder why,” you retort, undermined by the way you squirm under his touch. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks and stops his movements. 

Your hand immediately moves to his. To guide him back to your cunt. “Please don’t. Want to see what those hands can do.” 

His mouth is still by your ear, so you hear the dark chuckle and feel the air tickle you. He moves your hand aside along with your shorts as he slips his hand inside the fabric. His middle finger resumes the previous pattern almost lazily. You’re about to ask him to stop teasing you when he presses a finger inside you suddenly.

“Fuck,” you nearly scream. 

“Is someone a little sensitive?” he teases. He’s a fucking demon and you would gladly sell your soul so he didn’t stop. 

The way he pumps his finger inside of you is entirely too slow. But, when you try to meet his rhythm, he stops. Just when you think you might actually die, he inserts a second finger. It makes your back arch, pressing your ass further against his now very hard cock. He hisses and pulls his fingers out from you. As you’re turning over to adjust your position, you see him insert his fingers into his mouth. Holy shit. He really is the hottest man you’ve ever met. 

Instead of letting you carry on in any way, he pushes himself up and repositions. You’re not really sure what he’s doing until he reaches for your shorts to pull them off. His focus is on you, silently asking for permission again. All you can do is nod. 

“Told you that I wanted to taste you,” he reminds you once your shorts are off. 

“Are you sure…” you start to ask before he cuts you off.

His head snaps up so he can meet your eyes. “I’ve been waiting to taste you for weeks.”

That shuts you up pretty effectively. What can you really say in response to that? Anything you might have said dies in your throat as he licks a messy stripe up your folds. He quickly settles, using one hand to keep you spread open for him, and licks into you. It’s all you can do to keep your eyes on him as his head bobs between your legs. You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him in place even though you know he’s not going anywhere. (And okay, maybe it’s more to ground yourself to him than anything else.) 

It shouldn’t be surprising that his attentiveness translates this well, but it is a little surprising how well he seems to know your body. The way he knows just when to switch from licking into your cunt to flicking his tongue over your clit. The way he knows when he needs to add a finger and then a second. The way he can tell everything your body needs before you even realize it. 

By the time he pulls himself up your body, he’s got you nearly panting from the build up. The kiss he presses to your lips is sloppy and a little desperate. Like you’re both totally fucked out. His fingers inside you keep a relentless pace as he hooks them, hitting that perfect spot. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you yell out, breaking the kiss. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire in an entirely different way from the night before. 

There’s nothing in the world but Joshua and the way he coaxes everything out of you. The way he has you squirting on his fingers. You’re not even sure if the praise coming out of your mouth makes any sense and you’re definitely not sure what he says in return. It’s all you can do just to appreciate the moment. 

You think that you’re going to get the chance to get your mouth around his cock now that he’s given you another mind blowing orgasm. But, by the time you get your breathing under control, you see that he’s rolling a condom from your drawer onto himself. He pulls you to the edge of the bed so that your legs are hanging off. It’s instantly stronger than you’re expecting from him and pulls a gasp from you. 

Without even thinking, your legs fall open. Joshua seems to have found a bottle of lube, too, and spreads it over his cock. When he lines himself up at your entrance, you expect him to ease in like the night before. He doesn’t. He snaps his full length inside of you in one motion and you’re so overstimulated, but it feels so good.

“Fuck me, Joshua, oh my fucking god,” you say and clench down around his dick. 

“Shit, that feels so good,” he hisses. 

“You feel so good,” you moan. 

“You have no idea,” he answers and starts thrusting. 

It’s a complete haze from the moment you hear his skin slap against your own. Every coherent thought leaves your head. There is nothing in the world but you and him and the way you make each other feel. He leans over your body, crowds your space. Steals sloppy, desperate kisses. Praises you constantly and in broken sentences. It’s all you can do just to hold on, so sore and so unable to stop.

Your hands grip into the sheets around you that are completely rumpled. You try everything to keep your eyes on Joshua’s face. Memorize the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Appreciate how totally gone he is because you’re sure it’s the same look you have. Delight in the way his eyes get even wider when you clench your pussy around him. 

It feels a little like he’s using your body to chase his own high, except there’s total comfort in that. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do. All you want is for him to get that release, especially since you haven’t been able to get your mouth on his cock yet. 

“Harder Joshua, please. I know you’re close,”  you beg and he obliges immediately. 

Even though you’re trying to meet the rhythm, you can’t. It’s too erratic and too unpredictable. So you pull him down to you again and kiss him. Slip your tongue inside his mouth and let the kisses get as sloppy as they need to. You feel how close he is and only kiss him harder. He breaks the kiss for the last few thrusts, groaning as he comes. You’re right there with him. 

(Later, he tells you that he’s never seen anyone hotter than you when you come. It would make you embarrassed in any other situation. But, you realize that you’ve never been with anyone that’s come close to him, so maybe it’s okay to accept his praise. Maybe you deserve it. Maybe this is the person that you’ve been waiting for.)

Now, you really do have to get up and clean up. As tempting as Joshua’s offer to shower together is, you don’t want it to turn into shower sex because that’s just not sexy (or practical). Neither one of you can seem to guarantee keeping their hands off the other. Instead, you tell him that he can use the shower in your guest room. It’s fully stocked and there are still more spare clothes in there. He insists that he should get some laundry going because you must be running out of clean sheets and you definitely made a mess. 

With Joshua cleaning up some around the house, you’re the first out of the shower and dressed. Pleasantly sore in the kind of way you really enjoy. You’re sitting on the couch and scrolling through your phone, trying to decide if you want to order food or just cook what you already have. Before you can make a decision, there’s a knock at the door. It’s impossible to guess who it could be. Even Jeonghan wouldn’t bother you like this. Although he’s been texting asking for an update after you told him you finally got your shit together, he wouldn’t show up like this. 

When you open the door, you’d give anything for it to just be Jeonghan. Instead, you see a face that you’ve been seeing entirely too much lately.

“What are you doing here, Johnny?” you ask with a heavy sigh. 

“I need to talk to you,” he says.

“Why?” you ask.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he pleads.

“Johnny, it’s the day after your wedding. What the fuck are you doing on my doorstep?” you ask, arms crossed. 

“Are you really going to make me do this in the hallway?” he asks. 

“I don’t see any reason to invite you inside,” you retort. 

“It’s about your, uh, boyfriend,” Johnny says a little awkwardly.

“Joshua?” you ask because that actually piques your interest a bit.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“No. What about Joshua?” you ask.

“This is really awkward. It would be better if we were sitting down…” Johnny starts.

“My little honeybun, is everything okay?” Joshua asks from inside the apartment. He must be out of the shower. 

“Babe, we talked about the pet names,” you remind him as he joins you at the door.

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t expecting him to be here,” Johnny says.

“I’m her boyfriend, so I know why I’m here. What are you doing here?” Joshua says without hiding any disdain.  "Are you really her boyfriend, though?" Johnny challenges. You stiffen almost imperceptibly, but Joshua must notice it because he wraps an arm around you protectively. "Of course I am. Why are you here?"

“I needed to talk to her,” Johnny says stiffly.

“About you, apparently,” you say with your eyes on Joshua. 

“Right, so can you give us a minute?” Johnny asks with his eyes on Joshua.

“No, he can’t. If you have something to say, just say it. Then you can leave us alone,” you say.

“Fine, if you really want it to be like this, fine,” Johnny says. “I knew he looked familiar when I saw him at your parents’ house with you. It just took me a while. I ran into him at a couple of functions back when I was in college and traveling all around for my dad.” 

“Okay? And? I’m sorry, but I’m not sure why I care,” you say even though you know where he’s going.

“He was always with older women,” Johnny presses. 

“Can you just make your point so we can get back to our day?” Joshua asks.

“Fine,” Johnny says, irritated. “The whispers were that women paid him to come to the events with them. That he was selling himself to them.” 

You actually snort at the phrasing. It takes you several seconds to compose yourself. You wonder what the point of Johnny doing this and if it’s his way of trying to keep you on the hook. Then you realize that you don’t really care what he does. For the first time in forever, you’re genuinely happy. 

“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Johnny says. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I know how Joshua helped pay for his education. And like why am I going to give him a hard time over seizing an opportunity? There’s nothing wrong with profiting off of someone wanting his company platonically,” you say. 

“You’re assuming he wasn’t also sleeping with them,” Johnny says, a little stubborn.

“No, I’m not assuming. I know he wasn’t because we’ve talked about this. He told me all about it without even being prompted. And unlike certain people in my life, I have absolutely no reason to doubt him. I know I can actually trust him,” you say. “It was also years before we met. We’ve all got history.”

“Nice dig,” he says. 

“It’s not a dig, Johnny. Not everything is a slight,” you say with a sigh. “Where does Gabby think you are?”

“What?” Johnny asks. 

“Your wife,” you clarify. “Where does she think you are?”

“Oh, well, that’s not important. I just said I had some errands to take care of,” Johnny says and you roll your eyes.

“We’re done, Johnny,” you say.

“Wait,” he says as you’re moving to shut the door. “I know I fucked up, but…”

“There’s no buts. Not anymore,” you say. “Maybe there was a point where I’d want to hear the buts and the apologies and all that. I’m happy now, though, and you can’t even tell your wife that you came to see your ex-fiancee the day after your wedding.” 

“It’s not like…” he starts and you start to close the door at the same time.

“It’s exactly like that. Goodbye, Johnny,” you say. 

The second you close the door, you feel a giant weight lifted off you. You just feel tired. It’s obvious that there aren’t any feelings there anymore, so him pretending he cares as a pretense to see you just feels irritating.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asks, eyes raking over you.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah, really. I think I knew when I saw him at my parents’ house that time you came over for dinner that I was completely over it,” you say. “I’m sorry he tried to bring something like that up or make it a big deal.” 

“I don’t care. It’s like you said, I did it and I’m not ashamed of that,” he says. “But, uh, I really wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” you ask.

“For defending me and for saying you trust me,” he says. It makes you a little shy for a second, so you look down.

“Oh, well, it’s not a big deal,” you say. 

Joshua closes the space and tilts your chin up to look at him. “It’s a huge deal to me. I know we started pretending, but trusting me means the absolute world.” 

“You make it easy,” you admit. 

That seems to render him a little speechless as well because all he does is pull you into him in the tightest hug he’s ever given you. Your body fits into his like a puzzle piece. Which sounds sappy, even if in your head, and you don’t actually care. It’s the safest and the happiest you’ve ever felt.

“What?” he asks when you pull away.

“Nothing, I just think this is going to work,” you say. 

Joshua smiles at you, that genuine smile he saves for when he’s at his happiest. “Yeah, I think so too.” 

i hope you enjoyed this fic! let me know your thoughts 💕

tag list: @aaniag, @gyuminusone, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @straykidswhoo789, @holistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @matchahyuck, @sonybear40, @kimseokgen, @hyneyedfiz, @miujunhui, @graybaeismytae, @hyucksrealm, @livixxn, @sharonxdevi, @coupsystar8, @sana-is-ms-rmty, @pyeonghongrie-main, @naajaeminsgf, @beomesbabe, @magicshop913, @deletingthekisses, @lissiesykes (strikethrough means i couldn't tag, check your settings!)

#joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua x y/n #joshua fic #joshua fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt x you #svt smut #svt fluff #svt angst #svthub #kvanity #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #ksmutsociety

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

I just realized I don't want gender neutral bathrooms and changing rooms just for gender reasons. I don't even want them just for practicality reasons, or just for economic reasons.

I want gender neutral hygiene spaces because, in my experience*, women who are bursting to get out of a sports bra and/or pee are wont to say unkind things and excuse it as "between us girls", and men do not wash properly if they think the bro code protects them.

#gender equality #equal rights #diversity #trans rights are human rights #chronic pain #chronic illness #*a shocking number of venues think having one bathroom per gender operational in an entire massive building is good enough #even if all the elevators are broken #this includes my own employer #and the one before that #on the upside #I've checked in five european countries #very very few people continue making a fuss about you being in the wrong bathroom if you say “I need to PEEEEEE” and keep walking #we're all human #we all get the urgency of the moment #including that one bathroom attendant in Amsterdam Main Station #thank you for not making me pee myself in public sir #yes I noticed the men's stalls were also all occupied #I've learned to work around such things on days my mobility is limited but thank you for your concern #that being said #transphobes have a lot of stuff they're weird about #them insisting we should strive to limit our options to piss-scented cave or grotto walls literally smeared with blood is just extra yikes #I don't care what silly fairy tales the cishets have dreamt up about you #you are in public and what you're doing is nasty #wipe your ass #think before you speak #meanwhile every unisex bathroom I've ever been to has been a haven of cleanliness and peace #every unisex changing room has been an oasis of pleasant conversation with a 70% reduction in noxious deodorant clouds #gender was invented by big bathroom to sell more bathrooms #and it made bathrooms worse for everyone

[dayas]

I’m so SICK Brooke was worried about Lucas and Peyton being a thing after he cheated on her with her best friend and then they go and kiss AGAIN and hide it from her AGAIN 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

And to juxtapose it with them (Brooke and Lucas) “learning to trust each other again” and all through that time intertwining Lucas and Peyton moments like. Be fr 😭💀 It could have worked better narratively (imo) if they would have separated them but by doing this it felt (to me personally!) that Brooke and Lucas were never that serious to begin with because their growth was always one step forward and three steps back.

#sumn about doing the baddest bitch on the show wrong don’t sit right w/ me #especially with how they never let brooke and lucas stand on their own literally every other episode they had lucas and peyton like… #respectfully brucas never stood a chance it was so unserious #and to have peyton go lucas-jake-pete-jake-lucas like 😭😭😭😭😭😭 #NOT TO MENTION: all they literally had to do was tell the truth. i get peyton thought she was going to die but AFTER? #she AND lucas had all the time in the world to tell brooke and neither of them said shit #i can’t blame her for not trusting them because they literally did the same shit twice 💀🤡 #anyways it just got on my nerves that brooke and lucas could never have their own moment without peyton coming up and needing lucas #i think they set lucas and peyton up to be soulmates which is fine but they didn’t have to throw brooke through hoops to do it #OR make her and lucas the ‘even though we aren’t technically perfectly suited I still choose you and i keep choosing you’ couple #anyways free brooke PLEASE abeg let peyton continue her development and lucas develop further and THEN bring leyton thx #somebody tell me does brooke actually get her happily ever after and prince charming like she deserves though AT LEAST TELL ME YES OR NO #BLINK TWICE I’LL TAKE ANYTHING #brooke davis #brucas #one tree hill #oth #k watches #now do i agree with brooke being all controlling? no. but i understand why she didn’t want them together at least in the beginning. #plus she said that they went days without meaningful conversations but every conversation he has with peyton is meaningful. #even when brooke was going through it lucas was with peyton #brucas was just so unserious 😭 in theory they made sense but my point is they didn’t have to do her like that to set up leyton endgame #lucas scott #peyton sawyer #to be clear this is NOT anti leyton but it IS pro brooke #k chats

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ‘cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn’t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

#art by: @yamada_souko (twt) #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk smut

[jello-chennie]

✧ todoroki who is completely in love w his gf!

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

todoroki shouto who, once you get together, cant seem to hide a single bit of the love he holds in his heart for you

todoroki who absolutely bleeds affection for you

he grew up in what was, obviously, a very unaffectionate household, so once he gets a taste of pure, loving affection from someone, he cant seem to hold himself back

and tbh, he doesn't really catch onto very many social cues or norms, so it's not like he really cares to hold himself back

so pda is on the table, all the time

you could be sat at a table, in the middle of a conversation with your friends, and shouto will be passing by

he will proceed to lean over the back of your chair and press two or three loving kisses onto various parts of your face, and then one final one onto your lips, and will continue on his way without a single word uttered to you or your friends

bc realistically, how could he just pass you by and not kiss you?

shouto who always has to sit next to you, where ever the two of you are, and needs to have a hand on you at all times

will absentmindedly play with your hair if you can't give your full attention

is your hype man 100%

your opinions are his opinions

when you're telling him a story or complaining about something, you're always in the right in his eyes

even when you're clearly in the wrong, you're right

"yeah and she pissed me off so much that i literally just rear ended her car smh"

"no that's actually her fault, she should've been driving faster"

shouto spends a lot of time watching you, and taking in your features

he loves you sm and could spend all day looking at you

has repeatedly gotten himself into trouble bc he was looking at you, or distracted by the thought of you will doing something important on the job

he's a smart boy, and that transfers over into your relationship, bc he can memorize every little or big detail about yourself as soon as you tell him

probably keeps track of ur cycle in his head as soon as u mention having cramps (if ur afab)

if you have curly hair, he is adamant about having you teach him how you take care of your hair so he can do it for you

he really really really loves the intimacy of sitting you on a chair and tipping ur head back into the sink so he can wash your hair for you, and sneaking in lingering kisses throughout

later into the relationship, he finds himself mirroring your little habits and taking little bits of your personality

if you haven't been able to spend time together at all on a particular day, once he can finally steal you away, even just for a few moments in a semi private area (for your sake, bc you're always getting so flustered whenever he shows you a lot of affection, which he doesn't get at all why you're embarrassed), he will wrap his arms around you, and just hold you as tight as he can with his head tucked into your hair

says he's "recharging"

if you've both been busy for a while, and this is your first moment together in days, he will insists he needs to be "closer" to you to properly recharge

wants to feel your skin on his

wants be inside you (yes he would do it in semi public, he's a little desperate for you)

and you can't deny him, bc tbqh you need to recharge too

you're just as smitten w him as he is w you

#drabbles #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #smut #bnha smut #todoroki x reader smut #todoroki shouto x reader smut #todoroki shoto x reader smut

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere werewolf #werewolf x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster romance #yandere headcanons #male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #monster smut #monster boyfriend

[halfvalid]

Hiii! If its no trouble could I have a zoro and reader fic with the one bed trope? The others know about their crushes on each other so they force each other to share a room? Anyway they end up cuddling and its all cute (the others will tease them forever about it lol)?? Thankss

intertwined ribbons

ABOUT

alternate title: opla zoro makes my hated tropes less hated

rating: general audiences/teen & up

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!nami | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: unbeknownst to you, your crush on zoro is reciprocated. the rest of the straw hats take it upon themselves to get you together by locking you in his bedroom overnight.

tags: strawhat!reader, only one bed, forced proximity, confessions, no use of 'y/n', nami is a true instigator, cuddling, soft zoro, humor

author's note: thank you so much for the request and i hope it meets your expectations!! fun fact i actually used to hate the 'only one bed' trope, so i decided to challenge myself in writing this. and i think it's one of my fave tropes now lol

(you have an inner spirit that helps you make decisions except it’s just nami.)

“I just think that maybe you should stop avoiding him,” Nami started. You bit your cheek, ignoring her as you tied up the last of the ship’s rigging into a careful knot. Nami had been going on for the past few minutes, and you’d zoned out exactly three seconds in, when the name Zoro had first been spoken. Because of this reason you weren’t really listening, so you blinked up at her in confusion. 

“Sorry? Who am I avoiding?” 

“You’re impossible,” Nami grumbled. “And you know exactly who I’m talking about.” Which, well, fair. The math added up: you heard the word Zoro, you stopped listening, Nami continued talking until she realized you’d stopped listening. “Especially since you’re, you know—” she gave you another look, eyes rolling over to stare dead into yours— “Avoiding him.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said innocently. Nami sighed, leaning over to tug the rope dangling from your hands out of your grip. You tried to reach back for it, but she didn’t let you. “Hey!” 

“Yes, you do. Face it. You’re avoiding Zoro.” 

You made a face at her. “I think there are ropes on the foredeck that I can attend to.” 

“No, there aren’t,” Nami answered. “Now stop changing the subject. There’s this wild concept called communication. It works wonders.” 

“Says you,” you muttered, though your arms crossed defensively across your chest. You noticed the action after a split-second and unwound your arms with a scowl. “Look, I just don’t see the point. And I haven’t been avoiding him.” 

You were, in fact, avoiding him. Ever since that dreadful night a week ago when Nami had gotten you tipsy and stuck her hand in your chest cavity fishing for secrets, you’d been avoiding him. The other girl was ridiculously good at prying truths out of you, and during the conversation, you’d accidentally spilled your crush on the Straw Hat crew’s resident swordsman. 

You’d managed to keep the secret for the months you’d been together, wherein the unfortunate feelings had developed, and you should’ve figured once somebody knew they wouldn’t leave you alone about it. Because Nami refused to talk about literally anything else. You’d expected this sort of behavior from Luffy, or maybe Sanji, but Nami? The world was more amatonormative than you'd thought. 

Nami cast you a look. “You’re blushing.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too. What’s the harm in talking to him?” Nami demanded, one hand on her hip as she stared you down. You gaped at her. 

“Um, literally everything? One, Zoro can’t talk about feelings or emotions for shit, so when he rejects me it’ll be in the most excruciating, offhand manner that will probably leave me at the bottom of a barrel of rum, two, after being rejected I’m going to have to leave the Straw Hats, three—”

Nami rolled her eyes, looking increasingly fed up with you. “For someone so obsessed with not telling our resident grass-headed swordsman about your feelings for him, you’re talking rather loudly.” 

You shut up, snapping your jaw closed with a glare. “Stop it,” you hissed. 

“Besides, who knows if he actually will reject you?” Nami turned to work on the next section of rigging, glancing over her shoulder at you. “You’re catastrophizing.” 

“I’m being realistic,” you snapped. “Okay, fine. He reciprocates my feelings. Then what? We date, we break up because all relationships eventually end, it becomes awkward, and—voila—I’ll have to leave the Straw Hats anyway. It’s a bad idea all around.” 

Nami just let out a huff of breath, the exhale laced with irritation. “Catastrophizing,” she repeated. 

“I am not—”

“Sure. Go help Sanji with dinner.” 

You gave her an exasperated look, but at this point Nami wasn’t paying attention anymore, so you stormed off into the underbelly of the Going Merry. Speak of the devil, apparently, because once you entered the kitchen you spotted not only Sanji occupying it but also Zoro. He was lounging at the table, swords strapped to his waist and a bottle of something he was nursing in hand. 

You averted your gaze from him, head running a million miles a minute. Had he noticed you’d been avoiding him? You’d tried to be furtive about it, but if Nami had noticed, maybe—

“Well, hello there,” Sanji called from where he was in the midst of dinner preparations. “Come to help?” 

“Nami sent me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think she’s appointed herself queen of the Going Merry.” 

“Oh, she did that long ago,” Sanji chided. “You’re only noticing it now. Pick up a knife, then. I’d like some help dicing the carrots.” 

You stiffly moved over to the counter, ignoring Zoro as you went even as you felt his gaze following your figure. You picked up the first knife you found, positioning yourself in front of the cutting board to start dicing the vegetables already laid out for you. Abruptly, Zoro stood up. 

“Heading out,” he muttered. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” 

With that, he left the room, leaving you and Sanji to exchange looks. “He’s moody today,” you said. 

“Probably ‘cause you’ve been avoiding him.” 

You felt the familiar pinprick of a blush starting to warm your cheeks. “You too?” 

“You’re rather obvious about it,” Sanji said with a raised eyebrow. “But enough of that.” Weirdly enough, he didn’t seem to question why. There was no way Nami had told him, so you were left confused, but no matter. The point was that for now, you were safe. 

The hour dipped to evening, and soon the moon was glowing in the sky, a shining beacon of white amidst the ocean of stars and shimmering sea. You suppressed a yawn, busing the dishes from dinner as the rest of the crew got up from their respective seats to dissolve to their own rooms. Zoro had already retired for the night—if you were avoiding him, he seemed to be doing the exact same—so at least you didn’t have that to worry about. 

“Ah, wait,” Nami said, after you’d finished washing the dishes and was ready to head out. “Zoro wants to talk to you.” 

You jolted, glancing nervously around you before grabbing her wrist. “What did you do?” you hissed. Nami just laughed. 

“Calm down. I didn’t do anything.” Off your glare, she relented. “I promise. And I swear it’s not about feelings or emotions or whatever. Even though it’s obvious you’re avoiding him, you know Zoro wouldn’t say anything.” 

You were still suspicious, but you dropped your hand. “What, then?” 

Nami shrugged, tilting her chin up just so. “I guess you’re going to have to find out.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you muttered. There was that look in her eye, the one she got whenever she was thinking of something truly devious. Still, you couldn’t figure out what she was up to, so— “Fine, I’ll go to his room. Walk me.” 

Nami rolled her eyes, but she fell into step with you as you made your way across the ship. “You should bring it up to him, you know,” she started, but silenced after your sharp glare. “Okay, okay. I get the point. I’ll stop bothering you about it.” 

You stopped by the mouth of Zoro’s door. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes, really,” Nami said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ll leave you alone about Mr. Prince Charming over there. Knock.” 

“You can't call him Mr. Prince Charming,” you said, though you did knock. “Prince’ is already a title.” 

Nami gave you a look. “Okay, smart-ass.” 

The door creaked open before you could give your response, and you turned, heart pounding in your throat as Zoro stared down at you. His arm was propped up by the open doorway, the other hand still clutching the doorknob. “What.” 

“Um, Nami said that you wanted to talk—” you swiveled your head towards the other girl, but before you could finish your sentence, Nami was raising up your arm and unceremoniously shoving you into the room. 

You shrieked in surprise as you fell into Zoro’s figure, stumbling into him and causing him to lose his balance. Your head shot up in offense, only to see the gleam of a golden padlock in Nami’s hand before she was yanking the door closed.

A dull click echoed through the room. The only thing you could hear for a few seconds was your own heavy breathing and the sound of Zoro gathering himself.

“Did she just—” You gaped at the closed door. “Lock us in?” 

Zoro swiftly pushed past you, jiggling the doorknob for a few moments before giving up. Sure enough, Nami had sealed it with the padlock from the outside, so there was no possibility of either of you getting out of the room. You could vaguely hear sounds from the outside—dull thuds and scrapes—and watched as Zoro started banging on the door. 

“Nami,” he called, voice dangerously low. “Let us out.” 

“Sorry, Zoro!” Your jaw practically unhinged from your skull once you heard your captain’s familiar voice, all bright and cheerful like always. “We’re putting barrels in front of the door, so don’t even try breaking it down. Have a good night!” 

“Luffy? What are you—” Zoro’s knocking quickened in pace, his voice getting increasingly louder. There was no response from outside, though you could hear snickers that sounded suspiciously like Usopp. What was going on? 

You kicked into action, joining Zoro by the door and trying the door handle again. “Nami!” you yelled. 

Nami’s soft laugh came from outside. “Sorry!” she called. “We’ll let you out in the morning.”

You gaped at the door, only aware of Zoro’s gaze sliding down to you as you dropped your hand from the doorknob. There were some more tigers from outside, and then receding footsteps. Zoro tried knocking one last time, but it was evident that the rest of the crew had all but abandoned you. 

“Okay,” Zoro muttered, moving away from the door. “I need a drink.” 

You watched him move across the room, picking up a glass from his bedside table that was only slightly full. He knocked it back in one swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. “Um, what now?” you asked uncomfortably. 

“Nothing. Whatever,” Zoro said, turning to glance over at you. After a moment’s thought, you noticed that he refused to look you in his eye—his gaze was firmly trained at a spot beside your head. He turned away, stripping off his sword scabbard and setting them on the floor. 

You glanced around nervously. Zoro’s room wasn’t that different from yours, really—less decorated, but the constitution was the same. There was the bed, a wardrobe, a desk with various paraphernalia across it, and a little couch in the corner too. “You can look through the closet for something to sleep in. I’ll take the chair.” 

The words didn’t register at first, and you were left standing there, staring as Zoro kicked off his shoes and assumedly started getting ready to sleep. “Um, what?” 

Zoro glanced over his shoulder. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye. “They’re not letting us out until morning,” he said slowly. “You can take the bed. Might as well sleep.” 

“It’s your room,” you started, crossing your arms. “I can sleep in the chair. I’m smaller than you, anyway, so I’ll fit it better.” 

Zoro regarded you with such a reproachful look you almost wanted to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Change.” With that, he turned around, leaving no room for discussion. You stared at him for a second before giving up, moving to his wardrobe and opening it up to search for something to sleep in. 

“So, uh, any ideas on why they stuck us in here?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. Whatever Nami thought locking you in a room with Zoro would achieve, you were stubbornly not going to let her be right. God, you were so going to kill her once you got out of there. 

“Nope,” Zoro said, with such a degree of finality you figured it wouldn’t be safe to question him further. “They’re just stupid.” 

“I mean, I feel like they would have a motive?” You rifled through his clothes, trying very hard to detach them from their owner. Wearing Zoro’s clothes was not something you wanted your mind to linger upon. Eventually you found a shirt of his that would undoubtedly be oversized on you, and you hastily changed into it, satisfied to find it draped well to your knees so you weren’t exposing too much skin. 

You stole a glance over your shoulder at Zoro, only to catch him in the action of peeling his shirt off. The stretch of the muscles in his back gleamed in the dim light of the room, and you tore your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “Um. Anything?” 

“Nope,” Zoro repeated. Carefully, you closed the wardrobe door, lingering in one spot with your hands clenched together. Once you heard him start moving again, you deemed it safe enough to turn towards the rest of the room. He’d changed into a loose tan shirt, and had settled back into the chair. 

“I said I’d take the chair,” you told him hotly. 

“Yeah, and I said no,” Zoro said, tone dismissive. He had his eyes closed, and you stared at him in disbelief. 

“I’m not sleeping in your bed,” you said, and then, just to emphasize your point, plopped down on the floor. Zoro cracked an eye open and stared down at you. He sighed. 

“Get up. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m not being stupid,” you said. “It’s your room. It’s your bed. You will sleep on it. If you’re not giving me the chair, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

Zoro let out a long sigh, closing both his eyes as if he was contemplating all his life decisions. “I’m not sleeping in the bed, you know,” he said. 

“Okay, so neither of us do.” 

Zoro’s brows creased, and he opened his eyes to glare down at you. “Seriously? At least take the chair, then. I’ll sleep on the flo—”

You gave him a sharp look. “Zoro.” 

“This conversation isn’t getting anywhere,” Zoro muttered, and finally got up from his chair. You glanced up at him expectantly. “What can I do to convince you to take the bed?” 

“Uh, nothing.” 

“We can work out a compromise,” Zoro said with a sigh. “I want you on it, and you want me on it, and neither of us are willing to take it ourselves.” He paused, brow creasing as an idea seemed to form in his head—one he didn’t seem to be a giant fan of, but an idea nonetheless. “How about.” His lips pursed, before he parted them again to finish his sentence. “How about we both take it?” 

It felt like someone had hit you square in the chest, air kicking out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for breath. Your windpipe was all raw, and you had to fight to tear any words out from your throat. “Ex—excuse me?” 

“It’s big enough,” Zoro said stiffly, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “I can take one side and you can take the other. Since you’re so dead-set on me sleeping on it.” 

“I—” You cut yourself off, suddenly far too aware of Zoro’s eyes fixed on you. Watching your every move. Oh, Nami was in for it now. How were you supposed to survive sleeping in the same bed as—you didn’t even want to think about it. 

“Well?” Zoro prompted. 

“Fine,” you agreed hastily, ducking your head lest Zoro catch any of the flush that was undoubtedly rising steadily up your cheeks. It was bad enough you were stuck in his bedroom and wearing his clothes—but this had quickly become your own personal circle of hell. “Good enough for me.” 

“Finally.” With that, Zoro climbed into bed, settling himself on the very edge of its side. Your throat had gone dry, and you stared at him for another second before hurriedly turning away to flick the lights off. You approached the other side of the bed with an extreme lack of enthusiasm, staring at the empty sheets like they were cackling up at you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Eventually you slid into the bed, busying yourself with arranging the blankets around your figure. Zoro’s breaths were steady and deep from beside you. You didn’t know what to do for a second, but then Zoro’s voice was cutting through the darkness. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

You jolted, then suppressed your sigh. “Have not.” 

“Yes, you have, and everyone knows it, and you’re not very subtle,” Zoro said, sounding almost bored as he rattled off the words. “Why.” 

“I haven’t—”

“Don’t.” 

You ran your tongue along your teeth, sucking at the valleys between them in annoyance. “It’s not important.” 

Zoro paused before speaking, like he was mulling over asking the question. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see. The sound did well enough to indicate the action to him, though—he scoffed, a low murmur from his chest that buzzed through your nerves. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re giving the rest of the crew what they want.” 

“They definitely did not lock you in here to talk about why you’re avoiding me,” Zoro muttered. Now it was your turn to scoff, because if only he knew. “Are you sure I didn’t do anything?" 

“Positive. It’s all me.” 

“Okay, so why?” Zoro prompted. You swallowed hard, trying to dodge around the subject. “Are you sure—”

“Please just stop talking,” you said, one hand reaching out to grip his arm as if the physical contact would make him shut up. There was a stagnant moment of silence, your breath catching as your brain caught up to your body. Your hand was on Zoro’s arm. Your hand was on Zoro’s bicep, and you were in his bed. 

You cleared your throat, a panicked choke bursting from your lungs. “Um.” Your eyes skittered sideways, and then you finally turned on your side to stare at him. To stare at where your hand was still clutched around his arm.

You could just barely make out the angle of his jaw in the darkness, but you could see it was clenched, the vein along his neck protruding just slightly. Hastily, you removed your hand, the skin of your fingers tingling like you could still feel him underneath the tips. “Sorry. Why—why are you so certain that you did something for me to avoid you?” 

There were a few moments of silence that ticked by, nothing but the rock of the ship interrupting it. Finally, Zoro spoke. “Because the reason they locked you in my room is because—”

“What? The reason they locked me in your room is because of me,” you said. Zoro finally moved from his position, head tilting to face yours so you were eye-to-eye. You swallowed. “Nami, um—Nami specifically forced me in here so I would… talk to you.” 

There was a question evident in Zoro’s voice. “About?” 

Your lips parted, and then closed again. “Um.” 

“We can just sleep, if you want,” Zoro muttered. 

“What if they don’t let us out in the morning because we haven’t talked, though?” you hissed. Zoro let out a low laugh. 

“You realize you’re giving them exactly what they want.” 

“So you’d be more comfortable if we just… fell asleep?” you asked. Zoro shrugged. Since you weren’t exactly averse to the idea of not confessing, you nodded in agreement, heart beating a million miles a second. “Okay. Fine by me.” 

You settled back into your pillow, but soon came to realize that, due to the fluttering butterflies in your stomach and the fact you were very aware of the man of your affections being barely a foot to your right, you could not sleep. Evidently Zoro felt the same way, because he kept shifting around under the blankets—your hands brushed against each other a few times before he jolted away like you’d burnt him. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t say anything in response. Somewhere in the back of your head, you could hear Nami hissing at you—I didn’t shove you in a room with Mr. Prince Charming just for you to not take advantage of the opportunity. You tried to get her out of your brain—it was a bad idea all around—but the words kept reverberating around in your mind until you found yourself suddenly speaking. “Zoro?” 

“Hm?” 

“Nami stuck me in here so I would tell you that, um—” 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro murmured, and you shivered, his voice sounding suddenly closer. You squirmed, your hand brushing against Zoro’s again, except this time it took him a delayed moment to drift away. He had gotten closer—or maybe that was you, instinctually leaning towards the dip in the middle of the bed when you’d been lost in thought. 

“The reason they locked me in here with you is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” you blurted, the words slurring together, consonants and syllables all in one rush. “Because I have them. Feelings, I mean.”

Zoro’s voice was very low when he spoke. “Excuse me?” 

You sat straight up, the blankets previously nestled around your chin falling to your waist. “I have feelings for you and that’s why everyone locked me in here.” 

“I—” Zoro coughed, and then coughed again, ridding his throat of whatever was preventing him from making full sentences. He slowly sat up, and you stared down at the blankets in your lap as you saw him rise to his full height beside you. And oh, this was it. He was about to reject you in the most excruciating, offhand manner that would probably leave you at the bottom of a barrel of rum. “That’s not possible.” 

“Why is that—” you decided to shut up instead of finishing your sentence, allowing him to speak instead. There was a soft burning starting at your skin, all red hot, and your brain buzzed, regret filling up your lungs and making it hard to breathe. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you heard his hand before you felt it. It slid across the bedsheets before finally resting beside yours, fingertips grazing against your knuckles. “Zoro?” you whispered. 

“The reason they locked you in here with me is so I would tell you about my feelings towards you,” Zoro said blankly. You blinked. It took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t just quoting you—that he hadn’t switched the pronouns accordingly. Your heart dropped. 

Your voice was very faint when you spoke. “What?” 

“I like you,” Zoro said carefully. Languidly, the words dripping off his tongue all saccharine-sweet like molasses, or honey. You shivered, your hand accidentally knocking against his, and he took the opportunity to draw it in closer, fingers pushing up your palm, just a hair’s breadth away from interlacing with yours. “Luffy unfortunately found out. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret and told the rest of the crew.” 

You gaped at him. “I like you,” you said, dumbfounded. You could feel yourself trembling, fingers sliding against Zoro’s hand with every shake. “Nami yanked it out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding you for the past week.” 

“I thought you were avoiding me because you found out I liked you,” Zoro muttered. His fingertips brushed against the pads of your hand, and you swallowed, mouth all dry. “So.” 

You tentatively lifted your gaze, finding Zoro’s eyes even amidst the darkness. They were shining, a slight glint from the moon coming in through the window reflecting along the shadows of his face. Carefully, his hand slid fully into yours, fingers lacing together, and it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. 

Zoro slid back down onto his back, tugging you along with him. You settled back on your pillow, using your other hand to pull the blankets back over your chest. For a full stagnant minute the two of you lay there, hands intertwined in the space between. 

You were the one who made the first move, then, thumb running up and down the length of his index finger. Zoro ran with the action, tugging your hand just slightly until you were leaning into the dip of the mattress, gravity pulling you closer to his body. 

He lifted your entwined hands, tugging you towards him until your back was pressed right to his chest. Then he settled your arms back down again, the back of his palm resting against your belly. 

You swallowed hard, able to hear the sound of your throat in the utter silence. Zoro exhaled, his breath softly brushing against your neck. “Good night,” you whispered. 

Zoro pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, a ghost of something that left tingles fluttering down your spine, the drunken butterflies in your stomach swaying at the action. “Good night,” he murmured, and your breath caught. 

He was warm, oh so warm, like a campfire with licks of flame that softened your hands in the dead of night. And even though you wanted to speak up, question when he’d started liking you, if he was lying or not—you were content to stay here in his arms and drift off to sleep.

So you did, settling back into his embrace with your head spinning and senses murmuring, all dizzy like you were caught in a dream. Eventually, your tiredness got the better of you, and you felt your senses fading as the world around you darkened to black. 

The two of you jolted awake to the knocking and the very unpleasant hum of Nami’s voice. “Rise and shine!” she called through the door, and you blinked, bleary eyes adjusting to the light as you suppressed your yawn. 

Zoro jolted up beside you, practically giving you whiplash as his arm was still comfortably around your waist. Your fingers tingled, and you realized that you’d fallen asleep with your hands laced together. 

“Nami,” you grumbled, about to rise out of bed before Zoro stopped you. You turned towards him in question, only to stop short as you registered the look in his eyes. His gaze was deep, piercing; those butterflies rose up again in your stomach, apparently awake after they’d passed out from their drunken stupor. You swallowed. “Hi?” 

“Hey,” he murmured. “They locked you in my room.” 

“I’m going to knock Nami over the head with a rowboat oar,” you said blandly, eyes flickering towards the door, which Nami was still pounding on. You vaguely heard shuffling sounds, like the crew were working to move the barrels they’d stuck in front of the door to free you from your prison. “You can have the rest of them, if you want.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Zoro agreed. “But first…” 

“First?” you prompted. 

Zoro brought your hands—still intertwined—to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss along your knuckles. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and awkward, like he wasn’t used to letting the words out of his mouth. He let your hands drift to his lap, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours.

A faint sigh escaped your lips when he finally kissed you. It wasn’t rough or hard; it was a soft press, like your hands had been just a few hours ago. There was a degree of finality to it; a held-in breath that’d exhaled from your lungs, one you hadn’t realized was building up that much pressure until you finally let it all go. 

The door flung open, and you jolted away, but Zoro tilted your head back towards him before you could. At the mouth of the room, Luffy had started screaming. “Aww,” Nami cooed. Behind her, Usopp and Sanji were gripping onto each other like they were watching a particularly engaging fight. 

A steady blush rose along your cheeks, but Zoro was absolutely shameless, the hand not held in yours raising up to give them the finger. “Get out of my room.”

“Told you it’d be okay,” Nami sing-songed, and then you really did break away from Zoro, picking up the object nearest to you and barrelling towards her. She shrieked, dodging out of the doorway as Zoro laughed from behind you.

“Wait!” she stopped you from whacking your pillow against her head, raising up her arms in defense. “I was right. I saw you two—” 

“Nami,” you started, dangerously low. “You locked me in his room.”

“Yeah, to help you!” she cried defensively, slowly taking backwards steps as you gained on her. “Come on. We can talk about this.” 

“Good luck,” Zoro called out from behind you—you turned around, catching his gaze. He had gotten up, leaning against the doorway and watching you with a sparkle of fondness in his eye. “You’ll need it.” 

You blew him a kiss, ignoring the long groan it pulled out of Luffy from beside Zoro in the hallway. And then you turned around. Nami had darted off, taking the time you’d been distracted to run off. “Oh no you don’t!” you yelled, and then lunged after her with Zoro laughing all the while. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing, you thought. But you were still going to beat Nami’s ass. 

© halfvalid 2023

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #opla zoro x reader #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #kiki writes!

[tojisbbg]

𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

❝you're exciting, boy, come find me; your eyes told me, "girl, come ride me".❞  

♡ geto suguru ♡

a/n: was scrolling through twitter and stumbled across yunonoai's new geto piece here. i love the roommates idea and decided to write a quick little smutfic for him ;)

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

content: roommate!geto suguru x fem!reader, modern au, smut, fluff/crack, not edited.

---

"yes, satoru." geto sighed, pressing his phone to his ear before raising his shoulder to hold it in place, one of his hands filled with grocery bags while the other dug inside his pocket to fish for the house keys.

"you're so rude, suguru. it's been so long since i've talked to you, i feel like i'm gonna die from lung cancer." gojo dramatically whined on the other side of the line, making geto roll his eyes.

"i just got home from work and we literally talked last night." he deadpanned, making gojo huff in discontent.

"that's still too long." the white haired man snickered.

"gay ass." geto mumbled under his breath, finally unlocking the door as he twisted the knob to enter.

"i have a girlfriend! unlike you. you're my bro, it's always bros before hoes." gojo poetically recited, half of his words flying out of geto's other ear as the man had a long day at work.

"surprised you got one before me." he yawned, slipping out of his sneakers to slip on his house slipper. geto distanced his phone away from his ear momentarily.

"y/n, i'm home." geto announced, but there was no response heard back from you.

"hater, you're just mad that my dick is better than yours. anyways, wanna grab dinner together? i need to tell you about what happened in my morning class today, i nearly busted my lungs out from laughing." gojo offered, already laughing midway through his sentence because he's a whole clown.

"some other time, i'm gonna cook dinner for y/n tonight." geto declined, walking inside the living room, tossing his keys on the sofa.

"feed her your dick instead."

"shut the fuck up."

"y'all didn't fuck yet?"

"hanging up, talk to you later." with that being said, geto could hear gojo about to protest, but he was quick to press the red button to end his conversation with the annoying man. he set the bags of groceries down on the counter, rubbing his temple in annoyance.

geto noticed how you weren't in the living room nor in the kitchen, where he usually finds you around this time. curiosity piques his attention, walking over to your room.

as he inched closer to your door, geto could hear soft whimpers and groans exiting your room. his eyebrows knitted in confusion... until he stood in front of your closed door.

"nghh~ feel so good, suguru."

"f-fuck, just like that!"

"ahhh~ need your cock inside my pussy, sugu."

"i-i'm gonna cum!! oh my go-god!"

geto's eyes widened at the mentioning of his name slipping out of your mouth in such a lewd manner. you were masturbating to the thought of him. he could feel heat creep up to his cheeks, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his mouth as he continued to hear your moans.

"shit." geto mumbled to himself, feeling his pants tighten as a tent now formed around his crotch area. he was so fucking hard just by hearing you whine for him like a bitch in heat.

eventually, your voice died down, red alarm signals going off inside his head. geto quickly left from his spot as quietly as he could, heading back inside the kitchen.

he had a silly little plan that he wanted to execute on you.

so, he continued on with taking out the groceries, as if he heard nothing; gathering all the things he needed to make a quick home-cooked dinner tonight. a little smirk painted over his lips, hearing your door creak open before hearing your footsteps.

geto looked up, meeting your eyes, as you were startled to see the man whose name you were moaning a few minutes ago appear in your shared kitchen. he gave you a small wave before going back to his work of chopping some veggies on the cutting board, some other things already sizzling in a pot next to him.

you quickly cleared your throat, offering him a nervous smile as you played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"o-oh, you're back home so soon, sugu." you stammered out, leaning over the counter as you watched him stir the pot, his broad back turned to you as his hair was wrapped into a neat bun.

"mhm, got off of work early today to get groceries." he responded, looking back at you as he took note of your flushed face and disheveled hair.

you looked like someone just fucked your entire existence out of you.

you chewed on your bottom lip as you began to overthink, trying to recall if you'd heard the main door open during your little private session. but, your mind was absolutely fucked out during that time, only being fogged by the dirty thoughts of geto plunging his cock inside of you instead of your pathetic fingers.

oh god... did he hear you?

the thought of him catching you moaning his name while pleasuring yourself created a huge wave of shame and embarrassment, colliding straight at you as you turned even more red. geto, who was peacefully cooking, could sense your panic as his smirk grew.

"i'll be in the living room." you quietly informed, dashing out of the kitchen where he was making a heavenly concoction, the aroma of different spices already welcoming your senses.

but, unfortunately, you had bigger things to worry about than the raging appetite in your stomach.

you sat on the couch, trying to knock some self-assurance into your anxious mind. you took in a deep breath, falling into your own train of thoughts.

surely, if geto were to hear you, he'd probably feel at least a little weird about it, right? like probably give you some weird stares, side eye you or like maybe not even talk to you???

yeah, you were freaking out.

you lightly smack your cheek, bringing yourself back. you convinced yourself that geto didn't hear you, he was still chopping veggies and loading the fridge when you walked out. this meant that he had to arrive after you were done.

besides, he was acting pretty normal with you.

you sunk into the couch, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you tried to shoo away your thoughts. you've been roommates with geto for about two years now, the both of you meeting in your organic chemistry class during the first year of college.

you were still living with your parents, while he was living with his best friend, gojo. however, you soon decided that it was time for you to break away from your parents' protective shell, wanting to experience true adulthood and independence.

and for geto... well, gojo was a handful to live with, in short.

so, you both met by fate, sitting next to each other in the painfully boring and difficult class. about a month passed and you guys grew pretty close to each other, frequently partnering up for experiments and mini projects; which were done primarily over his place since gojo was barely home after sunset.

you were apartment hunting during that time, which was so hard as the rent was outrageous, especially near campus. when geto heard your little rant about it, he offered to be your roommate so that the rent wouldn't be so burdensome on you.

of course, you agreed without hesitation because the man was so incredibly nice. geto was a gentleman, every single good trait and positive word that exists in the dictionary could be used to describe his personality.

needless to say, you were not disappointed. he was clean, organized and responsible. geto paid his rent on time, did the groceries on days where it was his turn and sometimes on your days as well when he sees you stressed out. he cooks dinner for you both frequently since your cooking is very limited, if not, takeout is always there as a solution.

geto made sure to kill any bug, big or small, that threatened you; especially in the summer heat when those fuckers slipped in through the window. he was your knight in shining armor, whacking them dead with his slipper.

not to mention that it's rewarding to see such a hot man in your house every day after a depressing eight hours of lecture plus work. there was no denying the fact that geto suguru was incredibly attractive, and he was extremely popular amongst the female students as well.

on really hot summer days, you'd see him in skimpy tight tank tops, the fabric hugging his slutty narrow waist while deliciously exposing his muscular arms. his beautiful luscious black hair resting a little below his shoulder.

oh, and of course, he smelled so fucking good.

a mix of coconut from the shampoo he uses along with the scent of expensive cologne and his body wash.

with all these factors coming into play, having a silly little crush on geto suguru was quite reasonable to you.

"you feeling sick, y/n? your face seems flushed." the sudden intrusion of geto's voice awoke you from your trance, looking up at him as the man stood in front of you. he looked down at you with a concerned look, the back of his hand coming up to touch your forehead.

"hm, no fever." he concluded, eyeing you for an answer.

"oh, it's 'cause i just woke up from a nap and it was super hot in my room." you lied, making him cock an eyebrow.

"hot? it's the middle of november." geto snorted, making you mentally wince because you were slowly getting caught in your lie.

"the heater was on blast in my room." you defended, making him cross his arms over his chest as he looked like he was thinking really hard.

"weird, could've sworn i made sure to lower the temperature on the thermostat before leaving this morning. oh well." he shrugged, deciding to not pick on you anymore as he took a seat on the sofa in front of you.

you let out a sigh of relief, thanking god that he dropped his interrogation with you. your eyes followed his body, watching him plop on the sofa as he leaned back, shifting his hips forward before manspreading.

holy.

fuck.

you ogled at the sight, shamelessly eye-fucking him as your mind began to mentally strip him. almost immediately, your eyes fell on his lap, seeing the prominent bulge in his sweats. of course, geto's eyes noticed your staring, biting back a grin as his plan was working.

"you know, it's not nice to stare, sweetheart." geto playfully snickered, the petname that was directed to you sent heat between your legs, making your thighs clench together.

fuck, he made you feel so hot and bothered.

"i-i.." your words were stuck in your throats as you met his piercing onyx colored eyes, watching him give you a half-lidded smirk.

"hm? can't hear you from there, why don't you come over here and tell me." he patted his thigh, inviting you to sit on his lap. your eyes were the size of two full moons as you never expected to experience this side of geto.

either way, who were you to decline this gorgeous man's invite?

so, without hesitation, you got up from your spot and walked over to him. the both of you locked eyes, with you now standing in between his legs. geto's arms laced around your waist, pulling you down on his lap as you placed your legs on either sides.

as you pressed down against his lower half, you felt something poke your ass, making you gasp. geto chuckled, moving your hair away from your neck, exposing the skin.

"gonna help me take care of that, y/n?" geto whispered, pressing open mouth kisses on your neck, making you whimper as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you grind your hips on his hard on, earning a groan from him.

you felt his tongue swipe against your skin before feeling his teeth digging in ever so lightly, sucking the flesh. you let out a shaky breath, feeling him kiss, suck and lick all over your neck.

"s-sugu.." you stutter out, biting your lower lip to contain a shameless moan that itched to leave your throat. geto pulled away, looking up at you with lust clouded eyes. his hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you towards his face as he crashed his lips against you.

geto could taste the sweetness of your fruity flavored lip balm, feeling his lips smoothly mold into yours. you sucked on his lower lips before giving it a soft lick, telepathically asking him to open his mouth, which he did. so, you shoved your tongue in his mouth, wet smooching sounds radiating off of you two.

he tasted like mint, so fresh and sweet. your hands cupped his face, angling your face in a way that you could kiss him deeper, his fingers dancing on your spine. you felt the wet muscle intertwine with yours, making you suck his tongue as you rubbed your clothed cunt against his bulge.

geto moaned in your mouth, the impact of your warm cunt against his painfully clothed cock sent waves of pleasure to his brain. you both soon pulled away, gasping for air as a string of saliva was connected to the both of your lips.

"can i help you with this?" you softly asked, pressing down on his cock once again, eliciting a gruff groan from him. geto looked at you, your eyes were practically pleading him, lashes innocently batting as you oh so politely asked him.

"of course you can, sweetheart." geto replied, making your heart jump to your throat as you eagerly slid out of his lap, now sitting on your knees in between his legs. with attentive eyes, he watched your hands tug down his sweats, which he helped you with.

it was adorable how impatient you were, so excited to have a taste of his cock. you've seen geto shirtless on multiple occasions, eyes always never failing to catch the deep v-lines that ran down the side of his body.

so, it meant that he definitely had a monstrously huge cock hiding in those tight calvin klein boxers.

you wasted no time in pulling down the waistband of his boxers, hand reaching in to grab his cock. however, as soon as you felt the sheer length and girth of it, unable to properly grasp it in your hand; you harshly gulped.

fuck, he was hung.

by the looks of your hesitation, geto's ego immediately jumped a whole tower up, leaning his head back against the sofa as he wrapped his arms behind his head.

you pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out and hitting his stomach, your eyes widening at the sight. he was huge and thick, standing no less than a good seven to eight inches in length. the tip of his cock was a cute blush color, leaking out so much precum as a single prominent vein ran on the underside of his cock.

you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it a few teasing pumps, making him grunt as the soft flesh of your palms did wonders on him. your thumb cheekily made it's way up to his tip, circling it as the pad of your thumb became coated with his precum.

geto jolted at this sudden action, looking down at you with an expression that was so beautiful and arousing.

"f-fuck, why don't you give it a little kiss, baby." he requested, making you hum as you pressed a feather-light kiss on his tip, feeling the small bead of the wet liquid on your lips. you smirked at how his chest heaved up and down at your teasing, your tongue licking a long stripe up his vein.

"stop teasing." geto groaned, getting a little impatient. you giggled at his words, placing the tip of his cock on your tongue before wrapping your lips around it. you sucked on it a little before shoving as much of his cock as you possibly could into your mouth.

"o-oh my god.." geto's eyes screwed shut as he felt the warm encasing of your mouth around him. you began to bob your head up and down his throbbing cock, pushing him down your throat, while your hands simultaneously worked to pleasure the inches that you couldn't fit.

"mmm, just like that— being such a good girl for me." he praised, a hand coming down to encourage your movements, pushing you deeper. you gagged a few times, but that seemed to only drive him off the edge, as every time your throat contorted or tightened, it deliciously squeezed his aching cock.

you could feel tears prick at your eyes, your hands fondling with his heavy balls, giving them gentle squeezes. geto's thighs began to ever so slightly shake, small curses and whimpers exiting his plump lips as the movement of your mouth and hands quickened.

"gonna let me cum down your throat? take all of it like a good girl." his hips began to desperately buck into your mouth, one of his hands gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he thrusted into your throat. you let him throat-fuck you, your nails digging into the flesh of his thick muscular thighs.

"shit." geto swore under his breath, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth as his vein pulsated. with the release of a guttural moan from his mouth, geto came hard and deep down your throat; as thick wads of white cum spurted out.

you made sure to swallow every single drop, licking his cock clean before giving his tip one last kiss as you pulled away. geto looked down at you while you looked up at him with a cock-drunk smile, making him smile.

his hand came down to your face, long and thick fingers wiping away your tears.

"made me feel so good, sweetheart. let me reward you, yeah?" geto sensually spoke, making your clit throb with arousal. he helped you up, once again placing you on his lap as he pulled you in for a needy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

geto's hands sneaked inside your shirt, caressing your sides as you shuddered in response to his touches. you tried to focus on the kiss, but you soon felt his hands creep up to your tits, giving them a squeeze through your bra.

"suguru!" you gasped against his lips, making him bite your lower lip.

"off." he commanded, tugging at the hem of your t-shirt. you obliged obediently, pulling it over your head before throwing it on the floor. with very skillful movements, geto unhooked your bra, removing them before having it join your t-shirt on the floor.

your tits deliciously spilled out, perky nipples which were swollen from the lack of attention. geto wasted no time in taking a mouthful of your tits, sucking on the hard bud as you let out a whimper. you pulled his head closer to your chest, grinding your pussy on his cock through your shorts.

geto gently rolled your nipple between his teeth before giving it a playful bite, making you shake in his hold. he sucked the mounds of fatty flesh, making sure to leave a copious amount of purplish marks on your skin.

suddenly, he placed a hand on your back before shifting to the side, gently laying you down on one of the cushions. geto pulled down your shorts, eyes coming into contact with the wet patch on your panties.

your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, averting your gaze from him, which made him laugh.

"eager are we?" he playfully threw at you, making you whine. not pushing it any further, geto soon pulled down your panties as well, a thin line of your arousal being attached to the fabric. he threw your shorts and panties to the floor before taking in the sight of your soaking wet cunt.

"fucking hell, sweetheart, you're dripping." he commented, making you clamp your thighs shut from how bashful his vulgar words made you feel. however, geto didn't appreciate you covering up, strong hands now on your thighs as he spread them apart.

"don't be greedy, y/n. let me see, baby." geto scolded, pressing a kiss on your inner thighs, which made you yelp.

he wasted no time in giving your clit a feather-light stroke, making your thighs twitch from the sudden stimulation. geto liked that reaction, now using his thumb and middle finger to spread your wet folds open. he had to gather some self-control to not shove his face into your cunt.

"so fucking pretty." he complimented, gawking at your puffy cunt and swollen clit, giving it away that you indeed played with yourself moments before. you were so wet for him, it was absolutely ridiculous, your hole clenching on nothing as it leaked more of your juices.

"do something, sugu. need you so bad." you begged, bucking your hips up to feel more of his fingers. he snickered at your actions, landing a wet slap on your clit, making you whimper.

"good girls get what they want. so, be a good girl and be patient while i admire you, 'kay?" geto shortly lectured, making you softly protest at his constant teasing, needing to feel some part of him on your body.

the man watched you squirm and softly grunt with a contented grin on his lips, seeing how your thighs threatened to close every few minutes from his light touches. however, geto wasn't that mean and he's practically been dreaming of this moment ever since he’s met you.

and after what he heard earlier today? oh no, baby, he's gonna make sure to memorize every detail of your pussy today.

geto slid his middle finger between your folds, slowly rubbing it up and down, the tip of his finger nudging your clit once he dragged his digit back up. your breath hitched, hands flying to the back of your head to grip the cushion.

"tch, that's all you're gonna give me? you weren't so shy about being vocal earlier." geto scoffed, making your eyes widen as you looked at him with a shocked expression. he smirked, rubbing your clit in a quickened circular motion, making your brain stop working as you completely forgot about what he just told you, eyes screwing shut as you choked out a moan.

"fuck, suguru!" you cried out his name, breathing heavy as geto continued to stimulate the sensitive bundle of nerves, his free hand coming up to pinch your nipples and squeeze your tits.

"mhm, there you go. but, i gotta hear more from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart." with that being said, geto dragged his finger down to your needy hole, prodding it open.

you felt him enter his middle finger, groaning as it was longer and thicker than yours. geto began to thrust his finger in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, watching you fidget. he soon added a second finger, the stretch of his thick digits was too much as it made all the wires in your brain fuse.

"nghh~, s-shit, feels so good!" you cried out, feeling him scissor his fingers back and forth into your wet cunt. he suddenly plunged in a third finger, making you choke on your moans as they began to rub your tight walls.

"yeah? taking my fingers so well." he whispered, moving his body up, slotting himself between your legs while his fingers never faltered. geto captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, while you whimpered against his lips.

he moved his head down, taking your tits in his mouth once again as he continued to thrust his fingers inside of you. you babbled random things, eyes rolling back as you felt the familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach. your walls clamped down on his fingers, making geto grunt at the sudden squeeze on his fingers.

"such a naughty girl, you are, y/n. playing with this pretty pussy of yours while moaning my name when i'm not around." geto's voice was laced with faux sympathy, the squelching wet sounds of your cunt was like music to his ears, encouraging him to plunge his digits deeper and faster; hitting your g-spot.

"hnghh, g-gonna cum!" you squealed, hands coming up to squeeze his biceps, eyes pooling with tears as you could feel your brain becoming rewired. his palm rubbed against your clit while his fingers abused your hole, completely fucking out your senses as your brain became mush.

your throat released the most pornographic moan ever, clenching onto his fingers as you came hard on them. geto could feel your hole twitch and pulsate, your creamy cum dripping down his fingers and down your inner thighs onto the sofa.

"better than these, right?" he teased, using his free hand to bring your fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on them. you nodded your head, not even comprehending what the fuck he just told you as you tried to calm down from your intense orgasm.

geto pulled his fingers out, making you wince as your hole felt empty. he shoved his cum soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean as you watched the lewd sight of him eating your cum.

"so sweet." geto grinned, seeing you pant and flush into a deep red.

"sugu... p-please, hmphh—" you were cutoff by the sudden kiss, his lips smooching yours pretty noisily, coating them with his spit.

"what you need, sweetheart?" he whispered against your lips, tugging them between his teeth.

"need your cock in me, please." you breathed heavily against his lips, looking up at him with pleading lust glowing eyes. geto smiled against your plump flesh, sitting up on the sofa before pulling you up along with him.

"help yourself then." geto gave you the cue, helping you straddle his lap once again. you sat your bare cunt right on top of his hard cock, as it slipped between your folds, the warm leaky tip brushing against your clit. a soft whimper left your lips, eyes looking down at the porn-worthy sight.

you realized that his t-shirt was still on, pouting as you tugged the hem of it. geto cocked an eyebrow, feeling the fabric being yanked.

"off." you blurted out, the same way he did when undressing you. this made geto laugh, looking at you with teasing, narrowed eyes as he stroked your cheeks.

"so demanding." he playfully sneered, pulling his shirt over his head before discarding it with the rest of the pile of your mixed clothes on the floor. you placed your shaky hands on his shoulders before tracing his defined collarbones.

you moved down to his chest, intentionally brushing over his nipples, which made him shudder from the sensitivity. curious eyes shamelessly roamed around his upper body, seeing the well-sculpted abs he had from working out multiple times a week.

"like what you see?" geto playfully asked, making you scoff.

"like what i see? i'm trying so hard to not eat you right now." you grumbled, attaching your lips back onto his, muffling out his chuckle. you teasingly pinched his nipples to evoke a reaction, and you weren't left disappointed as he jolted, whimpering in your mouth.

you slightly opened your eyes, seeing from the corner of your eyes how his face was turning red from embarrassment.

"you're so adorable, suguru." you giggled, making him tsk as he landed a tight slap on your ass, making you yelp.

"yeah? tell me that when i'm sending you to poundtown." he countered your words, making you roll your eyes with a snort at the comment.

"looking forward to it, sugu." you said in a flirty tone, sending a wink towards his way, making geto's heart thud against his chest. you dug your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin as you began to mark it with hickeys.

you could feel his pulse point throb, lightly grazing your teeth against it, making him let out a heavy breath.

"you little minx." he grunted, arms kneading your ass before giving it a few slaps as a punishment, making you moan. his actions made you pout, wanting payback.

you began to slide your hips back and forth on him, feeling his hard cock easily slide between your wet folds. you trembled in his hold, feeling the grip on your waist tighten as you did this a few more times. the lewd wet sound of his girthy cock rubbing your dripping cunt made you even more aroused, his tip bumping into your clit, making you whine.

"hmm, i could cum from this." you shamelessly admitted, grinding yourself harder on him, watching geto bite his lower lip to suppress a moan. this annoyed you as you wanted him to be vocal, pressing your lips on his before shoving your tongue in his mouth, swallowing his moans as you glided your sopping wet cunt over his throbbing cock.

"stop.. i wanna cum inside you." geto said in between his breaths, forcefully stopping your waist as soon as his tip rested on your hole. he looked at you with a dazed look, his large hand coming up to brush your hair away from your neck.

"gonna let me feel you, sweetheart? pretty please?" he said in a low voice, kissing your collarbones before moving up to your neck.

"y-yeah.." you stuttered out, no longer being able to handle this game of teasing anymore. you raised your hips a little, taking a hold of the shaft of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole.

you began to lower yourself on him, slowly entering his fat tip in, your eyes shutting tight as you winced in pain from the sting. geto held onto your waist as support, his fingers gently rubbing your sides.

"there you go, easy, baby." he encouraged you, words being chased by a gruff grunt as you managed to shove a third of his cock inside of you. you could feel your knees slightly shaking, breathing heavily as you gripped onto his shoulder tightly to support yourself.

"need some help?" he gently murmured against your neck, eyes peering up to see tears forming in your eyes as you struggled to take in his cock. you nodded your head, making him hum in acknowledgement. geto sneaked a hand between the both of your bodies, the pad of his thumb stroking your clit.

the sudden mix of the pleasure from stimulating your clit along with the stinging pain of his cock bullying into your hole made your body shake. geto could feel your hole start to relax a little, using the arm around your waist to gently push you down as he continued to play with your clit.

"t-too much, it's too much!" your breath hitched, feeling yourself sinking in a few more inches of his lengthy cock. his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking on the swollen bud, while his thumb continued to pleasure the tiny bundle of sensitive nerves between your legs.

"nghh~, f-fuck.." you let out a long moan, finally shoving in the last few inches of his cock, completely bottoming out. geto let out a guttural moan, throwing his head back on the sofa, as you both stayed like that for a minute.

"shit, baby, y-you're squeezing me so tight." geto choked out, while you tried to adjust to the stretch of his cock. you slouched your body forwards, hugging him tight as you craved for more skin-to-skin contact with him. geto happily accepted, firmly wrapping his arms around you as his hands stroked your back as you both breathed in each other's scent, molding into each other's body.

"feel so full, sugu, you're so big." you chuckled, laying your head on his shoulder as you pressed tender kisses on his jaw and chin. geto hummed, a proud grin painted on his lips as you stroked his ego.

"is that so?" he turned his head to the side, kissing your forehead. you began to slowly rock your hips, as geto progressed to shallow upward thrusts; the both of you letting out a blissful moan in sync.

you decided to completely lift yourself off of his, only his tip remaining inside you before slamming down on him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. geto looked at you with half-lidded eyes, jaw wide open, as he moaned shamelessly at the tight grip of your dripping cunt.

you adjusted to the size of him, beginning to bounce on his cock while holding onto his chest for support. geto squeezed your ass before giving it a spank, making you squeak.

"fuck, feels so good!" you cried out, feeling your knees burn as your hips went up and down on his dick, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time you pushed down. geto pulled you in closer, watching your tits bounce in front of him before capturing one of them in his mouth, sucking harshly.

you cried out in pleasure, beads of sweat beginning to form on your temples as it dripped down the sides of your face. your eyes fell down, watching where you both were connected, seeing how your pussy swallowed his entire cock in one swift motion.

your juices were dripping down on his shaft, wetting his balls and the fabric of the couch below you guys. the vein that decorated the underside of his cock deliciously grazed against your walls.

the living room was filled with heavy breathing, wet skin slapping, the shlick and squelching sounds of your drooling pussy colliding with his cock; along with the mix of moans and curses.

geto released your now swollen nipple from his mouth, his drool coating the bud as he looked at you, completely pussy drunk.

"you don't know how hard it was to resist you. u-ughh, had to fuck my fist to the thought of you every night." geto confessed, making you imagine the picture of him laying on his bed with his legs spread open like a whore, fisting his hard dick while moaning your name.

this alone made your pussy flutter, unintentionally making you squeeze him; earning a gruff groan from the man.

"you liked hearing that, didn't you? dirty girl." he let out a breathy laugh, making you frown as you grew embarrassed at how your body betrayed you.

"shut up, you talk too much." you grumbled before shoving your nipple back in his mouth to hush him and save whatever dignity you had left remaining. geto smirked, playfully giving your nipple a bite.

"suguru!" you yelp as you smacked his upper arm. as an apology, geto swirled his tongue around the bud, pinching the other neglected nipple as he fondled with both of your tits equally.

you could feel heat slowly building up in your lower stomach, that knot tightening feeling once again returning as your thighs began to tremble while you bounced on his cock. geto noticed your struggle, deciding to help you out as he grabbed a hold of your waist, still suckling on your nipple.

suddenly, he began to thrust upwards, his pelvis meeting your clit each time you bounced down on him. the impact of his action made your eyes roll back, feeling your orgasm draw in closer. your hand reached for your clit, rubbing it fast as geto began to increase his pace in thrusting his cock into you as you rode him.

"fuck! g-gonna cum! oh my god— hnnghh, i-i.." your voice died down, mind completely fucked out as you began to babble random shit while geto pounded into your cunt. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his cock, your pussy so incredibly wet that it was easy for him to slide in and out with no problem.

"fucked you dumb already? you're so needy." geto mumbled against your tits as they smothered him while you tried to chase your orgasm. your shaky hand reached behind his head, smoothly pulling off the hair tie that kept his hair in a bun.

you watched his ebony locks fall on his shoulder, nearly cumming right then and there at the sight of him.

god, he looked so babygirl.

geto's face was completely flushed, swollen lips suckling on your nipples, hair tousled, and sweat dripping down his face as his eyes were closed shut.

your fingers found home in his hair, tangling with the smooth locks as you pushed him closer to your chest, bouncing on his cock while he thrusted upwards in you.

geto felt your pussy twitch and squeeze around him, indicating that you were gonna cum soon. so, he made sure that his movements remained sharp and fast; plowing into your messy cunt, his balls were completely coated with your slick as they slapped against your ass.

"make a mess on me, sweetheart." he said, not sure if you were able to hear him from how fucked out you were. but, you didn't need to hear him as with a loud moan being ripped out of your throat, the intense stimulation on your clit and nipple along with the harsh pistoning of his cock into your cunt made you gush around him.

geto let out a soft whimper, feeling the warmth of your juices leaking down on his shaft. with a few more desperate thrusts as his tip brushes against your cervix, he came deep into your pussy. you shuddered at the feeling of his thick cum painting your walls, as he dumped in a huge load inside.

you both were a moaning mess, breathing heavily as your mixed fluids began to messily trickle down his cock. geto released your nipple from his mouth with a 'pop', looking at you through his fuzzy vision.

he noticed the dried streaks of your tears on your cheeks, the corner of your mouth with drool. you tugged on his hair, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss full of tongue and the sound of teeth clashing, riding out your highs with small thrusts.

you sucked on his lower lip before releasing it, pressing one last soft kiss on his lips before pulling away. you looked at him in a daze, pushing away the single messy bangs that covered his eye.

with his cock still plunged deep inside you, you hugged him while resting your head on his shoulder; trying to cool down from your orgasm and catch your breath.

"you okay, sweetheart?" geto asked softly, his fingers coming up to your cheek to stroke the burning hot flesh. you hummed with a nod.

"yeah. you feel so warm, sugu. don't wanna let go." you mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on his pulse point. geto decided to indulge into you, wrapping his arms around you as he held you close, both of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"we should clean up soon, it's well past dinner time." he deeply chuckled, making you sigh.

"okay." you responded, picking your head up before leaning in to give him one last kiss. geto looked at you with playful eyes as you gave him a shy smile.

oh yeah, his plan worked out perfectly.

---

"mmm, this tastes so good, sugu!" you gasped, trying to speak with your mouth full, as you praised the taste of his food. geto made one of your favorite dishes, coconut shrimp curry with rice; his culinary skills were seriously no joke.

"hm, make sure to eat up then." geto chuckled, ruffling your hair before taking a bite out of his own plate. you both ate peacefully, talking about each other’s day along with making jokes here and there; as if he didn't rearrange your guts like twenty minutes ago.

"y/n?" he suddenly called out, making you look up at him with anticipating eyes.

"hm?" you hummed in response. you watched him clear his throat before playing with the shrimp on his plate with his chopsticks.

"i didn't want that to be like a one time thing between you and me. the thing is— i've liked you for a while now." geto confessed, making you nearly choke on your mouthful as you quickly chewed on your food, swallowing it.

"i like you too, sugu. although, i thought i was being pretty obvious." you sheepishly smiled, averting your gaze away from him as you grew shy.

"i guess i was being a little dumb. but, masturbating while moaning my name was definitely a game changing sign!" he teased, watching your nostrils flare up in embarrassment as your cheeks now became tinted with a soft blush.

"suguru!" you threw a balled up napkin towards him, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

"i'm kidding! but, i won't lie, that shit made me so hard." geto casually stated, making you drop your eyes to the table.

"god, how much did you hear?" you gasped, growing a little worried. geto grabbed his chin, pretending to think hard.

"hmm, let's see. up till the part where you were like nghh~ need your cock inside my pussy, sugu! oh my god, i'm gonna cum!" he imitated your moans in an obnoxiously high-pitched voice, making you cover your face in embarrassment. geto let out a quick laugh at the sight, making you pout.

"damn, can't even fuck myself in peace." you mumbled to yourself, making him snort.

"well, now you can fuck me instead." geto nonchalantly replied with a smirk, making you choke on your food.

"god, you're so shameless!"

"i was being straightforward."

"whatever." you sighed out, rolling your eyes.

"go on a date with me this friday to the carnival." he suddenly offered, his smirk now replaced with a warm smile. your heart fluttered, feeling it stuck in your throat as your lips curled upwards.

"i'd love that." you accepted, and the both of you continued to finish up dinner.

since geto cooked for you both, you insisted on doing the dishes in return, although he tried to convince you that he had it covered. nonetheless, you were pretty stubborn, and geto decided to step away and let you clean up.

he made his way to the living room, sitting on the sofa as he grabbed his phone, clicking on the second person on his favorited contact list. geto waited patiently as he fixed his hair on the camera and after two rings, he finally picked up.

"you call me at the absolutely worst times, suguru. i'm literally about to dick down my girlfriend." gojo whined on the other side of the line, a frown tugging on his lips, making geto roll his eyes at his best friend's complaint.

"let's grab dinner tomorrow. i got something to tell you." geto smirked, and as if gojo telepathically knew what his best friend was gonna tell him, the white haired male gasped.

"no fucking way!"

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto suguru #jjk geto #geto suguru smut #geto smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto fluff #geto suguru fluff #jjk fluff #jjk crack #geto suguru imagines #geto imagines #geto headcanons #geto scenarios #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk imagines #jjk thirsts #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #geto x y/n

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Christian Woman

(König x Nun!Reader)

Word count: 5.2 k Summary: Yup it’s König with a Virgin!Nun!Reader folks. This is all @wordstome 's and @melancholic-thing 's and their König & religion post's fault! :( Tags/warnings: PINING. Eventual smut, eventual blood & minor injuries. A cute, sweet, silly story with undertones of religious despair. Watch out for possible mistakes concerning Catholicism, I was more interested in the forbidden love trope.

Part 1

You don’t know how it even happened, but you became friends with a foreign man visiting your city. 

You bumped into him one day. Literally bumped into him, or then he bumped into you; you’re not entirely sure who’s to blame here, but you would’ve fallen to the ground had he not grabbed you by the arm and hauled you back up and against him. 

It was just to prevent you from hurting yourself, but your mind short circuits for a moment when you’re pressed against the broadest chest you’ve ever seen. The man is tall, so tall you have to crane your neck to see who has such lightning-fast reflexes.

Worried eyes look down at you from above, but the man’s expression softens when he sees how frightened you look.

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

He starts to fuss about being in such a hurry without any particular reason and asks if he can make this up for you somehow.

Could he offer you a lunch or something? No, how about a drink? He’s truly so sorry.

His accent is charming, and the genuine regret and worry make you quickly judge him as a safe enough person to grab a coffee with. Accidents happen, and it’s not illegal to sit down with a man you just met, right?

You tell him you don’t drink drinks, but a coffee would be nice. The man raises an eyebrow when you reveal to him that you’re not only a teetotaler, you’re also a nun. 

“Ah… So you prefer a simple life?” 

He takes you to a dark, cosy cafe around the corner. His inquiry leads to a conversation on the joys of silence and simplicity, then on philosophy, faith, and the cons of modern life. By the time he grabs you a table for two, you’re already discussing how people are always on their smartphones nowadays, looking for instant gratification and pleasures and how it wrecks their brains. You both gush about how nice it is to steer away from all that. 

You find yourself talking to him with ease about your life choices. How the anxiety reached a point where you wanted to get away from all the fuss, and how much peace this solution has brought you. How you have meaning and purpose these days, and how you doubt you’d be able to adjust into a modern society anymore. He gets what you mean immediately, saying he only feels at home when he’s alone in the mountains. How he’s been alone his whole life, really, and that it doesn’t scare him anymore, on the contrary.

You feel warm and safe with him, lost inside a soft bubble you quickly create in the corner table of a cellar cafe. Perhaps it’s the dimly lit environment or perhaps it’s just him, but you have one of the deepest conversations ever with this mysterious man.

He’s attentive and curious without being your usual pervert on the sly. You’ve had enough of men looking at you like you’re the forbidden fruit after hearing about your life choices. 

This man doesn’t try to seduce his way into your pants; he listens to your insights and agrees with you on how silence does you good, especially in times like this. You wonder what he does for work and why he’s here because clearly, he’s not local. You never get to ask him because the conversation ends far too quickly. 

He receives a message on his phone, cruelly reminding you that the magical bubble has burst and you’re back in the modern world. He looks crabby about the interruption too, especially when he says he has to go.

You both agree that you had a nice talk and should continue it sometime – why not tomorrow? Same time, same place.

So you meet him again. 

And again… And again. 

You find out he’s in town for at least two weeks, but when he finally reveals what he does for work, your stomach sinks. He tells you he’s working for some private military contractor and can’t really share any details about his work. When you ask him does this mean that he kills people for money, he falls silent.

“I guess you could put it like that.”

He’s looking at his shoes when he says it, somewhat embarrassed or sad. His feet barely fit under the table, so he has them stretched out, leading to a waitress almost tripping on them one day. Your heart is squeezing inside your chest when he rises immediately and apologises like the perfect gentleman, helps the lady up and never gets insulted by the murderous glares the woman shoots at him. 

He gives you his codename, König, and that he comes from Austria, but then refuses to share any other personal details. You don’t even get to know his first name. You do talk about your childhood, you talk about your schools and what you were supposed to become when you grew up. He tells you about his love for hiking, and you tell him about your dance hobby. 

The usual “Oh? Nuns are allowed to dance?” comment has you laughing. 

“Well… I don’t do twerking, but yes, nuns are allowed to dance.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?”

It’s so funny how you seem to know about modern trends more than him. You know about Tinder and TikTok through your friends; it’s just that these things are really not for you. Still, this König knows even less about dating apps and internet challenges than you. 

It makes you intrigued: he could have dozens of women right now if he wanted to. And not only because he’s attentive and kind: he’s so big and tall that most women would beg him to whisk them away. All he needed to do was go to a hookup site and deal out some likes. 

Most of his muscles are packed in the shoulders and chest area, making it challenging for him to fit through a door. You can see he hasn’t skipped a leg day either, and immediately chastise yourself for checking out his butt in the coffee queue. You ignore your filthy thoughts of wanting to get pressed against those pecs again, you pay no attention to the fleeting musings on how good that short stubble would feel against your neck if he ever chose to kiss you there.

A soldier and a nun make an odd pair, but you find yourself enjoying his company more than anyone elses. He seems to wait for your meetings with eager but polite enthusiasm, too. You know it’s an attempt to make you forgive his choice of career when he reveals to you that his best mission was when he saved thirty women from sex trafficking. And it does make your heart crack open a little. Killing is a sin, but he has tried to protect life in his own crude way.

You start to include him in your prayers. First, you ask for the Lord to guide this man away from the path of killing. Then, slowly, you ask him to be protected from harm, you only pray for him to be safe. 

And you say nothing of this new acquaintance to the others. You ought to, but your lips remain sealed.

You’re allowed to have friends and visit them, and it doesn’t matter if the friend is of the opposite sex as long as the meetings are purely platonic. Which they are. This man could be your brother, you tell yourself. He could be a long-distance cousin. There’s nothing fishy going on around here, and he’s just visiting, so why would you bother to tell anyone? It would only lead to troubled sighs and concerned questions, and you really don’t feel like answering them right now.

You miss a few midday prayers, and once, your chores. The relationship turns out to be far from platonic.

König can’t even keep his eyes in check. 

They travel down your neck and land on the smallest amount of cleavage, barely visible in the loose, dull shirts you wear. They slip further down and stop to admire your breasts next, then quickly rise back to your collarbones as if this was just a mistake, just an absent, wandering gaze. You know you’re wearing a semi-helpless stare by the time he meets your eyes. The blue steel in his is completely swallowed by hunger.

You want to believe it was only a momentary lapse, but then he does it again. Actually, you catch him looking at your breasts, scanning your body and cherishing the tender spot between your collarbones more times than you can count. They’re quick, stolen moments, so harmless that you choose to stay quiet. He usually starts to talk about something trivial right after, or asks you a quick question as if nothing ever happened.

Those stolen glimpses stay with you for the rest of the day though. They give you intrusive thoughts during morning prayers and evening silence. You’ve never felt this… adored.

He has a quiet, commanding presence, and you feel like a mouse under his gaze, a mouse who’s always thoroughly examined. At the same time, he’s so polite and so charming that you can’t think ill of him. He always takes your coat and brings you coffee, always asks how your day or week has been, and actually listens to you speak. He listens to your every word with a softening glow in his eyes, a shimmer that spreads across the table and makes you feel warm all over. 

König always softens in your presence... You always tense up in his. 

Your face is flushed, and you blame it on the overcrowded cafe. You feel both safe and in danger with him, and it must be the virgin inside you talking. But you sense there’s something more at play here. He’s simply not like other men. 

You fear he’s seen hell; in fact, he must walk there every day. From what he tells you, you understand that he has suffered a lot and could use your prayers. But it’s also quite clear that he’s not a victim anymore. 

It’s difficult to see this utterly charming teddy bear in front of you, enjoying his large cup of coffee and giving you the occasional husky laugh, then imagine the same man bursting through a door and starting a massacre. Marching in some dark, dirty recess with a rifle or a shotgun in his hands, hunting down screaming people and putting down his already bleeding enemies.

Because that’s what you imagine in your mind when he tells you he’s sometimes used as an insertion specialist; a human battering ram in short.

You look at his hands around the mug, long fingers curled in search of warmth. He has short, trimmed nails and no sign of blood under them… But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

…

"Oh honey. Soldiers are the worst," your friend sighs when you meet her at another cafe, different from where you meet your killing machine. It’s bubbly and lively and colourful, just like your friend; it’s the opposite of König, the special operations soldier who’s dark, intriguing, and intimate, just like the dimly lit cellar cafe you meet him in secret.

"He probably owns a Fleshlight," she mumbles with her mouth full of croissant.

"A… A what?"

She starts to cough at your innocent inquiry, and you know you didn’t hear ‘flashlight’ in the first place, it’s just that you’re not sure if you want to know what on earth she’s talking about now.

When she finally survives the munch she almost choked on, she politely tells you what a fleshlight is, and you find yourself not rolling your eyes, but actually thinking about König using one with need.

Christ have mercy…

"Soldiers are crazy. I once dated this peacekeeper,” your friend continues in her usual chirpy way. “Couldn't hold a conversation for his life. Unless it was about guns... And when I went over to his place, the walls were covered with pictures of naked women. It was so pathetic I had to keep myself from laughing. And oh god, now I remember! He offered me microwaved mac and cheese for dinner…"

You sip your coffee and listen politely to your friend ramble about some guy she used to date. She has a lot of these stories, and all of them are worth hearing. Sometimes you think if you’re living your unlived sex life through your friend, the way you’re so curious about hearing all the different descriptions of male genitalia and the crazy, funny, downright unbelievable scenarios that have happened to her. 

Some of the tales are so gross you’re quite happy you haven’t indulged yourself in casual sex. And at times, hearing about all the things your friend has gone through, being an onlooker to all that heartbreak and pining and loss, has managed to strengthe your resolve.

Being a nun isn’t so bad... At least you haven’t wasted your time on shallow men.

"He put so much chili in that shit that my makeup started to run," she continues her story about the poor excuse for a dinner and a date. Usually, the food leads to sex in these tales, and you’re a hypocrite for wanting to hear more.

"Did you sleep with him…?"

"After that? No thanks," she looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "I pretty much fled the building."

Even the most sad, pathetic, crappy tales make you both laugh, especially if enough time has passed. You laugh now, too, both at your friend falling for a man simply because he was a hot soldier and at the poor man who was in obvious need of an interior designer and a cook. Or a girlfriend… Or a mom.

"Look. I'm saying this because you're my friend." She says after wiping a few tears from her eyes, "And because you’re a virgin and a goddamn nun. Like come on, how many years have you been locked up in that dreadful monastery?"

"Convent," you correct.

"Whatever. I'm telling you this man is just looking for some easy pussy while he's deployed."

“I wouldn't call a nun an easy…ugh, you know.”

“Perhaps he likes a challenge then, “ she shrugs. “Men like to hunt.”

"It’s not like that,” you quarrel, trying to ignore the way her lips purse with amusement. “He's been very nice to me and… we have these great conversations. We talk about really deep stuff, you know? He explained the difference between Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard to me last time we met–"

"Ok, that's even worse. That's a red flag."

You look down at your beverage, sullen and beaten. She’s the first person you’ve told about meeting a man over a coffee, and you’re already doing it wrong.

"Does he ever look at your tits?" She asks all of a sudden.

"What?"

Your friend crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head, looking like an overly self-satisfied detective.

"Do you ever catch him staring at your breasts," she rephrases the question as if she’s talking to a lame person.

"Well… Uh. Yes, sometimes–"

"Well there you have it. Man's just bored with his fleshlight."

"Shh! Keep it down, would you…? Good God..."

"Don't take the name of the lord your god in vain," she chimes. “But seriously, it’s no wonder. If only we could get you out of that convent, there would be a line of men at your door.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“No, seriously. We’re talking about fistfights and broken bones. Dating apps would explode. People would get killed.”

You roll your eyes - your friend always loves to exaggerate things. If anything, you’re scared of men, and you loathe the dating world. You’re put off by shallow commitments and one-night stands and getting ghosted and God knows what else. That’s why you became a nun: to find something stable in your life. You always told your friend that Jesus Christ is the most stable man you’ve ever met, and you will stick with him. As always, your friend was not on the same page with you.

“Stable? Excuse me, but didn’t he start a riot or something at the temple? Are we talking about the same dude who lead an uprising against the Romans? Hung out with whores, raised corpses from the dead, fucked around and found out until someone nailed him at the cross? Stable my ass!”

“Look, even if he wants something more, I’m not up for it,” you try to convince - both yourself and your friend.

“Mm. What a shame,” she smirks. “Is he handsome?”

“Yes, but–”

“Mmh. Deep voice?”

“Umm… It’s memorable?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “Okay fine, it’s nice and deep and I like it. And I love his laugh,” you confess, and your friend does a silent little ‘yay’ and ‘I knew it’ cheer. You know it would be a field day for her if you finally got laid. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve always treated your friend as some sort of devil’s advocate.

You allow yourself to gush a minute, maybe two, about his muscles to your beloved devil. You tell your friend about his broad back, how wide his shoulders are, you tell her about the easy smiles he always sports with you. You describe the tactical pants and the snug black t-shirts he wears in detail, you confess he has a nice butt and that he’s so big he can't even fit the table. 

You tell her how König starts to talk with his hands if he gets excited and how you have to fear he’s going to knock something over and make a mess. You tell about his blue eyes and the way they always soften when he looks at you, and looks at you often. All the time, really. He doesn’t even see other women, uh, you mean, other people in the cafe. He’s polite to the waitresses but never fully acknowledges anyone else but you.

Your friend's enthusiastic grin turns into an uneasy, pitying smile when she realises how deep into this man you actually are. 

"I'm sorry babe… Someone has to give you the tough love," she reaches for your hand across the table. "Do you understand that if this guy is not working for the regular military, he's probably doing some war crime type of shit?"

The way you rush to defend your steadfast soldier who probably has his hands covered in blood, would make your abbess sigh.

"No, no, actually, he's working against these human trafficking cells–"

"Ok, he shoots human traffickers too, that's great. Good for him. You're still about to step into a pile of traumatised, immature, emotionally unavailable soldier shit. Trust me."

"Just because your soldier was like that doesn't mean mine has to be," you blurt.

Gosh - that was a good old Freudian slip...

"Yours now, is he?"

"No, that was… It just slipped."

"So you've actually thought about banging this guy?"

"What?! No."

"You have," she insists with a widening smile.

"No. No, I–"

"Oh my god. You're about to forsake your vows," she brings her hands together in excitement. "Oh my god, oh my god. This is amazing!"

You feel your lips snap into a thin line.

Just whose side is this woman on? Does she want to protect you from heartbreak or push you into some man's lap just for shits and giggles? 

If you're chosen by God, your friend is chosen by the Devil, that's for sure. Nothing exciting ever happens behind the walls of your 'monastery', nothing but endless prayers and boring lectures and monotonous chores. Of course she thinks it's about time you got a round of good dick. She just wants to hear a filthy story when you return from your secret little fling, a fling that could get you kicked out of the convent for good. 

"How tall is he exactly...? Does he have big hands?" 

Your friend's eyes are shining with excitement - apparently the possible war crimes and atrocities König has committed are forgiven and forgotten.

"What does that have to do with anything…?" 

"I can tell you what to expect in the dick department," she smiles with an impish grin.

You eventually leave the cafe with a dirty soul and a skittish heart.

The way your friend described your new acquaintance's probable blessings in the "dick department" left little to the imagination, and now you're actually scared. 

This man has been so polite towards you, so kind to you. He's offered you coffee and pastries and cake along with an intellectual challenge, but now it's all ruined because all you can think about is what's inside his pants. How big his hands are, and how they correlate with what's downstairs. How nice it would feel to lay under him, with his chest pressed against yours, how divine it would be to get pinned down by him. How those strong, narrow hips would fit between your legs, broad shoulders eclipsing the view above as he slowly crawls on top of you. How he'd kiss your neck, your collarbones, your mouth, with such hunger that your legs eventually give in and spread wide open.

You return to the convent with a heavy heart and distressed thoughts, but find some solace in your evening prayers.

Nothing has happened, you remind yourself; these are only thoughts. You have seen a man who's interested in you for half a dozen times. You took part in a shallow, mundane, earthly conversation today with your friend, but nothing carnal or wrong has happened. Everything is the way it has always been.

You’re safe now, completely safe here. There’s no chaos and no guns and no tall men with big dicks, no Austrian war criminals trying to seduce you and then discard you after their deployment ends. 

There’s only a man with a kind smile, warm eyes, and a nice, husky laugh. Some good coffee with distant notes of chocolate and perfectly civil conversations about European philosophers and the crisis of modern thought.

Sturdy walls support you; they have held you for centuries, and the crucifix above you has given hope to so many people before you. The ever-safe embrace of your faith envelops you, and you can always trust that you are loved, even when you’re flawed and incomplete.

Even with indecent thoughts, you can pray for mercy and ask for forgiveness. Even if you have impure urges towards your Austrian mercenary, you can still pray for him... It’s the least you can do to repay the kindness he has given you.

But the heaviness follows you to your room; it makes your chest feel dark and thick. You don’t say your last prayer before bed. You don’t want His eyes upon you tonight.

You don’t want to draw the Lord’s attention to you while your hand travels down beneath the sheets, your thoughts wandering to a certain god-like soldier with eyes like burning ice.

…

The next time you two meet, he crosses a clear boundary. 

König has started to take you for walks, sometimes suggesting you two could visit a museum, clearly wishing you’d show him around the city. In truth, he’s the one parading you around like you’re his cute little lady. He pays for your museum tickets and brings you ice cream while you sit on a bench at a park, grabs your arm to draw your attention to a few swans swimming in a pond. And that’s ok - physical touch like that is ok. Holding hands is not.

Because…

One time, when you’re walking down a hill path, admiring the sunset, a big, warm hand wraps itself around yours. 

It finds you in silence, envelops your tiny palm completely, squeezes you softly and emanates so much heat that a cord of fire shoots across your arm and straight into your heart.

You allow yourself to bask in the warmth of the huge, calloused palm for a few more seconds before ripping your hand away. You take a few hurried steps and turn, noticing he has stopped to look at you with guarded hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise even if König is the one who went off limits, “but this is not appropriate.”

“Entschuldigung… I know. That was out of bounds,” he raises a hand over his heart and bows his head a little, watching you from under his brows. You could keel over from how the gesture reminds you of Arthurian romances, of knights who place their hand on their heart to swear they’ll never disgrace a lady again. 

Instead, you nod, your soul saved but your heart sinking like an anvil dropped in the sea. You’d want nothing more than for him to do it again, to grab your hand in his and never let go.

The rest of the walk happens in awkward silence, and you thought he would keep his distance - Christ, you thought you would keep your distance - but he insists on walking near to you, and so you continue down the path with your fingers still touching each other every now and then. You don't even try to move your hand away.

I’m going to die, you scream internally while looking at the bleeding sunset in the distance. You can’t look at him; you can’t even talk to him. It’s like your body is pumped full of some drug these days.

Falling for someone so hard is making you feel faint; your insides are churning and turning and your brain is a mess. Your heart is racing so fast that you’re afraid you’ll end up having a heart attack one of these days.

He’s probably used to this: the thrill and the adrenaline, a world laced with rush and extremes, indulging in things such as guns and explosions and blood and women and darkness.

You only have your safe routines, your sisters, a few friends you meet over coffee, a family you visit thrice a year. You’re not used to being bombarded with hormones and raw emotion like this. You have never, ever lusted after a man like this. The only thing you ever craved for was another slice of cake.

“Do you still want to see me?” He asks apologetically when you approach the convent which has now started to resemble a frigid, uneventful prison.

“Of course,” you hurry to say. “Just… No more holding hands. Ok?”

“Ok,” he chuckles softly, and you stop and turn.

He’s never been this near to where you live, and you’re afraid someone will see you if he escorts you to the door. You can’t be seen with a man in your current state, that would be a catastrophe. Anyone in the building could tell that this friendship is far from platonic.

“I’m sure you’ll find some other girl to… hold hands with,” you say, hating how bitter and self-pitying you sound. You even swallow when you look up into his eyes. They’re so soft now that the ice has almost disappeared, devoured by longing, a thick and sinful darkness.

“What if I don’t want some other girl?” 

His voice is so wickedly gentle too.

You can see he’s fighting an inner battle to not touch you again; he’s standing toe to toe with you, towering above you, with his shoulders slightly hunched. If someone walked behind him, they wouldn’t even see you’re there because of how close you two are standing to each other. You can’t back away from him because you’d bump into a tall iron gate - in fact, you’re half-pressed against it now. 

“I’ve enjoyed our conversations,” he continues with a throaty voice. God, how you would melt if he used that voice in bed…

“So have I,” your voice comes out as a wavy whisper. “But there can’t be anything more than that... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he laments, but the corner of his mouth curves slightly up. “So sorry you wouldn’t even believe…”

It’s mischief and seduction, darkness and deception, and your insides squeeze into a tight little knot.

“Please… Let’s just keep it the way it was,” you plead with eyes that beg the complete opposite.

“Sure... I will try my best, Kätzchen. Is this your convent…?” 

You wonder if he’d pay you a visit if you told him where you sleep. You wonder if your single bed would creak if he tried to make love to you on it... You wonder if you could muffle your cries when you clenched with him inside you. If he’d groan too loudly when he reached his peak…

“It’s just around that corner,” you explain with a frail voice, hating how it betrays every single thing that crosses your mind.

“Good to know,” he replies, with no shakiness to his voice at all. He seems to enjoy making you so flustered; he seems to draw strength from people weaker than him. Which is probably 99 % of the population…

“How so,” you peep, already praying that he wouldn’t come to try his luck with the poorly locked windows. The back door is always open too because some of the nuns are smokers. König wouldn’t even need to use his insertion skills to get in.

“Now I know where to find you if I come to work here again,” he shrugs as if innocent. As if his eyes didn’t betray a few filthy thoughts too.

“Are you… Are you leaving then?”

“Soon.”

Your heart is about to break after two weeks of knowing some random guy, and you feel like the silliest woman in the world.

You try to remind yourself of what your friend said: this man just wants some easy pussy. He’s just bored with his fleshlight. Men like challenges, they like to hunt. You think about Lucky Luke and all the other cowboys who came and went as they pleased, breaking hearts and then riding into the sunset.

This cowboy only got to hold your hand though... And he’s saying he doesn’t want “some other girl”. Of course there’s a chance that he simply visits a brothel after discussing philosophy with you, or goes to a club or whatever, but you don’t want to entertain such horrible thoughts. 

“I’ll miss you, then,” you try to sound neutral while he’s looking down at you like you’re his first love.

“Ganz sicher, I will miss you too. Perhaps I’ll visit you, work trip or not?”

“That would be nice.”

“It might take a while. But you won’t forget me, ja?”

“Of course not. I will pray for you every day,” you smile with a good amount of affection. It has the same effect as saying something like “I want to blow you right here on this street” because your Austrian giant gets visibly excited. His breath quickens, and his eyes start to wander again. 

“...Are you sure I can’t hold your hand?”

You give him a shy smile, then quickly guide your eyes to the pavement. This König is definitely taking it as some love confession when a girl says she will pray for him. Your insides turn to jello when you see his hand close into a loose fist, then open with a spasmlike stretch. He wants to touch you so badly that he has to physically fight against it.

“No…?” He inquires high above you, so desperate that you’re quite sure he’s not frequenting any brothels in the area. He might stroke his cock to the thoughts of you, though…

You shake your head softly, then raise your eyes back to his. What a silly, silly man. If only you weren’t a nun, you’d let him do whatever he wants with you. Even abandon you after using you in every which way, because to be under that adoring gaze is worth a thousand heartbreaks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

There’s more desperate hope in that question, and you wonder if tomorrow is the last time you’ll see each other. Soon could mean anything, but you can’t bear to hear the exact time and date when he leaves. Not tonight.

“Yes. Same time, same place,” you agree, then flee from under the dark, adoring stare to the safety of your cloister. 

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x nun!reader #forbidden love #könig fanfiction #konig x reader #konig x you

[reiderwriter]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You have a big fat crush on Spencer Reid. And now you have to share his clothes, his hotel room and his bed for one special night.

Warnings: Day 31 of Kinktober - The End, vanilla sex, love confessions, p in v, pretty softcore compared to the other stuff. Fluff.

A/N: We did it! It's literally halfway to December, but I finally finished all of the kinktober fics! Thank you, everyone, for coning with me on this amazing journey. Thank you for all your support for thesr 31 fics, I literally wouldn't have done it without you 💖

It was hard being hopelessly in love with your coworker. This was a fact that you'd learnt upon entering the BAU and meeting Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd never believed in love at first sight  and to be truthful, you were still a sceptic, but there was something about him that had you leaning in, eyes sparkling as you hung on his every word. 

If you were asked what exactly it was about him that you liked so much, you'd probably tie your tongue up trying to answer. 

Maybe it was his intelligence. Maybe it was the complete obliviousness that went along with it. 

It could have been the way he made sure to check in on you regularly, made sure you were managing the transition to the BAU well, and let you know that he'd be there to support you. 

It was probably also because of how goddamn attractive he was. You swore that he was walking around like the female lead in a 00s rom com - he just didn't know how hot he was. In fact, he was so oblivious that he still didn't reconcile the fact that ‘Pretty Boy’ was less an insulting nickname and more the cold, hard truth. 

You'd accidentally reminded him of that fact about a month into being deliriously into him. 

“Pretty Boy…? Hey, Spencer? Doctor Reid? Nothing…” Morgan sat on the edge of your desk as he called over to the man just opposite him, sitting completely still bar his hand that was racing across a page as he read furiously. 

“He's busy, Morgan. I'm sure if you just call his name Louder, he'll answer.” You sighed. Watching the two men quibble had become an interesting pastime, to say the least. 

“Spencer, the office is on fire. Spencer, Hotchner, is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Rossi is naked in his office right now. Spencer, Y/N is-” 

“Okay, that's enough,” you said, standing up from your desk and clearing your throat. You thought you'd just stand up and get Spencer’s attention the same way Derek had, projecting your voice just a little bit more.

“Pretty Boy.” As soon as the words fell from your lips, the man in question bolted upright, hitting his knee on the desk as he rose, locking eyes with you. 

“Yes, Y/N?” Almost as soon as he was upright, Morgan was in fits on the floor, partly from the reaction, partly from Spencer's self injury. When he turned back to you and noticed your red face, the laughing fit only doubled. 

Spencer joined you in perpetual embarrassment as Morgan slipped off, still laughing  but seemingly no longer interested in whatever it was he wanted Spencer for in the first place. 

“Y/N, did you need something?” He asked, clearing his throat as he sat down once again. 

“No! No, actually, Morgan… it doesn't matter.” You smiled politely and sat back down, quickly pulling some paperwork together to make yourself look busy. 

“Usually only Morgan calls me pretty boy.” He murmured from the other side of the desk  

“That's because it's the truth.” 

“What?” His eyes locked with yours as you suddenly realised he'd been talking to himself, not engaging you in further conversation. 

“I… well, I mean, he wouldn't say it if you weren't actually pretty, Spencer.” He looked at you for a second, then relaxed, smiling softly as he continued his reading. 

You could've sworn you heard a tiny thank you under his breath  but you just continued your work and tried to calm your heart rate down. 

After that, you made it your mission to out an arm's length between yourself and Spencer Reid. You were polite about it, of course, but you felt an awful lot like a teenager with a crush. Or maybe a pre-teen with a crush. Sometimes, to be honest, you were probably acting like a complete child. 

Fate, or Aaron Hotchner, had other plans for you, though. 

“If you can't make it, that's okay, but it's regulation to send two agents because of some prior interviews that have turned particularly violent.” He explained after he called you into his office. 

“JJ has Henry to take care of, same for Kate and her niece. Morgan has a trial tomorrow, so he's unavailable as well, so I really only have you and Reid to ask. Can you do it?” 

You weren't sure if it was some need to please the man in front of you as if you were his child who had scored badly on a pop quiz, or his perpetual state of exhaustion that had you giving in and nodding to the man, agreeing to five hours in a car with Spencer. But you did. 

The ride wasn't all that bad, to be honest. In typical Spencer fashion, he'd bought along a few audiobooks to listen to, so most of the time was filled with The Faerie Queene and the sleep that you'd fallen into after listening to The Faerie Queene. 

You couldn't fully escape conversation, though, and in between changing tapes, he started asking questions. 

“How are you liking the unit?" He asked casually, his eyes on the road as you turned to stare at him. 

“It's been good. The only downside is all of those field work fitness tests, though.” 

“Be glad that you had to do those before you joined us. Morgan decided to be helpful and train me and Penelope.” 

“That doesn't sound too bad,” you laughed at him as an honest frown coated his face.

“Have you seen the guy? He's like a walking weightlifting advertisement, I think he could bench press me. And it turned out that we didn't even need the training anyway.” 

“Wow, and you fell for it? I thought you were a super genius, Doctor Reid.” 

“Hey, that's discrimination. I can be very stupid, too. I contain multitudes.” You laughed and relaxed into the seat some more, memorising each detail of his face as you looked at him. There was a small awkward pause as he waited for you to say something else. Just as he made to turn and look at you, you straightened again and looked away before he could catch you. 

“I'd love to see those multitudes some day.” 

“I'd love to show you them.” 

After that, you'd sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out of the window so he couldn't see the effect his words had on you. 

You were thankful that the actual interview finished shortly, the death row inmate becoming rather chatty in his final days and gracious in the details he was willing to give out. The prison still put you on edge, though, so you were glad to have your gun back on your hip and fresh air in your lungs as you moved towards the car. 

You were just waiting for Spencer to get off the phone so you could get back on the road and into your comfy bed. 

“That was Hotch,” Spencer said, walking over. “We've got a case. We're closer than they are, so they want us to drive there and stay in the hotel for the night, and they'll see us tomorrow.” He smiled in sympathy as he watched your face fall. 

The stuttering of your heart was so loud that you almost couldn't hear his words. Surely, that didn't mean you had to spend the night with Spencer Reid? You didn't know if you'd actually survive that. 

“I-I don't have my overnight bag.” You said. 

“Hotch said JJ is picking it up. She'll pass it to you tomorrow.” 

“But it's winter, what am I going to wear tonight?” You practically whispered the words as your brain finished functioning once again. 

“I have something you can change into. Of that's okay with you, of course!” You didn't trust yourself to talk, so you just nodded at the man and climbed into the car, ready for him to take you to your home for the night. 

Fate didn't stop there, though. 

“There's been some kind of mistake,” you heard Spencer mumble as you walked up to the front desk behind him. You'd been sat on a sofa in the foyer waiting for him to return with your key and his when you realised he'd been taking too long. 

“What's the problem?” You asked as he turned around to look at you, running his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“They only booked one room.” 

“Sir, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take up the issue with your company. But there's only one room here in your name, and we're otherwise fully booked for the night. We had two weddings and an academic gathering this weekend. Guests are still trickling in and out.” 

“Okay, what about my name? Can you see if there's anything under Y/L/N?” 

“I already tried that. They have Hotchner down, but only from tomorrow.” His jaw tensed again as he turned to you. If you knew him better, you'd probably be able to recognise his nervousness. God, how you wished you knew him better. 

“It's one night?” You nodded and took the keys from the receptionist as you and Spencer walked towards the room you'd be sharing for the evening.

“Derek says I talk in my sleep, but that claim has never been substantiated with any real evidence. Also I prefer to sleep on the bed nearest to the window, is that okay?” Spencer rambled slightly awkwardly as you approached your new hotel room. 

You smiled at him and flexed your hand slightly, trying to reach out to comfort him but holding yourself back from the casual physical contact. 

“It's okay,” you said, grabbing the key card. “Let's go in.” 

If that day had taught you anything, it was to expect something else to go wrong. 

The room was wonderful, with a large window, a competent bathroom, surprisingly spacious for the usual FBI budget. There was, of course, only one bed.

“I'll take the sofa. It's right next to the window anyway.” 

“Spencer it's not a pull-out. You're never going to get any sleep on that thing.” You stood your ground, dumping Spencer’s bag and your own small purse on the sofa so he couldn't take up permanent residence there. 

You weren't sure why you were fighting so hard to get him in the same bed as you, knowing what effect it would have on you, but you didn't care to think about that right this second. 

“Okay, let's just get ready to sleep, and we can talk about it again.” He said, digging you out an old pair of sweatpants and a caltech jumper and gesturing for you to use the bathroom first. 

You quickly showered up and changed into the warm clothes. It was strange to be able to feel how much bigger than you he was since you'd never really considered it. 

Spencer was tall, but you weren't exactly petites, and yet here you were, getting swamped by his college sweatshirt. And you knew for a fact that he'd been practically a child still when he'd last graduated. 

“All yours, Spencer,” you said, walking from the bathroom and over to the bed where you'd left your phone on charge. 

He didn't say anything, but you noticed he'd stayed stuck to the spot and sat at the opposite end of the sofa reading a book. 

“Spencer? Did you hear me?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he finally diverted his eyes away from you. 

“No pretty boy this time?” He pouted under his breath, but you laughed all the same, watching him grab similar garments from his bag again and travel to the bathroom.

You must've drifted off slightly between him going in and coming out, because when you woke, there he was again on the sofa. 

“Spencer? What are you doing? Get into bed.” You blinked your eyes a few times, rubbing away the sleep in them as you sat up. Spencer had sat up on the sofa, reading his book again, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. 

“I said I'm fine here, Y/N. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Sighing, you pushed yourself out of bed and walked around it to where Spencer was. 

“Spencer, you're like 6’4. This sofa couldn't even sleep a five year old comfortably, let alone all of you.” You slipped the book from his hand, shutting it and placing it on the side table. 

“I'm assuming you don't need a bookmark?” When he shook his head with a resigned sigh, you grabbed his hand and pulled him up. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” 

“Spencer, you already gave up your clothes for me, I'm not letting you give up the bed, too.” 

“It's okay, I enjoyed giving up the clothes.” You couldn't really help the nervous goggle that slipped from your mouth at that statement. 

“Sorry, I just meant I'd-” 

“I know what you meant, Spencer. Let's just go to sleep now.” Grabbing his hand once again, you turned the main lights off, lamps lighting your way to the bed. 

Turning Spencer around, you gently shoved him onto the bed. Though, expecting him to let go of your hand, you'd planned that only he would land there. 

Instead, he doubled down on his grasp of your hand, and you fell with him, landing directly on top of him on the bed, mouths inches from each other. 

You paused there for a few moments, not sure what move was the right one to make. His hips shifted upward slightly, but that was all the movement you needed for you to settle over his crotch rather than his legs. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered breathlessly as you felt every inch of him harden underneath you. 

“I'm not,” he said, eyes searching your face for god knows what. 

When he found it, though, he didn't hold back. His free hand slid up to the back of your head, slamming it down so your lips could lock together, a passionate joining that rid you of all the oxygen in your body. 

“Spencer,” you gasped between kisses as he worked his hand lower, both hands free to wrap tightly around your waist as he continued kissing you with a passion. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he finally pulled away again, holding you as close as he could before capturing your lips one more time.

Your head swam through the sensations blindly, both confused and considerably fused to him at the same time.

Spencer's lips, Spencer's hands, Spencer's everything pressed up against you as you sighed contentedly at his ministrations.

“Spencer… what are we doing?” 

“I don't know. I don't want to stop, though.” His lips matched yours furiously as he pushed his sweater off your body, whining slightly when he had to break contact to get it over your head.

His hands were instantly exploring your chest, grasping your body like it was his lifeline, as your hips rocked against his own. 

You knew you needed to stop this, and soon. Your body didn't agree. If you had sex with Spencer Reid right now, you knew there was no way in hell any other man would ever match up. 

“Spencer, stop.” 

To his credit, he did, hands dropping instantly as he created space between the two of you. Or as much as you'd allow, still sitting on top of him. 

“I'm sorry, I took advantage, I shouldn't have kissed you like th-” 

“I love you.” You blurted out, so desperate for him to shut up and listen to you. Which  again, to his credit, he did. 

“What?” He whispered, stars shining in his eyes.

“I told you to stop because I love you. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay, but I don't think I can do this if you don't.”

“You love me?” 

“Yes, I just said that. Aren't you supposed to have an eidetic memory?” 

“Individuals with eidetic memories often struggle with short-term memories, hanging onto older memories more vividly and recalling them faster.”

“So you want me to say it again?” 

“Over and over, preferably.” He said with a grin, flipping you over so your back was on the bed as he hovered over you. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your cheek. 

“Again.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your neck. 

“One more time,” he whispered, stroking your hair as he finally looked into your eyes. 

“I love you,” you whispered as he kissed your lips once again, holding nothing back as he poured all his joy into you. 

“I love you, too.” 

Your legs tangled together in a blur after that, both hopelessly breathing each other's oxygen. You were giggles and moans, whimpers, and confessions as you found yourself pushing down the covers and your pants so you could slide into bed. 

Neither of you stopped your confessions, still professing your love in each scrape of a nail, each lick, each bite. 

When he finally entered you, your eyes rolled back in pleasure, drunk on him and every reaction he was giving you. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he moaned. “I love how you feel wrapped around me.” His hips snapped softly into you, but he went deep, pushing in the entire way before even letting himself think of drawing himself out of that beautiful heat. 

“I love how reactive you are for me. I love seeing each of your emotions cross your face. I love how you called me pretty. I love how intelligent you are. I love you.” You were overcome with emotions as you finally felt pleasure wash over you, tingling through your body in ripples as he grunted into your ear, close as well. 

Wrapping your legs around him, you nuzzled into his neck and held him tight as he finally finished inside of you. 

You fell asleep like that in each others arms, clinging to each other for dear life. 

When you woke the next morning, it was with a start as you realised the sun was already awake. 

Spencer, however, wasn't, and you jolted up in a panic as you rolled him off of you. 

“Spencer, wake up, the others are going to be here any minute, it's 8:45.” 

“No, they're not,” he said, pulling you right back into his chest. 

“You said yesterday that they're coming today ready for the new case.”

“They started driving at 7am. Driving is going to take them 5 hours 34 minutes, give or take half an hour if there's an accident on the roads. We have plenty of time.”

You relaxed slightly into his hold, then feeling his warmth against you as he stirred slightly again. 

“Of course, we could always do something else to pass the time.” You opened one eye and turned back to face him as his hand traced down to the parting of your legs.

“Nice try, lover boy. If you're awake enough for that, you're awake enough to get started on the case.” 

“I preferred pretty boy,” he groaned but rolled away from you, as you both started getting ready for the day. 

Within half an hour, the two of you were up and ready to answer an incoming video call from Penelope Garcia. 

“Hello beautiful, how is upstate treating you?” She said as you picked up and beamed at her, somehow unable to control the happiness rolling off of you.

“It's been good,” you practically giggled, wiping a hand across your face as you attempted to clear away the grin there.

Spencer approached the laptop screen, too, greeting Penelope with a small squint as he looked down. 

“Hey, Penelope. Do you have the case details for us?” 

“I sent through the files to your emails, Hotch has a paper copy for you too, Reid, when he gets there. We've got a copycat or a resurfaced killer from the 80s. Rossi says the details are familiar to him, but he was going to ask you when he found you.” You both nodded and thanked her, but still, she didn't hang up. 

“So, one hotel room, how was that?” Penelope asked from the other side of the screen, eyes dancing between the both of you. 

“How did you…?” You squinted as Spencer hurriedly closed the laptop to the sounds of her laughing victoriously. Spencer's face flushed again as he brushed his hair out of his face, trying to discuss the files with you as he changed the topic almost expertly. 

“Stop. Spencer, how did she know about the hotel room?”

“Penelope books most of our hotel rooms.”

“Spencer, what aren't you telling me?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at you in the eyes. 

“I may have asked her to book only one room.” 

“What? But the receptionist said-” 

“I slipped her a twenty before you came up.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to be closer to you. When Hotch said he had this interview, and he said he was sending you too, I was so excited to spend time with you, because you've been avoiding me, and I wanted to know what I did wrong so I could make it better, but I guess I didn't do anything wrong because you love me somehow, so I must have done something very very right to deserve that.” He was rambling, but you didn't stop him, smile spreading as you listened to his accidental declarations of love. 

“And then I had to beg Hotch to take this case next, because then we'd have an excuse to be alone longer if we were so close.” 

You tried to catch his attention then by calling his name, but he didn't listen, too intent on his confession. 

“I was going to tell you later today, once we were off work, I didn't want to say something in the middle of the case because that would've been unprofessional  and honestly I didn't want the others to hear because I want you all to myself.”

“I'm rambling, aren't I?” 

“Yes, God  just shut up and kiss me.” 

“You're not mad?” 

“I might have been if I weren't so damn in love with you. But lucky for you, I'm crazy for you.” He smiled at you again, pulling you in close for one more kiss. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid kinktober #criminal minds kinktober #kinktober 23

[hanrinz]

YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEART . . . ! blue lock men are all a loser clingy and desperate for your attention

✦°．feat : isagi yoichi, rin itoshi & nagi seishiro

✦°．notes. f! reader. fluff. ooc characters. so sorry for this and for not posting anything lately </3 i kinda went overboard with isagi lol.

RIN ITOSHI

he would literally throw hands at anyone if you don't stop talking to your phone right now. it's been exactly thirty-four minutes since you have chosen to talk to your old friend over him, your boyfriend—who clearly needs your undying love and attention.

(and yes he's been counting)

you were sitting in the living room, animatedly chatting with whoever lukewarm piece of shit you were talking to. laughing and smiling about something god knows what.

and he's checking on his phone, counting down the minutes and seconds passing by as you continue babbling on and on your old friend. he's now starting to hate this friend of yours. six more minutes and he gets you all to himself and he was selfish—always been and never changing—he wants you to just be beside him right now, he didn't just took off a day from his work just to have you taken away by someone else.

he decided six minutes was too long, why can't he have you now? without any second left to waste, he made his way to the couch, standing tall and glaring menacingly at your phone, as if it would melt away from your hands.

your eyes are now on him, you grace him with a much more radiant smile, with your eyes softly conveying 'you need anything?'

yeah, he definitely needs something. he needs you to hang up on your friend and spend time with him.

you noticed the look on his eyes and it made you laugh a little from his childish acts, jealousy does look kind of attractive on your boyfriend.

your little sudden chuckle had made the other side of the phone to ask you what was so funny? you shake your head as if he could see what you were doing, the conversation had turned dull and truly you only stayed for a couple more minutes out of courtesy, but you were dying to get away from him and just be with your beloved boyfriend.

rin couldn't take this long stupid call any longer—and as much as it was petty and silly, his patience has long been gone—he takes a seat beside you, the cushion dipping from his weight his arm coming round at the back of the couch as his other one takes the device out of your hands grunting out a, “she's busy, call her next time.” and ending the call right away, leaving no room for protest.

“rin-!” you whine, you look at him with disbelief following wuth a laugh as you type out a small apology to your old friend. tossing your phone on your side table not really waiting for a reply back.

not that you don't feel bad or anything, but you were thankful that the call had finally ended.

“you were taking too long,” he grumbled while he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck. “want you all to myself” he muttered on your skin, placing dot kisses along the crevices of your shoulders.

your arms now coming up to his neck as you play with the back of his hair caressing it the way he likes.

“stupid, 'm all yours.”

ISAGI YOICHI

holding your hands wasn't enough for him, well at least this very right moment. why aren't you focusing your eyes on him? is the person beside you that important? more important than him? he's sure not. just someone who wants your attention.

you were just too nice, too good for anything in this world. you were too good for him if he was being honest, someone who was way out of his league, he thinks. but, isagi yoichi is not a coward. he doesn't wait for anything or anyone and when he sets his eyes on something, he makes sure he gets it.

he tried being polite and patient with the person beside you. he really did.

but it was no use, not even the repeated mantra of “play nice” that he keeps saying on his head didn't help with the bubbling feeling welling up on his chest. it doesn't help that he notices the way the guy kept sitting closer to you and the way his eyes scans your body every passing second.

he hates it so much.

your boyfriend has never been one for violence, but he can make an exception right now. he doesn't notice the way his hands have tightened its grip with yours. catching your attention now from the sudden discomfort it causes you, breaking away from the conversation you were having, you looked at isagi with concern.

“yoichi, is everything okay?” you called out to him. he snaps away from his thoughts, replacing his hardened expression with a small smile in hopes of trying not to worry you.

“don't worry 'bout me, pretty,” he smiles, like he didn't just have any intentions of landing a punch to the guy you were talking to.

“you sure?” he only nods at your question. loosening the grip he has on your hands, but still firm as ever.

he knows he has to leave soon for the game and the thought of leaving you with this guy alone makes him go crazy. don't get him wrong, of course he trusts you with all of his heart.

the problem was the trash beside you, though he was more than willing to show how much he deserves your attention more.

“jus’ keep your eyes on me, yeah?” was all he says to you before he leaves.

the match starts, with isagi more than determined to score the first goal, maneuvering the ball with precision, getting behind the players and kicking with high accuracy, isagi scores the first kill.

he didn't care for the crowds uproar, nor the signal sound of the goal he just scored, not even the commentators voices, because what he needs to know is if you were looking at him. searching for your face at the sea of people in the vip section, your eyes meet. his heart kicks into overdrive, pride welling up on his chest as he returns the smile you wore on your face.

the guy beside you was left forgotten, he didn't fail to shoot him a look of abhorrent, secretly in the middle of the match.

and the team wasn't oblivious to the striker's jealousy, they saw it all, isagi couldn't give a damn if this was going to be used against him.

he won. isagi yoichi, the heart of blue lock won another match, dominating the game with fierce play. all he wanted to do was to come to you and have you all night to himself.

“isagi, is there a particular reason for your amazing play today?”

“isagi, how do you feel about today's match?”

“just one moment of your time, isagi!”

he ignores all the noise of the press, shooting up a tired look to rin hoping that the captain would handle all the troublesome questions. he didn't wait for an answer, already trudging back to the locker room.

and there you were waiting for him, all pretty and nice. he smiles to himself as he calls out for you.

raising your eyes in his direction, as you run up to him with a big smile “yoichi!”

he would really like to hug you right now, if not for the dripping sweat of his jersey. and he knows how much you don't like it. he settles for holding your hands instead, but this time your eyes were on him. not on that guy, not any of his teammates, not on anyone, but him.

he places a small tender kiss in your hands, with a tired grin on his face, a little drunk over you.

“was i good?” he whispers, pulling you closer to him.

and you wonder what has prompted this question by your boyfriend, but you don't dwell on it as much when he looks at you like a lovesick puppy.

“the very best, yoichi.”

NAGI SEISHIRO

a big baby who's stuck in a 6ft striker's body. why would you choose some little kid over him? don't you see he's so much better?

“what a bother,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed with the little kid who's been taking up your time in the arcade. he stands lazily by the side, seeing you helping a little kid who seems to be having a hard time winning in a game.

it all started when the two of you had planned out a day for a date, weeks of not being able to be together because of his game overseas.

and now that he gets the time to have you, a little pesky child just managed to snatch you away from his hands. a big pout was residing on his face, clearly he wasn't going to wait for you to come back to him.

arguably, he was being the child in this situation, giving sharp glares at the back of the head of the kid.

poor kid, who just wants to win a little plushie.

and what adds into his sour mood is when you tell him to go play some games to keep him busy while you help the small child.

you really expect him to go away from you and play all by himself? no way. you probably didn't get the notion that he needs you, when he plays all these stupid games. now he stands close by the claw machine, his arm folded on his chest, sighing loudly every minute, impatiently waiting for you.

you were terrible.

very horrible at claw machines, it comes to the point you have almost consumed half of your coins that were supposed to be for you and nagi. you really tried your best, feeling bad for the kid who asked you to help him get a gift for his little sister.

only left with frustrated sighs and disappointment, you turn to your sulking boyfriend by the side, who seems to light up from his sullen expression when you look at him. you flashed him a smile that looks a little strange, not the same ones that keeps his heart beating up and down or makes his ears aflare with redness.

no, you were asking for something. your eyes gesture the claw machine that you're struggling with, you didn't even have to beg, nagi has always been the one to fold for your wishes and bidding.

he was quick to get by your side and play on the controls, if getting this stupid plush penguin was to win you back he'll gladly get ten more of it.

and with just a few calculated flicks and timed clicks, he won. like he always seem to, when he's all fired up and determined.

“easy,” he muttered, as he drapes himself over you engulfing you in a warm embrace, as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo, placing a kiss in your hair in the process.

you laugh at him, letting yourself melt into his bear hug, your hands coming up to caress his snowy hair, “you still down for more, genius?”

“duh.”

you might have returned home with empty pockets and content hearts that day.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated! is it obvious i'm crazy for isagi?

#roses ‘r rosie #rin itoshi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #rin itoshi x you #yoichi isagi x reader #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #isagi fluff #rin fluff #nagi seishiro x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock #bllk x reader

[joyful-enchantress]

Spring Heat (18+) | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: You help your husband through his yearly heat, which is part of the Jotun mating cycle. He's afraid he might hurt you, but you are determined to stay... I wrote this for @springdandelixn and her Double-Trouble Sleepover! Congratulations, Beanie, my love! I hope you enjoy this little fic that I put together for you 🖤

Genre/Warnings: Jotun mating cycle AU, smut (18+), rough sex, choking, dubcon? (everything is consensual but Loki is not entirely in control of himself), language, light angst, fluff too, filth with feeling, established relationship

Word Count: 3182

The sights and sounds of springtime were all around you as you strolled through the palace grounds —

The busy twittering of birds as they searched for food and fought over tree branches on which to build their nests.

The chattering of squirrels and rabbits and other small animals as they came out of hiding to begin a new season of life.

The rich shade of green returning to the grass in the meadow, speckled with pops of color where wildflowers were beginning to bloom.

Speaking of blooming flowers -- the palace gardens were thriving, and in the next couple of weeks were sure to become a spectacle of color, ranging from delicate pastel hues to bright, vibrant tones. Just in time for the Spring Festival that would be held at the end of the month.

Yes, spring was upon you. Your favorite season. It meant warmer temperatures and sunshine and new life.

But despite all the bright cheerfulness that spring brought with it, for your husband, Loki, it also brought with it a certain darkness.

His heat.

Loki was of Jotun blood; a Frost Giant. And with that heritage came certain Jotun traits, some more easily embraced than others. One such trait that your husband found more loathsome than the rest was the Jotun mating cycle.

Each year since his body matured, around the time of the Spring Equinox, Loki would find himself at the mercy of his primal instincts. Unable to control his animalistic urges to mate, he’d lock himself in his chambers until it would pass.

That is, until you had something to say about it.

When you learned of the agony he endured — both physically and emotionally — locked in his chambers for anywhere from one week to one month until his heat cycle passed, you couldn’t bear it. You had to do something to help, if you could.

You remembered the conversation you’d had with him well. It was shortly after your wedding…

————

“Loki, isn’t there anything that would make it easier to endure? Or at least make it come to an end more quickly? I can’t imagine a week of that, let alone a month.”

“Unfortunately, no, darling. There isn’t really anything that can be safely done to help it. The healers can give me an elixir that will suppress it, but I can’t take it every year, or it would lose its effectiveness. And besides, a heat the year after a suppressed heat is always more intense and agonizing.”

Your eyebrow cocked, looking at him with curiosity. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience…?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, I’ve taken suppressants occasionally in the past. The temptation of a year of reprieve was too great for me to resist at times. But I always found that the following year’s heat was far worse than what is typical. More desperation, more madness, more… pain.”

Your heart broke for him in that moment.

“Why does it last so long, Loki?”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “It lasts as long as it takes for one of two things to happen. Either it quite literally burns its way out of my system, like a fever that takes weeks to break. Or…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked off into the distance, as if he was searching for his thought amongst the forests and rolling hills.

“Or…?” You gently encouraged him to continue.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh and quietly admitted, “Or… I mate. Breed. Fuck.”

Something about the way he enunciated the hard ‘k’, his Adam’s apple bobbing sinfully as the sound clicked in his throat, had your core throbbing with need and a wave of hot arousal unfolding over your body.

You blinked a few times as you contemplated what he said. “Well that seems easy enough,” you replied cooly, as if you were discussing the weather.

“What…?” He looked at you, perplexed.

“If having a good fuck will bring your agony to an end, then that seems like an easy solution to me. I can help you with that —”

“NO!” His rich baritone voice boomed as it cut you off, dripping with authority, anger, and — was that fear? “You don’t understand, my love. I am not myself when this happens. I lose myself, I lose control. I no longer am capable of keeping up the Asgardian façade; my Jotun form takes over and I am overcome with the primal desire to mate. I lose all regard for decency, I become… a monster. I am a monster.”

“Loki…” you reached a hand up to caress the side of his stupidly beautiful face, running your thumb soothingly along his sharp cheekbone and slotting your palm against his chiseled jaw, which was tightly clenched. A sign of his distress. “I love you, Loki. Let me help you through this.”

“I love you too, darling. More than my life itself. Which is exactly why I can’t let you do this.” He wrapped his large hand around the back of yours and turned his head to the side to tenderly kiss your palm. “It isn’t safe. I could hurt you. Badly.”

“I trust you, Loki. I trust you with my life, no matter what physical form you assume.” The next words you uttered came to you as easily as breathing, “I want to do this. Please. Use me. Use my body to sate your desires and end your own suffering.”

His emerald eyes widened at your words, most likely shocked at how brazen and self-assured they were. But swirling behind the shock was something else. Reverence. Trepidation. And lust.

He slowly swallowed, gathering himself together and collecting his thoughts after you scrambled them with your salacious plea.

“Alright then, darling.” He cautiously relented, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign that you were having second thoughts or hints of doubt. “Come springtime, when my next heat cycle is upon me, I’ll let you help me. I’ll let you be the balm that soothes my burning, searing ache.”

————

And now, spring was upon you. And any day now, it would be time to make good on your promise to him. For better or worse. You suddenly had a renewed appreciation for the words you spoke in your wedding vows to him, just 8 months ago.

Loki has been warning you for the past few days that his heat is imminent, and could take over at any time. He could feel it; all the warning signs were there. The restlessness. The irritability. The discomfort. Crawling under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. Until it makes him snap.

Each and every time, he asked if you were still sure. He reminded you that you could change your mind, that he didn't expect you to do this. That he'd never expect you to do this. It was entirely your choice.

And each and every time, you stood firm in your decision. You wanted to help him. You would do this.

The sun was beginning to set on your evening stroll, so you altered your route so that it would lead you back towards the private chambers that you shared with Loki. As you approached the hallway which led to your shared door, you could feel a distinct, unseasonal chill in the air.

Was this it? Was tonight the night?

Once you reached the ornate wooden door, you noticed a thin blanket of frost coating the edges of it, as if, behind the door, was the force of winter itself, its icy chill seeping through the gaps between the door and the frame.

You reflected for a moment on the irony that all this frost and chill was the result of something called a heat, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself.

But then you remembered that not just fire, but ice, too, can burn.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and the cold seeping through the doorframe wasn't entirely to blame.

You took a moment to gather your courage, reminding yourself that this was Loki. Your husband. Your one true love.

You could do this.

You softly knocked, each tap of your knuckles against the cold wood sending a jolt of bravery through you.

"Loki... can I come in?"

"Pet..." The voice that answered you was familiar, but more... ragged. It was deeper, if that was even possible, and assumed a huskiness that made your usually gentle husband sound nothing short of feral.

It sent a surge of hot, wet arousal through you, which pooled between your thighs.

"I'm here, Loki..." you whispered like a prayer. "Let me help you."

"This is your last chance, pet," he warned. "You can still change your mind. But the moment you open the door, I'm afraid there will be no going back."

Good thing you had no plans of going back.

You opened the door and stepped into your chambers; after ensuring the door was closed and locked, you took a deep breath. This was it.

As you turned around, you came face to face with your husband.

Except he wasn't quite the Loki you knew. For one thing, he was taller. Much taller. At least 8 feet tall. You briefly wondered how you'd be able to take him in this form. His usually porcelain skin was replaced with a brilliant cerulean, and across every bit of blue that your hungry eyes could find, were ridges that swept across his skin in bold strokes and delicate lines, forming intricate patterns that you longed to trace with your fingers. As your eyes settled on his face, you found some familiarity there. You recognized the bone structure and the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips; the luscious raven locks that framed his angular face were unchanged. But in place of the emerald orbs that you knew and loved were two glistening rubies, staring at you with an intensity that could only be described as ferocious.

He was beautiful. Flawless. You saw no monster before you. Only your husband. Showing you a side of himself that he has kept hidden from you. Until now.

You broke the silence first, and simply muttered, "I love you, and I am here. Use me."

And that was all the permission he needed.

He closed the distance between you impossibly fast, like a predator stalking its prey, and wrapped an icy hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, the coldness stinging like pins and needles against your skin.

His lips met yours with an urgency that you hadn't experienced before; any hint of gentleness was gone and in its place a brutal clash of tongues and teeth as he claimed your mouth, a throaty growl slipping past his lips as he basked in the taste of you on his tongue.

Fear crept up your spine for the first time since you entered, and you brought your small hands up to claw at his wrist, a desperate attempt to let him know that you needed a break; you needed to breathe.

Something within him seemed to get the message, because he peeled his mouth away from yours and released your throat, repurposing his hand to wrap around your midsection and toss you unceremoniously onto the large bed in the center of the room.

You had to admit that part of you enjoyed the way he was manhandling you.

He wasted no time freeing himself from his garments and strode towards the bed, where he situated himself over you, caging in your small frame like a hungry animal about to enjoy the spoils of its hunt.

You gulped at the sight of his enormous cock, as it bobbed angrily against his stomach, covered in the same ridges that decorated the rest of his body, the tip weeping with the evidence of his primal desire. For you.

"These pretty silks have got to go," he rasped against your ear, his breath somehow both hot and cold.

He roughly grabbed the fine fabric and you winced as you heard him rip it to shreds as easily as if your dress was made of flower petals from the garden.

Within seconds, you were bare before him, and his ravenous gaze lazily roamed over your body, savoring every dip and every curve like the sight of you alone could sate him.

Even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

When he decided that his eyes had had their fill, he brought two fingers up to prod against your lips, his gaze meeting yours, daring you to defy him.

But you didn't dare.

You submissively parted your lips and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, astonished at how much your mouth had to stretch just to accommodate them. A wicked smile tugged at his lips as your tongue danced over his digits, preparing them for exploration of another warm, wet hole.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly pulled from your mouth and pushed inside your weeping cunt. They pumped and stretched you almost as much as his normal cock would, and you shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

The nerves melted away though, as his thumb found your clit and worked the sensitive nub in sweeping circles, pleasure taking over your senses and lulling you into a state of calm.

"Loki..." you whispered softly between your whimpers and pants.

He growled in response, withdrawing his fingers from your soaked pussy and wrapping his hand around your thigh, forcing your legs open as wide as they would go.

Before you had a chance to adjust to the new position, his huge cock was at your slick entrance and he thrust forward, forcing as much of himself inside you as he could, his girth stretching your walls and the tip pushing against your cervix. The sudden intrusion took your breath away, and the stinging pain you felt caused unshed tears to well in your eyes. The coldness of his skin only heightened the sensations, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream as he claimed you.

You loved him. You wanted this. You silently reminded yourself as a large blue hand found your throat once again and wrapped around tightly.

A feral moan left his lips as he began to rut into you roughly. Pushing himself in as far as your body would allow. Over and over. Chasing his own pleasure without regard for your own.

"So warm... So tight... You take me so well, pet." He grunted between thrusts. "You're mine."

You couldn't help the fresh pool of arousal that gushed between your legs in response to his words. Even as he wrecked your body and used it like a toy, you loved nothing more than being his.

His rhythm became sloppy and you knew he was close.

With a wild growl, he pulled out of you and violently flipped you over onto your stomach. You were thankful you were on the mattress and not on the floor in that moment.

His large hands dug into your hips, pulling them upwards and angling you so that he could sink himself once again into your tight cunt. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air between shameless moans as he pounded into you from behind like an animal.

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak; he let out a primal roar as he came, pumping you full of his seed. You felt it leaking out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as he continued to shallowly thrust into you while he rode out his high.

And that was the last thing you remembered before darkness blurred the edges of your vision and you succumbed to exhaustion, your body limp and spent.

--

Later, when you came to, you wiggled your fingers and toes first and slowly worked your way to moving each limb, assessing the soreness. There was an undeniable ache, but nothing you couldn't manage. You sat up in the bed and looked around the room, searching for Loki. Your eyes settled upon his familiar Asgardian form, huddled on the chair in the corner, as if he was putting as much distance as possible between the two of you without leaving you alone. His eyes were red, but not because of his Jotun blood. Because he had been crying.

"Loki, what's wrong?!" you frantically asked.

When he realized you were awake, he rushed to your side. "What's wrong? Love, look at what I've done to you!" He gestured to your body, to the bruises on your inner thighs, your hips, your wrists, your neck. He pointed to the mess between your thighs, to the bit of blood that was on the sheets between your legs. "I'm a monster. A vile, disgusting creature. I should have never let you do this!"

He looked away from you, ashamed.

You reached for his hand, in an effort to reassure him. "Loki, I wanted this. I wanted to help you. I insisted." Your thumb stroked the back of his hand in soothing circles, willing him to believe that you were okay. "And look! It worked. Your heat lasted only a few hours instead of weeks!"

"But at what cost?" He muttered, without meeting your gaze.

"I am your wife. We are a team, in everything. I vowed to be there for you and to love you no matter what, for better or for worse. A few bruises and some soreness are a small price to pay once a year if it means my husband isn't in agony for weeks at a time."

He sheepishly met your gaze then, peering up at you from under his eyelashes.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered softly.

"Yes you do. Because you are the most amazing person I know," you smiled easily as you said it. "Now, I did say we are a team, so if you're done sulking, I do believe it is your turn to do your part. Don't you have some magic healing powers that could soothe some of my aches, or am I misremembering?"

Now it was his turn to smile at you. He got to work straight away, a blanket of green seidr engulfing your body and buzzing through you, soothing away the worst of your residual pain. Then he spent the day spoiling you, running you a hot bath with your favorite rose scented bath oil, pampering you with a massage, and waiting on you hand and foot.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Loki?"

A wolfish grin crept across his lips. "When you've had a day or two to recover, I intend to make last night up to you, tenfold. To drown you in so much pleasure that the only word you'll remember is my name as it falls from your lips like a mantra."

You met his grin with your own cheeky smile. "And I intend to hold you to that, Laufeyson."

His lips met yours, then, in a passionate kiss; one that conveyed all the love and adoration he held for you. Your lover. Your husband. Your everything.

Spring was definitely your favorite season.

--

--

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested. No worries though if not, of course! @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @cheekyscamp @give-me-a-moose @sarahscribbles @gigglingtigger @ladyofthestayingpower @mischief2sarawr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsreacts @maple-seed @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @thomase1 @peachyjinx @superficialdomina @peaches1958 @evelyn-kingsley @simplyholl @tallseaweed @cake-writes @tripleyeeet @lokiandbuckysdoll @vbecker10 @lovelysizzlingbluebird

#rolling into spring writing challenge #beanie's double trouble sleepover #beanie's sleepover #spring writing challenge #milestone sleepover #loki #loki laufeyson #jotun loki #jotun loki x reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki imagine #loki fic

[praeluxius]

Trouble - NMIXX Haewon

male reader x nmixx haewon

5.5k words - [commissioned work]

masterlist - this is a follow-up to studious

There’s this thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

Haewon is most certainly trouble. The best kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that, while you know the possible consequences, she makes it all worth it. Anyone could have walked in on her riding you in that classroom, but at the time, you couldn’t have cared less.

***

Not a week later, you find yourself staring down trouble once again. What should have been a normal day at the beach with your friends became a chance encounter with the person you somehow wanted to see both the most and the least right now. 

There’s no denying the perks—some of them you spent the past hour admiring. But you can’t shake off the fear that she’s about to cause a scene. After all, you still haven’t found the right words to text her since that evening. Luckily, you had done a successful job of avoiding her until now.

As each minute of the past hour had passed, the tension seemed only to build as you waited for the girl sat only a few meters ahead of you to cause a scene. Your friends passed through a series of conversations you don’t really recall amidst the distraction. There was something about classes, someone’s brother, oh, and a brief mention of the rumour of two unnamed students getting it on in Mr Choi’s classroom—avoiding that conversation was for the best.

Haewon continues rotating through her repetitions. Picking up her phone and scrolling through social media for a while. Taking a drink from her bottle, with her usual habit of taking one small sip before a mouthful. And occasionally taking a short walk around.

You shouldn’t care, but you do. You can’t fight the frustration that she hasn’t spoken to you yet. Yes, you dread her confronting you, but it can’t be worse than being left in the cold. Not even a smile or a customary glance in your direction. It’s inconceivable that she simply hasn’t noticed you. Not even moments ago, she strutted right by where you are sitting. Her short jean shorts sitting at the very top of her thigh passed at eye level. Each step was accompanied by a sway of her hips and a ripple sent down her thighs.

Fuck. Just thinking about it again made your own shorts uncomfortable. Again.

It’s impossible to look away. Haewon has returned to relaxing on her lounger now. Although it looks like she changed the angle of it now and suddenly, as she sits with one leg outstretched and the other bent slightly, she gives you a perfect show.

It could all be a coincidence. Maybe she really hasn’t noticed you. She just happened to walk right by you, she just happened to adjust the angle of her lounger.

However, there is one thing you can be sure of with Haewon; everything she does has a purpose. 

You plant your feet into the burning sand and immediately pull them back, recoiling in pain. Better put your sliders on first, idiot. The way Haewon messed with your mind is dangerous, literally.

Aimlessly walking. Salty sea breeze against your face and through your hair. Uneasy footing on the soft sand. Eyes wandering. Down the length of the beach, then out to sea. The crashing waves—rhythmic chaos.

Contrasting the other chaos—that which has no rhythm and is completely unpredictable. That which is right behind you, her strides just a little longer than your own, closing the distance by which she tails you. You couldn’t even get a minute without this woman in your mind today.

“Need a moment to yourself?” It wasn’t a real question, nor an offer to give you one. Moreso a taunt from the lips of Haewon as she places herself by your side. 

“I’m just going to, um…” You look ahead and spot the public bathroom, which you are getting close to walking by. “The bathroom.”

“No… You’re just walking away because staring at me for the past hour is getting you a little hot under the collar.”

Haewon has a read on you like no other, and it’s far too uncomfortable. You don’t have a response to her unexpected intuition, instead choosing to grunt and continue walking, picking up the pace a little. 

Haewon catches up to you with a little skip in her step. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m sure no one noticed you getting hard. Putting your bag on your lap really helped cover it up.”

With sarcasm in her tone, she mocks you.

You take a moment to swallow that lump in your throat before replying, “that’s not what happened. I just wanted to—”

“Please. You’re going to pretend you haven’t been staring at me for the past hour?” 

“No—”

“So, someone else?” Haewon cuts you off again. “It’s that why you never texted me? You must be some kind of player.”

“There’s no one else, Haewon.”

“I knew it was me.”

She’s good. It’s like a chess game, and she’s moving all the right pieces—always putting you in check. There’s no surprise, though; it’s what she does. It’s what she has done to you before—the note in your locker, the timing, the place, her confident words.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet now, Haewon.” You turn away and divert into the thankfully empty single public toilet. You didn’t even need to use it, but it’s impossible to be played if you take all your pieces off the board.

You open the door and slip inside, not looking back at the girl you left on the sand. You pull the door closed behind you but come to a sudden stop when an arm reaches into the gap and stops you. Haewon’s head flicks left and right, scanning the immediate area, her shiny brunette locks flowing as they’re thrown side-to-side.

She slips into the small room with you, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock. Haewon hesitates to turn around, still facing the door. Silence fills the room for a few seconds, and you can’t help but explore her body with your eyes. Following her flowing hair down to her white crop top. One that you mentally praise heavily for the way it reveals her lower back. 

Head cocked back. Shoulders shifting. Her chest heaves as she forcefully expels a full breath. 

Haewon spins. Her back against the door. Palms open against it too. And behind the loose locks on her face are eyes shining with intent.

Maybe she feels like she’s winning—or already won. This could be checkmate and all that’s left is for you to knock over your king and concede. But you know the truth, and the sense of accomplishment can’t help but force a smile onto your lips. All the avoidance, the refusal to text her, and the distant admiring. The acting like the fool—the flustered young man—who dipped into a bathroom to escape her. Perfect bait.

Haewon steps away from the wall and moves a little closer to you. Okay, maybe all your avoidance wasn’t acting—she does have a way of throwing you off kilter—but at least some of it was. Now locked in this room with Haewon, the result couldn’t have been closer to what you wanted.

Last time it was all her plan. Actions she set in motion and entirely dictated.

However, now as Haewon pushes her slim fingers under the hem of her top and pulls it slowly overhead, she does so on neutral ground. Ground that gratefully accepts the item of clothing as she drops her shirt to the floor.

Your smile becomes a grin as you admire what she revealed. It’s almost a talent in its own right how she had perfectly constructed the scene under her top. She picked a piece of lingerie that was designed with a sole purpose; to show as much as possible without showing everything. The smallest patch of lace possible is placed directly over the nipple, and that was it bar the straps. Cleavage. Side-boob. Under-boob. The whole fucking boob on show.

Haewon takes another step forward. There are maybe two more until she’s up against you, and she seems intent on making each one count. Haewon slips her thumbs under the waistband of her short—really short—shorts.

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare.

Another test.

One of many where she thinks the only acceptable answer is silent awe. 

“Don’t stop.” Contradictory. Stern. Not a voice, in tone or content, that you’ve used with Haewon before.

Could be that, given the headstrong young woman she is, she hides it well, but your answer doesn’t break her composure and she forces her shorts away from her hips, letting them hit the floor in a similar fashion to her top. 

Although she has no smart remark to return, her actions do the talking as her structured performance continues. Another step, her hands snaking behind her back toward the clasp of her bra. As she plants her left foot, she pops it open—the fabric giving way to the two bundles beneath. Haewon brings her hands to her side, allowing the bra to fall from her body. It lands atop her shorts, still attached to her back foot. With one swift flick, both her shorts and her bra are sent into the corner of the room.

"You should smile like that more." 

Unknowingly, unwittingly, Haewon’s exposed body has drawn a smile across your face. You catch yourself and attempt to rein it in a little. However, it's easier said than done while you admire her porcelain skin, which looks so soft to the touch. The line of her waist and how her underwear perfectly accentuates the curve of her hips. And how her two perfect tits still held a perky fullness—looking like a perfect match for the cupped palm of your hands.

Haewon continues, “As much as I appreciate the brewing mystery behind your often blank face, that confident smile is much more exciting. It’s much more you.”

It was sudden, then. Caught off balance, even with your natural charm and wit—the initiative was never yours to take. But Haewon’s right. This time you’re honing in on something. Unearthing a side to you which can take the lead with confidence and a smile. A worthy opponent to her bravado.

"Then keep giving me reasons to smile."

"I'm giving you a reason to do a lot more right now." Haewon reaches out, places her hands on your shoulders and then runs one of them down to your chest. Her soft tones and slow movement contrast how she digs her nails into your skin through your shirt.

She's right. And it's outright foolish to even still be clothed right now. It's easily fixed. You pull the hem of your shirt upwards, and Haewon raises her hands to let it go by before planting them down—now against your bare skin.

"Better," Haewon whispers as she runs her eyes down your upper body. “Now. How about I…” She lets the words roll slowly off her tongue as she buckles one knee and slowly falls to the other.

“Wait.” Determined to have your own say on the pace of this encounter, you halt Haewon. A word accompanied by a hand wrapped around her nape. You pull back as you lean forward, taking her heart-shaped lips with your own. Capturing them with audible assertion, you engage her with gumption. It only lasts a moment before Haewon twists free and captures her breath. 

Inches apart, yet connected by a fine silk string of saliva. Lips not touching but still kissed with the heat of each other’s breath. Her eyes holding you in a grasp that her hands couldn’t manage. There’s no guarantee. This could be one of many times, or it could never happen again, so you can forgive yourself for enjoying the heat of this moment for a little.

“No more waiting,” Haewon snaps. Keeping her waiting almost feels criminal—though that’s nothing compared to what will come next.

She slips your grasp and retakes hold of the wheel, driving her way inside your shorts. In the blink of an eye, they’re by your ankles, and her delicate touch meets your delicate parts. Her fingers find their way over every part of your growing cock. She tickles, pulls, tugs and rolls it around in her touch.

“I missed this,” Haewon says under hot breath as she pulls her hands away, admiring your length with only her eyes.

“I missed you,” you confess. And not a word of a lie. How could anyone not miss this pretty girl with her perfect touch?

“Really?” Her expression half one of happiness and half unsure of your honesty.

“Really.” Your answer triggers Haewon’s next move. She positions herself dangerously close to your semi-erect cock, such that each breath kisses it with heat and forces a small twitch. With parted lips, Haewon’s tongue slips from her mouth and hooks it underneath the tip. But she doesn’t rest on her laurels, instead, she pulls her head upwards, her tongue lifting your cock upwards. She holds it there for a second, suspended in the air.

Haewon presses forwards, pursing her lips into a snug fit for the head of your cock. Retracting her tongue to guide you into her. It’s a swift move, one of elegance and precision that ends with most of your cock nestled into her mouth.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that her tongue has done its job, got you where you needed to be and then would take a rest. Alas, it simply begins the second part of its performance. It slides. It swirls. It wraps around your cock in patterns that seemed impossible. You glance down, Haewon has her eyes closed in pure concentration. 

She’s giving her everything, her whole fucking soul to one thing—

Your pleasure. 

What could be a minute—or could be more—passes. Time is a concept beyond your current comprehension. The whole world could be in reverse right now and Haewon’s swirling tongue would make you none the wiser. 

Haewon’s cheeks hollow as she sucks hard on your dick, accompanied by a backward movement of her head. With just her mouth, she pulls your hips forward until you’re forced to pull back to maintain balance. What went in is nothing compared to what came out. Haewon wipes away the spit running from her lips and admires it. Your cock stands stiff, smothered and dripping with saliva that reflects the light above.

“I really fucking missed it,” Haewon says, wrapping her hand around the shaft. “I need it.” She gives you every reason to be confident in yourself, and given how fixated her eyes are; you have every reason to believe her.

“What about you?” Haewon continues. “Did you miss this?”

Haewon keeps hold of you for balance, throwing her other hand behind her head and leaning backwards. Her knees on the floor, legs slightly open, with her thighs pressing down against her calves, accentuating their softness. 

"I really fucking missed it. I need it," You copy her, word for word, with the same playful tone.

“Of course you did. That’s so obvious.” Haewon speaks as she climbs to her feet. “So when are you going to stop fucking around?” 

With a wave of hair washing over your face, Haewon spins and steps back into you, then nestles her head back into your shoulder and her ass against your bare crotch.

“Do I have to keep throwing myself at you or are you going to take me?” She brings her hand to her face while she speaks and once she stops, drops a pool of saliva into her palm. 

“You’re such a red flag, Haewon.”

“That so?" She pauses for a moment to allow a pool of saliva to fall from her lips into the palm of her hand. "I guess I see it.” Haewon continues a conversation in parallel, yet unrelated, to her actions. Her hand finds your length again, adding to the copious fluids before placing it between her plump cheeks where just a thin piece of fabric prevents a happy accident. “What kind of girl just throws herself at someone in a classroom, then follows him into a toilet, right? What, do you think I do this to everyone?”

“I don’t know what to think, and that’s the red flag. What happened to a nice dinner and getting to know eachother?” 

She’s pushing down on your hips, making you lower your body, your cock sliding down against her pants until you go low enough for it to slip between her legs. A small nudge back and you’re stuck. Trapped on three sides, the tops of her thighs on either side and the sticky warmth in her underwear above.

“I think we're a little bit past that already, this is the real test of chemistry. Why waste time at dinner if you’re just going to disappoint after?”

“So that’s what this is, an evaluation? Should I expect a score after?” The words are difficult to force past your throat when your breath is hitching. All because she’s rocking now, with her hips. Slowly backwards before snapping forward again. Engulfed in her soft flesh, there’s a gentle pressure on your cock. Enabled by her spit, you are parting her thighs and pressing against her warmth each time she sets back.

“Satisfactory.” Blunt. Almost offensive. Effective. A challenge has been set. Haewon twists her neck, peering over her shoulder.

“Satisfactory?”

“What, you’re going to get all upset now?” Haewon grins and picks up her pace, sliding her pillowy thighs over your cock, and throwing her body against yours. The thin film of sweat on her back is a little sticky against your chest.

“Not exactly.” You bring your hands into the action, a firm grip on one of her hips, burying your fingers into her flesh and the other guiding your arm around her upper body—pacifying her movements. You unbend your knees and un-sink your hips.

You continue, “why don’t you tell me what it takes to excel?” All the while pushing yourself away from the wall, and you guide Haewon forward before directing her to the right-hand wall. You manipulate her like a puppet suspended from strings—if the strings were your arms and your stiff cock jammed against her soaked panties.

“I like someone who knows when to take—” Haewon is cut off as she braces herself for a collision against the sink and the mirror behind it. 

“—control.”

With a hand in the centre of her back, you create momentary separation. Enough to slide down to your knees. You face her milky ass, divided in the middle by jet-black fabric. It’s mostly easy to slide the soft lace away from her hips and down her legs. The bit between her legs is the last to give way, the sticky mix of her wet pussy and your saliva needing it to be peeled away from her smoothly-shaven skin.

“And?” you ask, looking up and her glistening eyes, which yet again peer over her shoulder.

“Someone who knows what they want and how to take it.” You know exactly what you want. It’s destiny. Destiny is a funny name for the lips of her cunt peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs.

"Ah!" Haewon yelps as her glistening, fair skin accepts you—engulfs you—as you dive face-first into her. A hold on her hips enables you to dig deeper, propelling your mouth toward her delectable pussy. You'll make her wait for your verbal response as your mouth gets to work, lapping up any moisture you can find on her plump lips. 

"F-fffuck." Haewon curses under her breath as your tongue pierces into the tight folds of her cunt. Her thick thighs and voluminous ass don't make it easy on you to bury your tongue into her. An impossible combination of firm and soft which would send any man into spiralling wonderment.

Haewon fights. Struggles. Doing so verbally. Uttering instructions which fall upon deaf ears. Physically. Reaching out behind her in desperate attempts to grasp your hair. Each time she has a hold, there’s a moment of pain before another wave of pleasure numbs her grip, and her digits fall helplessly through your locks.

It's clear that she's scrambling for answers, for as much as she baited—even gaslit—this response from you, she didn't really expect it. Not like this. Maybe in a way that she could easily wrestle back control. But likely not in a way that would result in her being subdued against a sink. 

Yet here you are. With hands exploring all the parts of her body you fantasise about. Eating her cunt with ravenous intent. You're giving her your all. Really fucking giving her it. 

Looking up past her plump cheeks that fill most of your vision, the result is clear to see. Long gone is the fight, the resistance, even that intense stare she gave you. Her arms don't reach for you but instead look to support her trembling body. Her head is thrown forward as it spills out utter gibberish via her mouth. Half-words and full-truths. You're so good. You manage to piece that one together from the three attempts she took at it. 

Pointless words really. All the vindication you need runs from your chin and drips to the tiled floor.

Time stood still, or it sped up—one of them. Either way, the concept of linearity is lost on you. Lost somewhere in the time you spent eating her cunt. Lost somewhere among the myriad of curves her body presents, admired with a caress of your gaze and rhythmic touch.

It's both a vindication of your efforts and a desperate plea for more, the way she uses her hands on the wall, the mirror, the sink, and anything she can grab to force herself back against your mouth. She's absolutely insatiable, but, so are you.

A moment later and you’re back up to your feet, prying Haewon from the sink and twisting her, so her shoulders press against the wall. Your body pressed against hers. Lips pressed against another pair, your face soaked in liquid does nothing to prevent Haewon from kissing you. She looks different now. Bright red and flustered, the heat radiating from her face burns at your cheeks like you got a little too close to a fire. 

Somewhere shuffled into a series of kisses are Haewon’s breathy words, “I’m going to fuck you now.” followed by a push on your shoulders, planting you against the wall. While Haewon wraps her arms over your shoulders and around your neck, her legs around your hips and to your back, your mind calls back her earlier words. Someone who knows what they want, and how to take it.

Haewon clings to you. Your frame is her only support, with both your hands on her ass, holding her just one swift movement away from your cock. She said she was going to fuck you, and she is trying. Really fucking trying. But it’s about what you want, and how you take it.

“No, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you now.”

Another moment passes and the pendulum swings again in your favour. She has nothing to fight back with and you easily propel yourself away from the wall and send the two of you crashing into the wall opposite, narrowly missing the hand dryer and thankfully doing no damage to the mirror you plant her against. You figure that it's inevitable, that you'll pay in some form for today's actions, but a fine for damaging a public restroom is at the bottom of the preferred list.

"Tell me Haewon, who's going to fuck who?" you query, but it's rhetorical. You aren't open to negotiation or delay. You take ownership of the moment, pressing yourself up against her. Your face buried in the crook of her neck, licking along her chin and grinding your body against hers. With an arm wrapped around her waist, you pull her close, feeling the warmth from her bare cunt against your thigh. Your lips quickly find hers and you take her in a brief but passionate kiss, then her neck again—ravaging what skin she has exposed with kisses, nibbles, and licks, driving her wild as she grinds against your leg.

"Look at you, Haewon. I'm gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" She can't answer, she's already so overwhelmed, so you continue, "I need to hear you say it," you mumble to her between kisses.

"Y-yes," she barely croaks out. "F-fuck me..."

And that was your cue. There's a certain energy surging through your veins as you practically pry Haewon from the wall. Legs still hooked around your waist, arms thrown over your shoulders, forehead to forehead. With your own strength and aid from gravity, she sinks.

As does your cock. Inside her warm cunt. Wrapped in the tightness, feeling her warmth surround you. Haewon leans her head back, pressing her head against the wall and exposing her neck to you, which you use as an invitation to assault with your tongue and your teeth. You start slowly thrusting upwards into her, forcing small thrusts, each one pushing your body up onto the tips of your toes before settling again. Each forward push causing her body to tense, back arching into your chest.

"G-g-god," is about all you get from Haewon while her face rolls forward, eyelids fluttering open for a moment. Hair now a tangled mess across her face, her lips remain parted. The breaths she lets out through them are hot, dry, and barely audible.

Rather than allow the wave of pleasure rolling down her body to subside, you pick up the pace. Feet almost stomping up into her now. Her head is empty, save for a few select words; my cunt, your dick, so big, fuck me, and finally, the all-too-expected, why'd you stop?

While moments before you were doing all the work and she was little more than a fleshlight hooked on your waist, you want more. Re-situating yourself, slipping an arm under her left leg, so it lays in the crux of your elbow. And the same with the right. It doesn't take long to step away from the wall, the added support from your arms ensuring she doesn't fall to the floor. But now the power really is in your hands and you pivot the two of you around.

On this edge, Haewon is both your burden and your liberation. Feet adjusting on the floor and back sliding against the slick tiles, an arm on the sink and a hand digging itself against your shoulder. Dangling from your lap, thrusting wildly against her pussy. Squeezing your cock.

A silent taunt, a threat, a promise.

Any of the above, or all of the above. It doesn't matter which one, what matters is how you feel.

Feeling words can't describe—well, words probably can, but you're incapable of stringing them together right now. With a grip like steel on the soft padding of her ass, you whisper, "gonna make you cum."

"I can't—not like this."

You don't take the bait. You never did, and you never will. Always something she needs, always something you have to put in or give up. Fuck that. It's your time to put all the effort in and pull some satisfaction out of her.

"Like this," you say sternly and she shoots you a look and you fire one right back.

Haewon bites her lip, then her body slackens, her arms relax, and the tension dissipates. A nod for you to proceed as you wish. Which you will.

You grip her, hands clasped behind her back. Haewon reaches out, a hand on the sink, a forearm on the dryer. It's far from elegant but it's damn sure effective as you redden her thighs with the rhythmic slap of your hips.

Her moans are stifled by the drool pooling down her chin as her eyes roll backwards. Climactic gurgles and pained breaths fill the room, which is only half covered by the rush of water from the sink's faucet. Somehow, someway, Haewon's helplessly suspended foot had hit it. Not that either of you care.

"Cum for me." Your hips show her no mercy as you slow and hold each thrust with deliberate depth. With every inch you have to offer penetrating her sweet cunt as your final bid to achieve victory in this battle of wills.

"Ugh! Fuck!"

You didn't think she could tighten any more, but she does. As a shudder washes down her body from head to toe, Haewon lets loose, coating your cock with fluid as she goes limp in your grasp. With her still in your arms, you sink, bringing her down with you. Your bare ass hits the tiled floor and it bucks your hips into her still-tense cunt. The friction of her hot, soaked inner walls rubbing up against your length causes a low groan to erupt from you.

There's a short span, a transient moment, where the two of you are just there. Quiet. Close. Eye-to-eye. Both are naked and one still coming down from a high while the other is still on the cusp of achieving it. Both are completely vulnerable, no cover or modesty. Just flesh and her impending words.

Your silence prompts her.

"W-what about you?"

"What about me?" You answer with a question, a smirk on your lips as you feel her loosening her tight grip on your cock.

"Ugh, do I have to tell you to cum?"

"Don't worry, Haewon." Your assurance has little weight behind it. It's a preface. A statement, yet unfinished. Your eyes stare longingly at her. A well-placed pause allows your mind to linger on the lusty gaze, parted lips, and complete ease with the proximity. It's a moment worth taking advantage of and savouring. And that's just what you do. You let time tick past a second. Another. Another. And then it's a sentence completed as you finish with the actual words, "I was going to cum whether you tell me or not."

Another sudden move. Pushing your thighs upward, so her rear is supported, and a firm grip on her shoulders pulls her face towards yours. She gets it. Or at least she complies enough to lift herself a little and free your stiff cock. You hold her in a kiss as she takes hold of your cock. Haewon firmly squeezes you in her palm and begins to stroke, almost clinically as she concentrates fully. Her wetness lubricated your shaft. She doesn't linger. Her touch is swift and not lacking in determination or precision. You're all hers, and you have been this whole time.

The truth is simple enough; the act is no different from the countless times you've thought about her after last time, and how many times you've helped yourself to sweet thoughts. It's all the same. She's a blurry mess in your memories; all of the little moments when she lingered in your mind. And it's all the same now. So easy, the motions her fingers force you through. Her touch is unchanging and full of vigour. You're more than confident she would be the same, regardless of what position or state the two of you were in. It's perfect and she's perfect and—

"Fuck," you curse under your breath, so taken aback by what just happened. It took over you, gripping every fibre of your being in a way that even now, it feels foreign and a little numbing. Your chest rises and falls, desperately trying to get as much air into your lungs.

Haewon flashes a smile, she knew. How could she not know? That's why it wasn't necessary to utter the word. Haewon lets herself sink back, lying between your legs. You look down at her. That flushed and sticky face. The tangled locks of her hair. The playful tongue perched on her lower lips and the grin behind it. Those eyes full of satisfaction observing her own body and the mess you made on her stomach.

That fucking smile.

She's all yours, and she has been this whole time.

***

You knew they were talking about it. Everyone in the whole damn building knew and it had only been a week.

The whispers of everyone you walked past tainted your ears. The eyes of passers-by and the stifled giggles of the stationary huddles. Word got out somehow and it was the next big thing. Sure it would pass in a week, but for now its was your name and Haewon's on everyone's lips.

If only they knew. If only they knew that right now you were heading to the locked library that Haewon had stolen the key for so you could fuck each other senseless while you skipped a class. Then they would really have something to talk about. Maybe she was the bad influence and not you. Or maybe you were a bad influence too.

Or maybe you were a good influence. That's the one that appealed to you. You have to admit, you were more attentive now. You found her more beautiful now than you had previously. You really did have an attraction. An affinity with her. It wasn't purely physical and that had to mean something. You didn't plan for this, but you're in it now.

That's the thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #nmixx smut #haewon smut #smut

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hi, I was wondering if you still accept requests because I read your Wonka fics and find them very cute and wanted to ask if I could also make a request. And that is that the reader has sleep problems and asks Willy finally what she can do about it as soon as she no longer knows what to do and he makes a certain chocolate for her so that she can sleep better again? (Something fluffy please) Thank you!

A sweet remedy [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

note: I'm sorry it took me so long, these weeks I was covering a full shift and with the holidays I barely had time to do anything, but I'm back now! And I hope you like it

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

While you were scrubbing one of the most difficult sheets you had had to wash during the day you felt your eyelids begin to close, at first little by little, and at times completely. It wasn't until you fell against the tub full of soapy water and stood up with a scream at the temperature that you realized you really had a problem.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Piper asked, immediately approaching while you struggled to keep the detergent from getting into your eyes and mouth.

“Yes, everything is fine,” you lied. Everyone had already gathered around you and shame was taking over your body. “I just… I slipped"

“Here's a towel,” said a familiar and loving voice, which belonged to your recent but quite dear friend.

Willy approached you and wrapped the towel around you, carefully, while he helped you clean your face. Once you could see more clearly you noticed that everyone seemed worried and you honestly didn't blame them. Your face reflected the lack of sleep you had had during the last few weeks, coming from a previously unknown cause. The only thing you knew was that the insomnia was literally killing you.

"Are you sure you are alright?" now Abacus murmured. You nodded again and smiled at everyone, imploring them to let the moment pass.

When you were dry enough you continued with your tasks, but you could feel your friend's dissatisfied gaze from across the room, as if he were the only one unwilling to ignore your recent strange behaviors: you were distracted, you seemed to leave mentally out of nowhere and this wasn't the first incident where you practically passed out on a dangerous surface.

At some point you had to carry a cart of sheets to the drying area and that's when he hurried to follow you.

“Let me help you,” he exclaimed, smiling in your direction as he held the cart you were pushing.

“I'm fine,” you said, to reassure him, because you knew that he had approached you to monitor your mood.

One by one you took out the sheets and began to put them in the dryer. The process would take a while, so you guys had a few minutes to chat, after all you knew the others wouldn't mind.

You leaned against the old machine, feeling the vibration on your lower back, and he did the same. The distance was so close that your hip was touching his, turning any conversation into a private one.

“Are you sick or something? We can get a doctor, if so”

“I'm sick, but I don't think it's that kind of illness,” you sighed.

"What do you mean?"

It was useless to keep hiding things from him, and who knows... that ingenious mind might even find a solution.

“I can't sleep, Willy. I don't understand why I can't, but I've had problems with that. I think it's called insomnia, or something like that” you began to explain, crossing your arms as if you wanted to protect yourself from the vulnerability “And it's horrible and it makes me feel stupid. I mean, who can't do something as easy as sleep?”

“Sometimes I don't get it either. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, I know, but…” you started moving your hands in the air, trying to find the right words to express yourself, “it's different. And I don't know what to do anymore, I can't sleep during the day because we work and I honestly feel like I'm going to collapse at any moment.”

Even though he was listening to you attentively, he didn't know how to respond for a moment.

“Do you think I look very bad?” you continued “You know, like… physically?”

“No, I think you look beautiful,” he replied, without thinking too much about it. “Maybe there's a little more pigmentation here…” his thumb slid under your eyes, in the place of your dark circles, and you smiled involuntarily “but nothing to worry about.”

You were reassured that you were still pretty in your friend's eyes, but you knew that the worried look on his face wasn’t in vain. You had to do something about it.

“Perhaps among your curiosities you have some chocolate that helps me sleep?” you joked, speaking only to the air.

But on his face you saw that expression of machination that suddenly emerged, almost as if a light bulb appeared over his head at the idea that was going through his head.

"Not yet. But it's an excellent idea."

“Oh, I wasn't serious…”

“But it’s brilliant,” he interrupted you. The dryer stopped and you knew the drying cycle was over, as should your conversation “Give me some time and you can sleep like a baby, I promise.”

That was perhaps his favorite thing: making promises. And of course, comply with them.

You wanted to answer him something, but a yawn preceded you and the man simply laughed at the irony of the moment.

“I guess I can't refuse now, can I?”

“As soon as I manage to do it, you will have it in your hands,” he said, excited.

With that the talk ended and you began to hang the clothes on a rope, returning to the day's work, but now with a better spirit in the hope that Willy could help you get what you wanted so much.

"Special delivery?" someone knocked on your door. You were like every night, just curled up in bed to hope for the best.

Willy was holding a small purple box with a red bow, which judging by the excited smile your friend had, you assumed was the remedy for your illness.

"It will work?"

“I hope so,” he said, entering your room to sit next to you on the mattress. “I'll stay here for a few minutes to make sure you can sleep and then I'll leave, is that okay with you?”

“It's excellent,” you answered nervously, while you took the candy that your friend had made especially for you. It was shaped like a small moon and glowed inside. “What is it made of?”

“I'll tell you in the morning, when you wake up.”

His feet moved slightly, showing his excitement, and that seemed to rub off on you. Glory seemed so close and you could reach it with a couple of bites, but before that you leaned down to wrap the boy in a hug.

“Thank you for trying this for me. I know it will work, but… even if it doesn't work, you know I appreciate it.”

“Don't say that, it will work” he replied, with complete confidence.

Without further ado, you put the candy in your mouth and tasted it. You couldn't identify any ingredients, but it tasted delicious and cozy, somehow. Although you wanted to compliment your friend's work just a second after the candy had melted on your tongue, you were already feeling how everything around you was becoming heavy, as if the accumulated fatigue had hit you suddenly.

You were already unconscious when Willy trapped you in his arms and laid you carefully on the bed, completely happy to see that his creation had had such an immediate effect. As a farewell, he covered you with a sheet and kissed your forehead, going to his room to recreate an entire jar of chocolates that would ensure your rest for long enough.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

[finelinevogue]

the eras

summary - harry is the best boyfriend ever and not just because he has taylor swifts number

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - ~1k

.’•*,.’>*,~<\*•,.-:’•.~_,*^;-.•*

“Hey babe.” You answered the phone whilst you wandered down the bakery aisle at Tescos.

Friday night was always grocery shopping night. The end of a week, beginning the weekend a fresh.

“Hey.” Harry answered.

“You okay? Need anything?”

“No, uh, you put cereal bars on the list right?”

“Yeah. I got ‘em. Where are you?”

“I’m just leaving Gem’s now. I’ll be home just before you I think.” He coughed out.

“Okay.” You said reaching for a loaf of whole grain bread, because Harry doesn’t care for white bread and you refuse to eat bread with seeds in.

“Need to ask y’something though.” He cleared his throat, which got you listening carefully.

“Right…”

You walked down the crockery aisle, because you cannot help yourself when it comes to an eclectic mug collection. You see a new, cool, mug? You buy it. There’s no other option.

As you pondered over whether any of the mugs took your fancy, Harry continued talking.

“So I spoke to someone today.”

“Uh… Congratulations?” You laughed out nervously, making a joke in a weird situation.

“You wanna know who?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Taylor.”

No second name was needed.

It was obvious who he meant.

You stopped reaching for a mug and instead stood still. You couldn’t move for a brief second, until you remembered you were in public and thought that being a statue might be a bit odd.

You placed the basket filled with groceries on the floor and pushed your hand back through your hair to ground you.

“Okay.”

“And she’s offered me - us - something.”

“Am I going to to get jealous? ‘Cause you know how much of a power couple you two made.” You giggled nervously.

“There’s too much to unpack there for a phone conversation, but no you won’t get jealous. Well, I mean, maybe you will I don’t really know what goes on in your head someti–”

“Harry!” You paused him.

“Taylor’s given us free Era’s tour tickets.”

You gasped a little bit.

Well, a lot. So much so that the people around you stopped to watch you, thinking something was wrong with the aisle or the mugs.

“Fuck off.” You cupped your hand over your mouth.

“Yeah, for London. Said we can come to all of them, or just one and whichever date.”

“No, babe, stop. You’re fucking lying.” Your eye’s watered.

Harry knew how much of a Swiftie you were. Like BIG time. You’d been a fan for a very long time. Through all the hate and all the drama, you had been there. Harry was even saved in your phone as ‘Taylor’s Ex’ as a period of time - as a healthy joke between the two of you.

You had a TikTok that was dedicated to being a fan, but it was mostly filled with you reacting to Taylor content or filming a series of videos where you rated Harry’s outfits - even though you’re with him when he’s getting dressed in a morning.

To not only get to go to the Eras tour, but to be invited by Taylor herself… Well. World ended.

“No, it’s real. Promise.” Harry laughed to himself, imagining you right now.

A few tears ran down your cheeks.

“Fuck. This is so embarrassing.” You laughed, wiping your nose and sniffling. “I’m literally crying on the mugs aisle.”

“Y/N, baby, we don’t need anymore mugs!” Harry laughed more.

“Shut up, yes we do. Wait. Is this real?”

“It is, my love. You’re going to the Eras tour.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles boyfriend fic #harry styles eras #harry styles taylor swift

[eveninggstar]

can I request a fic where reader and Jake go to the beach and he rough houses with her and they just have fun?

Beach Day

Summary: you and your boyfriend, Jake, go to the beach on a whim.

(requested)

Warnings: fluff, slight sexual innuendo;), beach fun time, kissing, reader has hair that can be flicked passed shoulders, readers looks not specified,reader intended to be female,no use of y/n

A/N: pretty cute request by anonymous tysm! Hope you enjoy it. Also tysm for all the love on my first Jake Webber fic (I just wrote it off handedly didn’t expect the love it got)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When an outsider looked at you and your boyfriend, Jake, it wouldn't be hard to tell that you were irresistibly in love with each other. With being a youtuber, he had a more upbeat personality and was a kind soul. Luckily enough for you, all of those attributes translated into off-camera Jake.

Today, you had suggested to take a day off and just chill at the beach in the hot, June weather. Jake, as always, immediately agreed.

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, you were blasting a song to get you ready for the beach. The windows were all rolled down, giving you the perfect breeze-as Jake went slightly over the speed limit. You were wearing khaki green shorts over your bikini bottoms and left your bikini top out. At the exposed part of your legs, your left thigh was currently being grasped by Jake with the occasional squeeze.

Finally, you arrived at the beach. You took the liberty on picking up the small bag that held all of the essentials, yet you had a loving and caring boyfriend.

"Excuse me," Jake interrupted your actions, pursing his lips with his eye brows raised and a open and closing hand. "That's my job." He then accompanied his faux irritation with a hand on his hip.

"Oh i'm so terribly sorry, how can i ever get your forgiveness?" You rolled your eyes as you hauled the bag with two hands into Jake's one hand. Obviously he lifted it with ease.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it sweetie." He jokingly glared at you, then (quite literally) strutted off with his hips swaying.

"Please, i'll do anything!" You begged, your voice going more breathy as you continued. Luckily no one was at the car park that overlooked the fresh waters. At the sound of your begging Jake stopped and slowly turned towards you, with a dark sultry look.

He walked closer to you, readjusting the bag, "Anything?" He questioned and brushed your hair behind your shoulders. The deep sultry voice he had matched the way he looked at you. The quick fleeting brush of his calloused skin against your bare shoulders ignited sparks beneath your skin.

You bit your lip and nodded as you looked up at him. Hopefully this conversation will go the direction you were hoping. Jake leaned in close to your face, noses side by side and lips millimetres away. "Will you play mermaids?"

The tingly feeling that Jake gave you had almost distracted you from the absurd question. "Yeah-Wait what?" You pulled a face as he started to giggle in a childish manner.

"I love you~"He dragged out, pouting his lips ready for a kiss. You left him hanging for a few seconds, before he realised you weren't going to kiss him. "Fine!" He sassily exclaimed before reaching down to your knees and flipped you over so your front was down his back.

After setting up everything, you both took the time to rest together. It had been a stressful weak. Jake seemingly recorded everyday and it drained him the slightest, whilst you had the title of being the pretty girlfriend weighing on your back.

Your sunbathing was interrupted by Jake with a bucket and spade in his hands with a cheeky smile. Opening your eyes, you saw that Jake was practically buzzing to do something.

"Yes, Jake?" You pushed yourself into a sitting position.

"So, i was wondering if-" he started swaying side to side, "We could build sandcastles..." he stopped swaying as he looked at you.

You paused, a finger on your chin, "Um..." he dropped to his knees, being level with your lying figure and brought his hands up in a prayer motion. "Of course, baby!" you smiled and brought him in for a quick kiss.

"Awww, yow know how tow make a girl blush!" He smiled with his country accent and his cheeks having a slight pink hue to them as he flicked his wrist at you.

After building sandcastles, and apparently making homes for the multiple crabs Jake has miraculously found, you and Jake headed for the sea.

This is wear Jake's attitude flipped. Suddenly the sweet, patient boyfroend you had gotten used to today had gotten bored. Now you had a funny, erratic boyfriend! But he was still sweet.

You suggested that the two of you could jump the waves. Jake seemingly enjoyed this idea, only that he had started to go deeper into the sea with you. You had sat down in the deeper waters and began to play with the sand beneath your fingers.

Realising Jake had been quiet for an awfully long time, you looked around for the black haired boy. After looking around three, even four, times you began to worry.

Jake wasn't the strongest if swimmers, only elevating your concerns. You repeatedly started yelling 'Jake' hoping he would hear, answer, and be okay.

Your worried calls were interrupted by you getting lifted out of the water and being spun around. Looking to your side, you saw Jake’s shaggy black hair drenched in water. He set you down and held your hands and swayed them.

“Hi.” Jake smiled, the golden hour shine perfectly accentuated his perfect smile. He squinted a little because of the sun, yet still looking perfect.

“Hi,” you reciprocated the smile, hopefully giving Jake the same feeling that you felt beneath your skin every time he smiled, kissed, or even looked at you.

He pulled you into his wet chest, holding you close as the two of you looked out into the sunset. His chest vibrates as he said something, you were too caught up in looking at the pink to blue in the sky to realise what he said.

You lifted your head up and furrowed your brows. He leant to your eye level, not breaking eye contact. “I love you.”

The feeling was back. The feeling a young school girl would get with their crush, but you weren’t a school girl with her crush. You had found the love of your life .

1012 words

#jake webber #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x you #jake webber x reader