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acescavern · 8 months

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OPERATION RIZZ - NA JAEMIN

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EDITED NOTE: I just want to thank you all so so much for the love you've shown this fic! to celebrate, check out the early release of End To Start!

Pairing: Na Jaemin x fem!reader (Ft. Yangyang, Haechan, Johnny, Jeno, and mentions of other nct members, nct dream are the friend group, the Jeno and his girlfriend mentioned are the same pairings from Quiet and Game over!)

Genre: Fluff, angst, humor, college au nct,

Synopsis: In an attempt to teach Donghyuck how to get a girlfriend, Jaemin helps him make a list only... that list seems awfully familiar.

wc: 7.8k ( my longest fic yet, I have perished.)

warnings: reference to the sexual activity that happened in Game Over between Jeno and his girlfriend, Mentions of smoking a joint at a frat party but no detailed usage and not by the two mc, Alcohol, Drunk reader, swearing, cringe pick up lines, reader, and Jaemin play the horror game 'the quarry' but no spoilers, timeline jumps a bit but I'm certain it's still understandable, mentions of harsh pranks being pulled by readers previous roommates, hints at previous roommates being bullies to the reader.

A/N: Hi, my lovelies. This fic was a wild ride, I'm telling you. I'm still not satisfied with the header but we move ig. This took me five-ish days I think, mainly cause I left it for at least three of those. I honestly hope you love this as much as I do. If I have missed any warnings please let me know! @sexygrass you asked me to tag you in the finished product! here you are,

Feel free to send me asks to talk about the fic, I love talking about fic characters.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

It was a funny thing to watch Donghyuck fail miserably. It was even funnier to watch the brightly colored cocktail drip from the ends of his hair, soaking into his pristine white t-shirt. To Jaemin, it was the best entertainment in the world to watch his friend flirt terribly. There was a reason Jisung called him bitchless. Not to doom any potential girl Donghyuck could end up with, but the guy was just a walking beacon of cringe pickup lines.

Like tonight. Jaemin had watched from his spot perched on a barstool a few seats away as his friend confidently walked up to the bar. He’d internally winced as Donghyuck had added his own drink to the girl’s tab and he’d tried so hard to still his facial features when the said drink was promptly tipped over his head following the line he gave. “You owe me a drink, I dropped mine when I looked at you.”

It was safe to say that the man crashed, burned, and disintegrated. Jaemin couldn’t hold his laughter for long, barely able to set his drink down on the bar without spilling it before the howls of laughter racked through his body. He felt a hand slap down on his shoulder, the sounds of Yangyang’s own hysterical laughter hitting his ears.

“It’s not funny! Look at my shirt!” Donghyuck growled in annoyance, fingers plucking the wet material away from his skin. “I’m going to clean up...”

The man moved to brush past his two friends, Yangyang stilling his laughter long enough to reach out and grasp his sleeve. “I wouldn’t, Restrooms occupied.” He straightened from his hunched-over position, his voice strained from holding in further laughter. “Think Jeno’s trying to one-up over Jaehyun, dragged his girl in there and locked the door about twenty minutes or so ago.”

“For fuck sake!” He whined, foot kicking at a leg of Jaemin’s bar stool.

Jaemin stood, finally able to keep his laughter at bay. “What did you expect? He literally dragged us here in a fit of jealous rage.” He scoffed light-heartedly, slinging an arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s just go home - Yang, you crashing at Hyuck’s too?” Jaemin craned his neck to catch his fellow 00’ liner’s answer.

Yangyang shrugged in acceptance of the offer, slinging his own arm over Hyuck’s other shoulder.

“So,” Hyuck began, pausing to slurp some of his McDonald’s strawberry milkshake through the disintegrating paper straw. “You’re telling me that my lines don’t work at all?”

Yangyang and Jaemin gave a pointed look to each other, almost as if trying to decide who should be the bearer of bad news. Jaemin gave a slight sigh, his mouth poised ready to talk but his brain still trying to come up with an answer.

“It’s just … You’ve got no rizz” He let the statement hang in the air, chewing into his cheek as Donghyuck blanched at the blunt statement.

“And you have?” He jeered in defense, chuckling in amusement.

“Dude, he’s the rizzler.” Yangyang piped in, the amused grin on his face broadening. “Jaemin’s got effortless rizz and he doesn’t even try.”

Jaemin was startled when his friend threw himself over his lap with a drawn-out dramatic cry. “Then help me!” He pleaded, loosely gripping Jaemin’s collar to shake him.

“Christ! Okay, Okay!” He gave in pretty quickly, shoving Donghyuck off of him with a little effort.

Jaemin shook his head at Hyuck’s antics, Yangyang laughing along with him. No words were spoken for a few moments until the latter made an announcement.

“Let Operation Rizz commence.”

Over the course of the next ten minutes, the two made Donghyuck write down his own step-by-step guide how to get a date.

Jaemin plucked the notepad from his friends' fingers, reading through them with a grimace of distaste.

"Step one is wink?" He read off in disbelief, nearly choking on air when he read step two. "Flirt with her best friend. Are you insane?"

He snatched the pen from Hyuck, ripping the list out of the book and scrunching it Into a ball.”We’ll rewrite it.”

"That's what the Buzzfeed article said to do!" That comment alone earned him a paper ball to the head.

"You need to practice and observe." Yangyang was right, it would be handy to have an actual female to be a 'test subject' as it were.

"But who? The only girls Hyuck know hate him and the only girl I kno–" Jaemin's words stopped dead as he caught onto what his friend was hinting at. "Absolutely not. ____, would never agree to this."

At least Jaemin hoped his roommate would be repulsed enough by the idea to call him crazy and move on.

The thing is, Jaemin had been a little selfish when it came to you. He had very rarely invited you to hang with any of his friends, not that he had to — you were purely roommates who had the same computer science class. That was how you met him. Jaemin had rocked up to class, late and unbothered. It was you who caught onto his small tales of anxiety when he struggled to catch up, wordlessly sliding your notes on the previous few slides onto his desk.

STEP ONE: BEFRIEND

After the lesson had ended and various students began to pile out of the door, you slowly started to pack up your things. A throat being cleared gained your attention, Jaemin looking at you sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks for that." A smile of chagrin directed toward you. “I thought I could catch up but Mr. Kim just goes so fast.”

You chuckled, pinching your notes from the table to put them in your bag, zipping it up, and turning toward your classmate. “Next time, don’t be late.” Jaemin was drawn to the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you granted him a grin. “It’s my turn to be late next class.”

True to your word, at 8:45 am the following Thursday, you snuck into the back of the class. You looked disheveled and half-dead to your fellow classmates. You didn’t want the unwanted attention that was sure to be drawn to you if you scrambled down to a vacant seat at the front, instead, you slipped into the closest empty seat on the back row.

You tried to make as minimal noise as possible when taking your things out of your backpack and you were so preoccupied with the action that you almost jumped when a few sheets of paper were slipped wordlessly onto your desk from the seat next to you.

The two of you fell into an unspoken routine this way. Jaemin would take notes for you to copy if you were late and vice versa, an unspoken rule being you took turns being late. For you, this wasn’t a problem. You were rarely late, something Jaemin noticed when he was hurriedly yanking on his jeans in an attempt to leave on time. He had secretly cursed you at that moment. Jaemin couldn’t be late, it wasn’t his turn and the rule was unspoken.

The next time you were late, you were very late. Jaemin had honestly thought you weren’t coming, his eyeline drifted to the door on multiple occasions. An odd feeling of disappointment settled in his chest. You had become the highlight of his day, Jaemin found himself looking forward to his computer science classes for once.

When you did finally turn up and slip into the seat next to him, he noticed you didn’t even make a move to remove your things from your backpack. You just stared straight ahead, hair drenched from the horrible weather outside and unshed tears pooling at your waterline.

One look at you and Jaemin’s teasing expression faded. He set his pen down, angling his body toward your seat. “Are you okay?” Jaemin almost slapped himself, it was obvious you weren’t.

You raised the damp sleeve of your sweater to wipe at your face, “Sorry I’m late, Jaemin.” Your voice was raw and croaky, he was sure you were going to get sick. “I slept in my car.”

The male blanched, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Jaemin was sensitive enough to keep his voice low and careful, trying to coax the answers to his many questions from you. “Why, What happened?”

You sniffled quietly, fighting the urge to curl into yourself and hide. “My housemates locked me out again.” Jaemin’s expression softened, his hand reaching over to tuck your wet hair behind your ear. “Then my car broke down on the way to campus.”

Jaemin had heard about how your housemates were. You’d ranted to him in many lessons about what they were like. The only reason you were all housed together was through the private landlord student accommodation scheme set up for students who didn’t want the dormitory life.

He knew full well that it was a popular-eat-nerd food chain out there and he was grateful his grandma paid his rent for him - Always grandma’s favorite boy. It only took a few more of those incidents for Jaemin to offer his precious games room. He proposed a very convincing argument.

“Look, It’s a steal!” He exclaimed, “No rent and we just split the rest of the utilities and grocery costs, your own room, closer to campus, and me!” Jaemin flashed you his pearly whites at his winning argument.

“I can’t just take up your space like that, Jaemin.” You sighed, as much of an amazing offer it was… You didn’t want it out of pity.

“We’ll probably barely see each other! We can split the chores and work something out.”

It was safe to say you ended up caving into the offer. Any college student would snatch up the deal of accommodation with no rental costs.

Jaemin sat open-mouthed as you bobbed your head in agreement with the idea. “Hm, Yang’s right. I’m the only girl you know that won’t get violent when Hyuck acts like a douche.” You sat back in your chair, swiping Jaemin’s iced coffee from the table and taking a sip through the straw.

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered, “Hyuck gets attached, clingy. What if he likes you?” Jaemin’s worries were irrelevant to everyone else but him.

Jaemin didn’t like the idea of Donghyuck catching feelings but he supposed he may be acting on possessive instinct. He shook his head, avoiding the look Yangyang was giving him. It was like the guy was trying to analyze his expressions and read his mind. He felt momentarily exposed.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” You snickered, “Donghyuck, sit.”

Hyuck brushed off his barista apron, shoving his order pad into one of the large pockets in the front as he sat at the vacant chair at the table. You sat up from your slouched position in your chair, sliding Jaemin’s coffee back over to him - the cup being halfway empty by now.

“Show me what you got.” You tapped the table with your hand.

You, Jaemin, and Yangyang watched as Hyuck ran a hand through his hair, his left eye dropping into a wink that could only be described as cringe when he leaned forward toward you. “Are you a transformer?” He paused a moment, long enough to give an over-exaggerated lip bite, his flirty gaze running up and down your torso. “ ‘Cause you’re Optimus fin-” His confidence was harshly broken as you mocked the sound of a loud buzzer.

“Pickup lines don’t work anymore, Dude.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “That was- …. I don’t actually have words for how bad that truly was.” Donghyuck’s face fell.

“Technically, we’re skipping step one because you already kind of know ____. So, step one is ‘befriend’. If she was a stranger you’d have just failed miserably.” Jaemin said to his friend, lifting his coffee to inspect the cup of the missing liquid.

“Alright, What’s step two?” Hyuck shrugged, looking expectantly at his friends.

STEP TWO: GET TO KNOW

Back when you had first moved in with Jaemin, the two of you were more than awkward. It felt odd for each of you to see each other in your most vulnerable states. At home. In class things were different, that was a side of you that prepared to go out and face the day, a social mask slipping in place.

It took just one instance to get over the hurdle of timidness between you both. One Saturday, Jaemin had just gotten back with the groceries, the list crumpled in one of the bags he was hefting. You were leaning against the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug of coffee - specifically a Chocolate Mocha from a sachet - cupped in your hands.

Once all of the bags were strewn over the kitchen counter and the floor surrounding the fridge, you set your mug in the sink and began helping.

“Oh, no way!” You gasped, holding up the box of frozen desserts. “Two-ball-screwballs?” Jaemin looked up from shoving frozen food into the freezer drawers, a surprised smile on his face.

“Yeah! My mom used to get them for me every Friday after school.” He shut the drawer he was working on.

“I thought they were discontinued!” You gushed, tearing open the box and removing the cone-shaped cup. “I love these.”

Jaemin’s shoulders perked, his eyes brightening. “You’re kidding! My friends think they’re low tier.” He took the box from you, removing one of the plastic cones for himself and putting the rest into the freezer to save them from melting.

“Low tier? Your friends are low tier.” You scoffed jokingly, peeling off the top.

Jaemin rose to his feet, accepting the teaspoon you offered to him. “I’ll pay you ten to say that to Chenle’s face.” He chuckled, diving his spoon into the red cherry slush.

“What other gems are you hiding?” You questioned, spoon hanging from your mouth as you began to finish off the groceries with your free hand.

“Depends, do you like video games?” Jaemin lifted himself to perch on the breakfast bar.

“I like watching people play them,” You cast a glance back at your roommate. “I don’t have the hand-eye coordination for them.”

Jaemin hummed in thought, his gaze locked onto the dessert in his hand. “If I set up in the living room, do you wanna, maybe, watch me play?” He offered, discreetly peering up at you without lifting his head.

He watched you ponder over the idea a moment before nodding, “Sure.”

That night, you and Jaemin settled onto the couch with the controller firmly in his hand. You stared at the opening game screen ‘The Quarry’ glitching back at you. Jaemin had promised you that this wasn’t so much of a fast-paced game and more of a multiple choice.

“It’s a horror game-” He caught the look of unease on your face. “But it’s not that bad! It’s like a movie but you choose what happens and each option you choose alters the game path. It’s really cool!” The look on his face, as he describes one of his favorite games, will forever be your favorite expression on him.

His eyes light with excitement, and the controller drops to his lap as he uses elaborate hand gestures to explain the concept to you. There’s a feeling deep down that you want him to look like that whilst talking about you. But, that’s stupid, right? You’d only known him a few months at that point.

“Can you turn the subtitles on? I can’t hear a thing without them.” You nudged him with your elbow, prompting Jaemin to stare at you in amusement.

“If I wanted to read a book, I would.” He quipped, still navigating the settings to turn them on for you regardless.

You were only on the first chapter of the game and somehow you’d ended up scrunched up into Jaemin’s side, all awkwardness from before long gone. “No no! Don’t go down there, That’s just stupid!” You shouted, peeking up from his shoulder.

“____,” Jaemin laughed, “We have to, it’s the gameplay. We gotta follow Max into the cellar.” A hand left his controller to pat the top of your head.

You were both late for class the next day.

“Get to know them? How long will this take?” Donghyuck complained, a pout playing at his lips.

He wasn’t a patient man and quite honestly, this was taking longer than he had thought. You cast him a sharp look. “Hyuck, you said you wanted a girlfriend. A lot of work goes into the buildup.”

“Can’t you just date me and then I don’t have to get to know anyone?” He huffed, letting his forehead drop to the table.

His question earned him two abrupt shouts of “No!” Both Yangyang and you exchanged slightly shocked looks at how quickly Jaemin said it along with you.

“Ugh! Fine, so, I get to know them.” Donghyuck lifted his head. “Do I have to ask questions?”

A mumbled ‘He’s hopeless’ under your breath had you receiving two kicks under the table as Jaemin responded to the question. “Yeah, Ask about her hobbies, and family, know the basics, and find a niche to get into deeper conversation.”

“Noted. So, find things in common, then?” Hyuck voiced the question with slight uncertainty.

You grinned, tapping his arm to reward him. “Yeah, exactly!” You studied him a moment, face scrunched in thought. “Say… Hyuck, is there someone in specific you’ve got your eye on?” You questioned.

Hyuck laughed nervously, the three sets of eyes staring at him intently making him slightly nervous. See, Donghyuck always had an obvious tell when he was hiding something. First, eye contact became nonexistent. Then, he would over-blink, his friends joked that he’d take off if he blinked too fast. Lastly, the incoherent defense. Hyuck was doing all of those things.

“Do we need to teach you to lie as well?” Yangyang teased, jabbing his friend in the side.

“Speak for yourself, I don’t lie.” You spoke, pretending to inspect your nails until Jaemin’s snort of laughter cut across the table to you.

“Yeah, right. ____, who ate the last two-ball screwball?” He quipped, an eyebrow raised in challenge at you.

“Uhm, Luna.” It wasn’t Jaemin’s cat.

STEP THREE: GESTURES OF KINDNESS

It was rare for you to go out with your friends. It was rare for you to get drunk, too. You had declined an invitation to the neo-frat party for months, much to the disappointment of your friend. It was after four months of living with Jaemin that you found out he was going, only then did you finally accept the next invitation you received.

You’d spent all afternoon following your friends around the shopping plaza to find the right outfit. Your outfit was at your friends' house, you didn’t see the need to overdress for drinking in a stuffy frat house full of sweaty college kids.

The first glimpse of you Jaemin had caught that day was an hour into the party, the frat house in full swing. He’d been roped in to help set up, his friend Mark being a part of it and Hyuck being heavily involved. Jaemin had been looking for you all night and when he finally caught you, you were talking to Johnny.

Jaemin felt unsettled, though he had no choice who you spoke to. He kept glancing at you, hand gripping the solo cup tighter in his hand the more you laughed at Johnny’s jokes. You’d been drinking, that much was clear. Your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes slightly glazed with intoxication, Jaemin had caught onto how you swayed subtly on the spot, your hand gestures over-exaggerated, and your giggles that seemed to happen at everything Johnny said.

Jaemin’s gaze tore away from you when a hand waved in front of his face, his mind catching up with reality when he saw his best friend. “Jeno, sorry, didn’t hear you.”

Jeno gave his friend a knowing look, shaking his head. “You were staring, if you like her then tell her.” He shrugged, lifting his beer bottle to his lips to take a swig.

Jaemin frowned, his eyeline drawn to you once more as he shook his head. “It’s a bad idea, we live together.” As much as he hated to admit it, Jaemin wondered if inviting you to live with him was a mistake for this reason. “It’d be awkward if it didn’t work out, Jen.”

It’d taken Jaemin only one month of living with you to come to the conclusion that he was slowly becoming head over heels infatuated with you. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was love yet, but Jaemin knew you made him feel things that were an entirely new experience.

“If you’re so headstrong on it, make me a bet.” Jaemin’s attention was stolen away from you once more, his eyebrows scrunched in an expression that told Jeno that he wasn’t really listening at all. “If you end up dating by… let's say, the end of the academic year, then you have to get a tattoo.”

Jaemin gulped slightly, he wasn’t a fan of needles. But he was so sure he would be able to resist you. “Fine, if we don’t, you’ve got to get one. In a place of my choosing.” Jaemin mastered a grin, shaking Jeno’s hand to seal the deal.

When Jaemin turned back around, you or Johnny were nowhere to be seen. His mind’s implication of what it meant had his heart dropping into his stomach. He bitterly shook his head, downing the rest of the ‘special punch’ in his cup.

Jaemin went on with the party, utterly miserable at the thought of you holed up in one of the various upstairs bedrooms with Johnny. Of all people. You had to choose the biggest player out there. It was almost like Jaemin was walking around with his own cloud of self-loathing thundering over his head.

He’d thrown himself onto one of the lawn chairs that surrounded the outdoor pool, running a hand over his face. However, he soon froze when he spotted Johnny. The frat member was with Jaehyun and the frat leader, Taeyong. Jaemin noticed the absence of you immediately and it had him springing up from his seat with a slight stumble. Jaemin wasn’t drunk, he was just bordering the line between tipsy and lightly mellow.

Jaemin tapped urgently on Johnny’s shoulder, the older male turning to him with a doped-up smile. Johnny removed the joint from his mouth, offering it out to Jaemin with a hazed blink. “Where’s ____?” Was his immediate response.

Confusion clouded the elder's face for a moment before he laughed loudly. “Man, she’s wasted!” Jaemin gritted his teeth as a bout of smoke wafted in front of his face.

“Yeah, good to know.” He rushed out in exasperation. “Where?” Johnny’s smile dropped as he shrugged.

“Last I knew, she was asleep on the stairs.” Jaemin didn’t wait for any further explanation, bolting it back inside the house and to the sweeping staircase near the front door.

Sure enough, that’s where he found you. Your lips set into an adorable pout from where your head had hung in your slumber. Jaemin was certain that your neck would hurt in the morning if he didn’t take you home. Though, looking at you… Jaemin couldn’t fight the fond chuckle escaping him.

He knelt down at the bottom step, lifting his hand to gently sweep your hair back. His lips pursed as he took in the state of you, fingers tugging your t-shirt dress down your thighs from where it had risen in an attempt to shield your modesty. He squeezed your knee.

“____,” He called to you gently, a hand on your shoulder to lightly shake you awake. “____, c’mon. I’m taking you home.”

A groan left your closed lips, your body attempting to twist to the side as if you were casually rolling over in the comfort of your bed. Jaemin wouldn’t let you, firmly shaking your shoulder again. He sighed in relief when your eyes finally opened, squinting at the light.

“There she is.” He grinned, both hands moving to your cheeks to steady your lolling head.

Jaemin honestly couldn't help but grin in return for the drunk smile you gave him. It was like you were suddenly sprung with energy. “Jaemin!” You launched forward, both arms wrapping tight around his neck.

His hands had to settle on your back to stop you both from toppling over. Your roommate coaxed you to stand, brushing down the crumbs and dirt from your dress. Jaemin made you lean on the wall as he unzipped his hoodie and tied it around your waist.

“Okay, I need you to hold onto my neck… but not strangle me. You got that, ____?” He spoke slowly as if talking to a child because Jaemin had come to realize that’s exactly how drunk you were.

He left you on the second step, crouching down and patting his shoulder. It was embarrassing how many attempts it took to get you securely on Jaemin’s back but eventually, you succeeded in the climb.

The man carried you all the way across the campus and into the blocks of student housing like this. The whole way you were singing at the top of your lungs, Jaemin even joined in when you started singing Twice’s Fancy. He noted you got quieter at the end of your street and when your light snore hit his ear, he knew the reason why.

There was a struggle for him to unlock the front door with you still on Jaemin’s back. Trying not to let the three cats escape was an even bigger feat that Jaemin managed. He also managed to get you off his back, setting you down on your bed. Your shoelaces were already half undone in a loose tangle, Jaemin not having to work very hard to get your shoes and socks off your feet.

The brown-eyed man looked frantically around your room, spotting the cotton pads and micellar water on your desk. Gentle strokes of the cotton pad across your skin removed the smeared makeup on your face. Jaemin was amazed you didn’t wake up, especially when he got to your eyes.

His fingers lingered on your face, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I wish things were different, ____.” Jaemin shook his head with a sigh, dropping the used cotton pads into your trash can and setting them next to your bed.

With a glass of water and some Advil at your bedside, Jaemin gave into temptation and pressed a light, lingering kiss to the top of your head before tucking you in and parting from your bedroom.

“Acts of kindness?” Donghyuck echoed. “If I help her out at the library, does that count?”

“She works at the library?” Your mouth was covered by Donghyuck's palm.

“Don’t announce it to the whole coffee shop, ____!” He hissed, yanking his hand away and shaking it out when he felt something slimy brush across his palm. “Okay, ew.”

“Hm, that’d work, try something a little more meaningful though, Hyuck” Yangyang suggested as he stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta go, botany class starts soon.”

The three of you echoed your goodbyes, turning back to the list on the table once your retreating friend was out of sight.

“So, your crush is one of the librarians?” Jaemin questioned, his face shriveling at his next thought. “Do not sit here and tell me that it’s Mrs. Choi...”

“Gross! No, she has warts on warts.” Hyuck shivered at the very thought of it. “She’s our age.”

Donghyuck could practically see the wheels turning in both of your brains as the two of you tried to work it out. He could also guess when yours and Jaemin’s thought waves seemed to of aligned. He found it slightly freaky how you seemed to have a full conversation with just a look.

“Oh, her.” You nodded your head in approval. “Good choice, Hyuck. She’s a friend of mine, really shy.” You hummed.

“You’re not gonna put in a good word for me, even if I ask… are you?” The man’s shoulders deflated as you shook your head.

“Alright then… What’s after the acts of kindness?”

STEP FOUR: COMPLIMENT TASTEFULLY

Jaemin remembers clearly the day he thought his heart jumped out of his throat and threw itself into the lake.

It was one of the rare occasions that he had invited you to hang out where his friends were - He wouldn’t admit but the only reason he did was that Jeno’s girlfriend was begging at his feet not to be the only girl. So, Jaemin invited you.

His eyes widened at the arctic sleeping bag you pulled from the trunk of your car. “Where did you get that?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “What do you think I used when I used to sleep in my car? Takeout wrappers?” His mouth snapped shut as you unzipped the door to your one-person tent, flinging the sleeping bag inside to deal with later. It was only when you had zipped your tent back up did you turn to him again. “Thanks for building the tent for me.” You beamed at him, your hand patting his shoulder in thanks.

“Thanks for driving all our stuff down here. I didn’t realize we had so much.” He glanced around at the half-set-up camp circle. “I should go and help Jisung-ie.”

The two of you went around separately, helping the group set things up, and come nightfall, the nine of you were crowded around the campfire. Jaemin wasn’t listening too much, the brunette was too preoccupied with the way your eyes shone in the moonlight and how the flame from the fire gave your skin a breath-taking glow. He nudged your side with his elbow subtly.

Jaemin was going to compliment you, he was going to tell you how beautiful you looked out there with nature but the words died on his tongue when you looked at him with your showstopping smile. All he could do was nudge the bag of marshmallows toward you.

There was a multitude of reasons why Jaemin couldn't tell you and reason number one was sat across from you both, staring at him with a pointed look across the dancing heat of the fire. Lee Jeno. Jaemin’s best friend nodded his head firmly in your direction, rolling his eyes when Jaemin just shook his head and broke eye contact.

The whole of the three days camping, Jaemin hadn’t had a minute alone with you. Not even on the drive back, with the other car full - Chenle had borrowed his mom’s six-seater - that left three people, including yourself, in your car. So, you, Jaemin, Renjun, and the luggage were in your little two-door car.

The both of you were relieved when you finally arrived home. As much as Renjun was the best company for a two-hour drive, all he did was complain about how little Donghyuck and Chenle helped pack away. It was nice to just have silence.

You had time for a shower and a nap and Jaemin had time to go through the plethora of photographs he took on the trip. He hadn’t realized he took so many, mostly of you. Jaemin stopped on one he took of you by the lake. You were posed beautifully, unaware of the camera pointed toward you. Your smile beaming, the way the sun encased you made you look almost ethereal. Your arm was lifted, eyes locked in fascination on a baby blue butterfly that landed on your index finger.

That was Jaemin’s favorite by far. He had no idea how long he had been staring at the image on his camera, nearly jumping out of his skin when your voice sounded close to his ear. You’d leaned over the back of the couch to take a look.

“Oh, I didn’t know you even took that.” You marveled.

“Hm, It’s one of my favorites.” He murmured quietly, glancing up to watch as you climbed over the back of the piece of furniture to sit next to him.

“The sun makes me look so cool!” You leaned further over, looking at the image in more detail.

Jaemin shook his head, handing the camera over to you. “Nah, You always look that pretty.” He’d said the sentence without thinking.

A light blush coated the apples of your cheeks. Jaemin hadn’t complimented you like this before, no matter how many times you’d longed to hear something like this from your roommate. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. You wondered for a moment if he meant it but when Jaemin didn’t comment any further on the matter you decided not to ask.

“Oh.” You had no idea what to say in response and Jaemin thought your newfound shyness at his compliment was well worth the slip-up.

From then on, Jaemin made sure to give you subtle compliments every so often. Taking personal satisfaction in the color of your cheeks and the shy smiles that would occur.

“And remember, Hyuck. No pickup lines.” Jaemin spoke slowly, hoping that it would get through his friend's head.

Donghyuck hummed in thought before eventually nodding in defeat. “No pickup lines. Not even one.”

Jaemin looked almost proud, giving his friend a light fist bump. “Go through the steps, I need to know you aren’t going to mess this up.”

Hyuck sighed, lifting the list to read out the steps so far. Both you and Jaemin sitting opposite him in anticipation. “Alright, Step one is befriending.” He thought a moment. “So, like, make a connection so we aren’t strangers?” He trailed off on a question, looking to your faces for confirmation.

If your grins were anything to go by, he was doing fine. “Step two is Get to Know.” He took a sip of his coffee, writing a few notes next to the bullet point. “Like, find out her hobbies, places she likes, TV shows, music, food, and maybe things about her family. That sort of thing.” He sounded confident enough with step two that you or Jaemin didn’t make a single comment.

Donghyuck cleared his throat, pausing on step three. “Gestures of kindness?” His confidence wavered. “Can’t we skip any steps?”

“No, No skipping, You got this, Hyuck. Think about it.” Jaemin was awed at the way you gently encouraged his friend. Jaemin and the rest of his friend group usually took the harsher approach, teasing him to no end.

“Alright,” Donghyuck looked visibly in thought for a moment. “Like offering her a ride home or… or staying behind to help her organize the shelves at the library?”

Jaemin hummed, nodding. “Yeah, if you can work out something more solid that would mean more to her then try that. Otherwise, I think that would work. Or bringing her lunch, If you know what she likes.”

“Got it,” Donghyuck scribbled down more notes. “Step four is Compliment Tastefully.” He looked back and forth between you two. “No pickup lines. But, natural?” He tilted his head at the question.

“Yep, Girls love to hear small compliments. About anything.” You offered, “How we’ve painted our nails? Our hair?” You listed off things for him to jot down on the paper, ending with; “Little and often.”

“Thanks, is that it?” Hyuck glanced down at his notepad again, a frown on his face. “None of this includes actually getting the title of boyfriend.”

“No, there are two more steps. The next thing is..”

STEP FIVE: INVITE OUT ( NOT A DATE )

Jaemin fought tooth and nail for these tickets. He had no idea how much they were going to cost nor how many people were biting to attend the event. He remembers when you scrolled through a TikTok of the exact same event but in Paris, beneath the Eiffel Tower.

The way your face lit up when you shoved the phone in his face, rambling about how cool it was. So, when Jaemin caught wind of there being an outdoor cinema on the hill hosted at your very own University campus over the break, he just had to get you there.

But, how would Jaemin get you there without you thinking that he went through so much trouble just to get you a ticket? He thought of telling you that he found them on the ground but that would be ridiculous. There was no way you’d believe that.

Jaemin thought about it the upcoming week of the event, until the day before. You’d entered the apartment, slamming the door behind you much harsher than Jaemin was used to. His head peeked up from over the back of the couch.

“____?” He was met with angry grumbling, and the thudding of your shoes being dropped onto the floor after taking them off. “You okay?”

“Why do people have to be the way that they are?” Your sudden question stunned him for a moment, Jaemin meekly shrugged.

“Good afternoon to you, as well.” He chuckled softly, rising from the couch and rounding the half wall to the kitchen. Already on autopilot to make you a drink.

“I tried to get tickets for Grease In The Park.” Jaemin froze with his hand mid-way in grabbing a glass from the shelf.

“Oh? Really? How did that go?” He cleared his throat to try and curb the nervous waver in his voice.

He glanced over into the living room, seeing you throw yourself onto the couch with a defeated frown on your face. “Someone said they were selling theirs, so I paid way more than I should have for them and they were fake!” You had every right to be pissed, you wasted money that you could be using for gas and next month's car insurance.

Jaemin visibly relaxed out of your eyeline, filling the glass with soda and walking back to set it on the coffee table in front of you. You peered up at his bright, toothy smile, your frown deepening when he laughed softly.

“I don’t see how this is funny, Jaemin.” You grumbled, your foot jutting out to hit the back of his knee. Jaemin only nudged your legs back to perch on the edge of the couch, fingers tugging open one of the drawers in the wooden coffee table.

He produced to you an envelope, raising an eyebrow as he waved it in front of you. “Just go with me.” He stated simply, “Jeno’s now going with his girlfriend. I got a spare ticket.”

He’d never seen you move so fast, snatching the envelope from his hands to peer inside. “Holy shit! You’re not joking? These are real?” You gasped, catching the holographic authenticity sticker on the tickets. “Jaemin, Oh my god!”

Jaemin let out a grunt as he was tackled by you, his back bracing his fall against the cushions. Jaemin stilled for only a moment until he relaxed, his arms winding around your back to gently pat along your spine. “Is that a yes?”

It was and the very next day you were flattening out a picnic blanket under a blossom tree on the hill. The perfect spot to get the best view. If anybody stood up, it wouldn't obstruct your view and it was perfect. You’d insisted that you and Jaemin pack a cooler of snacks and some sandwiches, and much to his surprise you’d packed a Two-ball Screwball each.

Jaemin honestly couldn’t recall the plot of the movie, you were amazed he had never seen Grease before. Even after watching it underneath the blossom tree in the greenery behind the University's main building, Jaemin couldn’t recite the storyline. All Jaemin could remember was watching you with stars in your eyes as you belted out the lyrics to nearly every song.

As the fading notes to You’re The One That I Want got quieter, you turned to him. Jaemin loved you like this, unapologetically you. Cheeks red from the excitement and singing, eyes wide and wondrous in the nature's air. And then you floored him, leaning over to press a meaningful kiss to his cheek.

His lips parted in surprise, his own giddy smile widening as you pulled back an inch to look at him. “Thanks, Jaemin.” You whispered between you. “This has been the best movie theatre experience ever.” and with that, you tugged the spare blanket around the both of you, naturally hugging into Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin complained before about the effort to get the tickets but in that moment he vowed that he would do it again ten times over just to relive this moment.

“You’ve got to make it sentimental. Somewhere she’s always wanted to go but don’t overdo it.” Jaemin pointed at Hyuck in a warning.

“Don’t overdo it? How much do you think this place pays me?” He snorted, gesturing to the coffee shop the three of them had been sitting in since Hyuck’s shift ended two hours ago.

“They’d probably pay you more if you did your job and stopped giving us free coffee.” You shrugged, poking at Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“I’m not even on shift right now!” Donghyuck protested, slapping his hand down on the table. “Do you really want me to start charging you for coffee?”

Jaemin’s lips tugged into a fond smile, letting his friends argue as he slid the paper and pen back toward himself to write the final two steps. He stared at it for a few moments, glancing up at you only once before nodding his head and flipping the paper face down.

Your playful stint with Donghyuck ended as Jaemin stood from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve written the last two steps down.” He began, avoiding your eyes. “I got class in fifteen.”

Jaemin swiftly left you both sitting there, Hyuck already scrolling on his phone when you nudged him. “Aren’t you going to look at step six and seven?” You nudged the paper toward him.

“Eh, read ‘em to me.” Donghyuck shrugged, glancing up at you from his game.

You rolled your eyes, reaching over for the paper. You flipped it over, skimming over the last two steps. Your heart stilled, your body seizing in shock as your brain caught up.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” You whispered, Donghyuck finally glancing over to you.

“I could have told you that, but why?” His head shoved into your eyeline to look at the paper.

‘STEP SIX: WAIT FOR HER TO NOTICE’

“So? Why are you an idiot?” He looked puzzled, eyeing your frozen form carefully.

“Look at this list,” You wave it almost frantically. “Jaemin has done every single one of these things for me.”

“Oh, Yeah. That’s cause he’s in love with you.” Your friend said casually, your head snapping in his direction.

“What?” You choked in disbelief, dropping the list to the table once more.

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught on yet,” Hyuck laughed, “Kinda tragic if you ask me, unrequited love and all.” He yelped when he received a smack to the forearm.

“It’s not unrequited!” It was almost comical how his eyes widened at your exclamation.

“Then go and find him, look at step seven.”

STEP SEVEN: CONFESS

You left the coffee shop in a clumsy mess, nearly headbutting the door on your way out. Honestly, you were beating yourself up over this. Just how long had you been tiptoeing around each other like this? How long had Jaemin been waiting for you to notice?

Of course, there were some intrusive thoughts shoved into the chaos of your mind. Like; What if you were overlooking this? What if Hyuck was lying? What if Jaemin had gotten bored of waiting for you and moved on already?

You skidded to a stop at your front door, suddenly remembering he wasn’t home. Jaemin was in class for at least two hours and you’d just run all the way back to the apartment to confess to him. However, with one whiff of your body, whilst taking your shoes off, you were glad he wasn’t home yet. It allowed you to shower, do your hair, and spritz some of your favorite perfume over yourself.

When Jaemin arrived home, he found you pacing the length of the living room. He wondered if you’d wear the carpet out at this rate. “Did Hyuck understand the last two points okay?” The question hung in the air as he straightened from removing his shoes.

Jaemin knew that this was make or break. You either caught on to his subliminal message or it went right over your head and he would have to revoke the entire list. Though, the look you gave him at that moment said you understood very well.

“How long?” Your voice was a mere whisper, fingers tangling amongst themselves as your feet came to a stop at the end of the couch.

Silence. Jaemin said nothing, his backpack falling from his shoulder to make a dull sound on the carpet. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, Jaemin was having trouble reading your expression. He wasn’t sure if the tears that were overspilling your eyes were a good thing or not. His teeth bit into his cheek.

“Jaemin, how long?” You moved in closer, your voice was desperate.

“A… a while.” He mumbled. “Too long,” He shook his head, suddenly finding the stain on the carpet much more interesting than the tears that spelled the pain on your face.

You sniffled, closing the gap between you to gently cup his cheeks with your palms and lift his gaze back onto yours. Jaemin caved, leaning into your loving touch with eyes fluttering closed. Warm hands cupped over your own.

“Please,” You’d never heard such vulnerability in Jaemin’s voice. “Let me down gently, ____.”

Jaemin’s eyes opened slowly, already feeling the numbness of rejection seep into his bones. But, you just shook your head with a watery smile. It made him hurt more, his first thought wondering if you were intentionally going to make him suffer for this.

“Oh, Jaem, I don’t plan to let you down at all.” Your whispered words were like a wash of color in skies of grey.

Jaemin’s breath of relief relaxed his shoulders and he wasted no time in connecting your lips. His kiss was gentle, surprisingly so for how long he had been waiting for you. Your lips were soft and he could taste the remanence of the drink you’d had earlier. Your lips slotted over Jaemin’s like they were made to be there, like a missing puzzle piece. It felt right.

It was you who pulled away first, slowly opening your eyes to smile shyly at him. “I love you, Jaemin.”

“I love you, ____”

©acescavern, Please do not copy, repost, or translate my works. Reblogging is allowed.

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greywritesthings · 1 month

Text

overwhelmed

Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader

Warnings: description of overwhelm? sensory overload if there's any more let me know!

A/N: not sure what the inspo what behind this but here it is, i am working on another longer fic so this is a filler for the mean time, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! Im autistic so i have a bunch of stuff I'd like to put in for a second (possible series?). For specific senarios ect ect please feel free to send them to my ask box!!

Requests are open for Spencer Reid! Disabled & multilingual characters encouraged

Part 2

Masterlist!

The buzz of the air con unit, the incessant hum if the fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of the co workers you were unfamiliar with all came together to create an almost physically painful environment. You adored working in the BAU but these days where it was lengthy paperwork done on painfully bright computers with the general hubbub of the office made you want to scream. It often ended with Hotch sending you home with paper files to do with spencer but he was off today and you were still intimidated by Rossi so couldn't ask him. Spencer would normally ask for the both of you but he was out with Hotch, they were doing a local death row interview together. You were exhausted and it wasn't even eleven am. You decided to stop by Penelope's office who had made it as sensory friendly as possible once she found out about your autism, something you had appreciated immensely, especially for days like today. “Hey pen? Can i stay in here for a bit?” You ask, walking into the dim room. “Sure thing sugar, you can stay in here for the rest of the day, Rossi told me to come get you for a thing anyway so come over here my fine furry friend.” she beacons you over to the seat next to her.

You couldn't have gotten out of the office faster. Penelope had helped as much as possible but the sensory overload was too much from nine am and you haven't been able to do anything about it aside from chew on some ice every so often.

The idea of taking the subway home made your skin crawl, but you hadn't brought your car to the office this morning, driving was also being far too overwhelming. You would have called Spencer but you had no idea when he would be home given death row inmates either got really chatty or liked to drag on the interview. You decide to just sit on the curb for a while allowing the cooler night air to calm you down enough so you can try and get on the metro without crying.

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there, legs curled tightly against you, head resting against your knees and back pressed against the wall but you flinched when someone walked up and tapped you on the shoulder and scrambled to stand up. “How long have you been out here?” the stranger asks in the darkness. As your eyes adjust you realise its Hotch, meaning Spencer is probably here too. You just shake your head with a pleading look hoping he wouldn't ask you any more questions tonight. “Spencer is in the SUV, I've told him to take that home to save you both taking the metro tonight. Go home, tomorrow's paperwork will be dropped off at your house.He didn't let you get a word in edgewise so you just nod, thank him and wish him and Jack a goodnight, setting off towards the remaining SUV with the lights on.

“Hi honey, you okay?” Spencer asks as you hop into the car, throwing off your blazer before settling in and pulling on your belt. “Bad day?” he asks again trying to gauge how your day went without getting you to talk. You just nod as you reach across to put a hand on his thigh to try and signal that you were okay, just exhausted in every sense of the word. You tap his thigh three times then five, three to say I love you then five to encourage him to talk about his day and not worry about rambling even if you didn’t respond.

Once you get home you drop your things and make a beeline for the couch, flopping face down and screaming into the pillows. “Bath, shower or later sweetheart?” He knew you wouldn’t go to bed without showering but also knew you were too overwhelmed to do anything that required mental effort right now given the whine you let out into the cushions at his question. “I'm going to order some Thai, then do you want to get changed and we can watch a movie? He suggests. “Nada en inglés, por favor” is all you mumble back. He was used to your disdain of English, despite it being your first language. You knew bits and pieces of French, Spanish and German prior to meeting Spencer but since meeting him you had come to learn some Korean and Russian. “Okay dear, i'll go order, you get changed.” he says as he leaves the room going to the phone. You drag yourself off the sofa across the apartment to the bedroom. Grabbing Spencer's caltech sweatshirt and joggers from the bed that you had left there this morning and throwing your suit in the hamper to be washed tomorrow.

You spent the rest of the night curled up under the weighted throw Penelope had knitted you for Christmas on your first anniversary at the BAU and watching old Russian movies. Spencer played with your hair until you fell asleep contemplating how he was going to get you to bed without waking you up.

#greyswritings #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

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forjongseong · 10 months

Text

the other woman // heeseung (ENHYPEN)

pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

genre: smut (minors dni) // warning: aged-up reader and Heeseung, profanity, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex, implied cheating, basically PWP since this is so short. // wc: ~1.4k

summary: tonight is the night you see Heeseung, again, but you begin to wonder how much longer you are able to withstand the tortuous pleasure that is your weekly rendezvous with him, knowing that you are the other woman.

author’s note: I did a thing... this is my first (and maybe last?) Heeseung fic written in a you-POV.

before I explain just listen to this song first (if you haven't already), preferably while reading the lyrics:

I've had this thought for a while and somehow I feel like Heeseung suits the role better (I'm so sorry), and please do not go into enha's lives and start calling Heeseung a cheater okay lol this is definitely not a jab at to what happened to Jay

anyways I am also leaving this out here without a taglist and just let people find this through normal tags or reblogs.

let me know if you think I should write more for Heeseung! (and of course what you think about this one, feel free to scream in my asks).

The flash of red on the tip of your fingernails caught your sight as you fixed the curls on your freshly styled hair. It was Heeseung’s favorite color on you, you remembered him saying. You also remembered, vividly, how he said he loved the feel of your long red nails scratching his back. Since then, whenever he requested to meet up with you, you made sure to spend enough time to perfectly manicure your nails.

You flinched at the sound of the doorbell, and you swiftly made your way to the front door, passing the living room with a large vase sitting on top of the coffee table, filled with fresh-cut flowers. When you reached the foyer, there was another large vase filled with flowers. Most of them were from Heeseung, but when he did not have the time to send you some, you would always get a bouquet for yourself.

“God,” Heeseung muttered as soon as you opened the door for him. “Fucking finally.”

He loosened his tie and immediately leaned into you for a passionate kiss. The way your lips greeted him made him moan into your mouth, and you felt his hands snaking around your waist before moving down to squeeze your buttocks. Your tongues danced with each other for a few seconds before Heeseung pulled back, moved his face down to your neck, and took a deep breath as the tip of his nose grazed your skin.

“You always smell perfect,” he whispered, leaving a teasing lick down your jawline before moving up to peck your lips again.

You merely chuckled as you pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. Your fingers were tangled in his tie as you grabbed it and started dragging him slowly, and he followed behind you, keeping one arm around your waist so he could caress your body even longer.

“Did you wait for me too long?” Heeseung asked as you both entered your bedroom. His jacket was long gone, and he had chucked his tie somewhere on the floor while he was walking.

“It’s never a long wait if it’s for you,” you replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing your legs.

Heeseung chuckled softly and slowly kneeled in front of you. “What a queen,” he said, pushing the hem of your nightgown up, revealing your legs. He kept pushing until the fabric reached above your knees, and he leaned in to give your knee a chaste kiss.

He then placed both his hands on your knees and started to spread your legs ever so gently. You sighed as you felt him kissing your inner thighs, moving from one leg to another. The kisses became wetter, sloppier, and all you wanted to do was for him to kiss you where it mattered the most.

You began brushing his hair back, letting out soft grunts from your lips as you feel his mouth inch closer to your core. The moment you felt his warm breath tickling your skin, you pulled on his hair and centered him between your legs, earning a heartful chuckle from his mouth.

“This is what I have been looking forward to the whole week,” Heeseung said, not taking his eyes off your clothed cunt.

“Heeseung,” you breathed. “Less talking, please.”

You swore you could hear him snicker before the force of his hands pinning you down made you lay back and close your eyes shut. He tugged your panties to the side, keeping them hooked on his fingers as his lips began to abuse your folds. He did not even start with soft kisses—you felt his tongue enter you instantly and the unholy moan you let out was one that your neighbors would talk about the next morning. His one arm keeping your leg down was not enough to keep your body from writhing under his touch, and you had lost the will to keep yourself quiet for the rest of the night.

It was what he did best, you thought, him eating you out. You remembered that one time he said that going down on you was a change from an 'old routine'. You figured that he did not get to do it much in the past, yet it was your favorite thing to receive from him, so you never complained.

Until now, when he unlatched his lips and lifted his head from between your legs.

You stared at him with a bewildered look on your face, and you see the smirk forming on his stained, wet lips.

“Don’t want you to finish too soon, darling.”

Heeseung unhooked his finger from your panties before roughly tugging it down, and then he pushed your nightgown all the way up until it revealed your breasts.

“Glad to know you’re excited too,” Heeseung continued, lightly pinching your nipple and chuckling when he heard you yelp.

“What did I say about talking?” you said, placing a hand over his wrist.

Heeseung clicked his tongue and leaned in, closing the gap between your bodies. You did not notice when he started unbuttoning his shirt, but the feeling of his chest brushing against your tits was already making you lose your mind.

“Maybe you should kiss me more if you don’t want me to talk,” he whispered against your lips.

You accepted the challenge and pulled him in by his neck, causing your teeth to clash. You both quickly got over it with him nibbling on your lower lip and you whimpering into his mouth. You then quickly got over him, pushing his shoulders down as you properly straddled him, keeping your lips locked throughout the whole process.

The night went on like your usual rendezvous with him—carnal, intimate, and passionate. The way you wrapped around him felt like second nature, and the feeling of his lips touching every inch of your body made you silently pray to a god, that you did not even believe in, to make the night endless and for the sun to never rise.

Your thighs wrapped around his waist as you climaxed, yanking his body towards you until you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and losing rhythm. He kissed your cheek with an open mouth as he finished inside of you, and for a second it was almost like you were fighting each other to breathe the same air.

Heeseung caressed the skin under your thigh, making you unwillingly let go of the grip you had around him. You looked at his face and saw beads of sweat forming around his forehead, so you gently brushed his hair back, your hand lingering on his cheek for a second. He reached for your hand and kissed the back of it before pushing himself up and away from your body.

You watched as he stood up and checked his reflection in the mirror of your vanity table. He licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair twice before he cleared his throat and started picking up his scattered clothes. You noticed the unusual rush in his behavior, so as you struggled to sit back up, you mustered the courage to ask him the question you dreaded the most.

“Do you have to go back to work?” you said softly, eyeing the clock on the wall. “It’s not that late. You can stay.”

Heeseung looked at you with an apologetic smile on his face. He was buckling his pants on and then tucking his shirt in.

“I have to get back to my wife,” he said openly. “I promised.”

You had heard him mention his wife numerous times before, but every time he does it, his words still stung.

“I’ll send you flowers in the morning, be there to receive them,” Heeseung continued, putting on his wristwatch. “And I’ll call you before my next visit.”

You were struggling to keep the tears from falling down your cheeks, and when Heeseung turned to face you, you beamed at him, blinking several times to clear your vision.

“Gosh, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself. He then walked to your side of the bed, placed his hand on the small of your back, and kissed your lips hard before letting them go with a smack.

Heeseung walked to the bedroom door and held the handle. He turned to look at you and smiled before closing it shut. You stayed sitting on your bed for a while until you heard the front door closing, and then you collapsed to your bed, screaming your lungs out into the pillow.

The other woman will always cry herself to sleep The other woman will never have his love to keep And as the years go by, the other woman will spend her life alone

-END-

back to masterlist // back to navigation

!!! do NOT copy, translate, or repost any of my work to your blog or ANY other platform.

#writtenbynana #fic: the other woman #enhypen #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #Spotify

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taylortots-world · 10 months

Text

Come A Little Closer

Summary: You and Dean spent hours in bed. Not for the reason you may think. Research. Open books and scattered papers. You can visibly see how exhausted Dean is. So, you decide to give him a hand.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni!, smut, handjob,

A/N: Enjoy! Reblogs and likes mean the world to me :) Feel free to leave me requests! I know this isn't my best work </3 I'm also currently working on part two of "On The Clock."

12:43AM. Dean and I have been at this for six hours. Research for a single case. I was sitting against the headboard, laptop resting on my blanket covered thighs. Dean was originally resting against the headboard, now he's fully laid down with an open book resting against his chest.

I glanced down at him, grinning. "Are you just going to lay there?" He rolled his head to the side, looking at me with a tired green stare. “Yes in fact I am. We’ve been at this for hours, I think I’ve fried my brain.” He groaned, tossing his book to the foot of the bed. I softly laughed and tossed my own book aside, still looking down at him. “Just try and relax. We’ll call it a night and pick it up in the morning.” I slightly shifted under the blankets, attempting to adjust my partially numb legs.

Dean slightly shifted, planting his hand on my thigh. My eyes flicked to his hand. Watching as he slowly rubbed up and down my thigh. I turned to look at him again, just to find him already staring at me. Those tired green eyes quickly turned into fuck me eyes. “What?” I asked with a slight smirk. “You know what. C’mon.” He slightly tilted his head down, his gaze still piercing my soul.

“Two can play that game Winchester.” My smirk remained wide and devious as my left hand found his thigh, slowly inching more and more towards his crotch. I lowered my face to his, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss. His natural musk filling my senses. “Just relax.” I whispered, our faces still inches apart. His hot breath fanning against the crook of my neck, sending a series of shivers and goosebumps down my body.

Without breaking eye contact, my hand slowly slid past the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. His breathing slightly hitched as I began to palm his cock through his boxers, feeling him grow under my touch. "You're such a fucking tease." He groaned, letting his head hit the pillow. Dean was right, I am a fucking tease.

When we first started dating, I never intentionally teased him. I just slowly began to pick up on the little things I did, that drove him crazy. Wearing oversized shirts with only a thong underneath. The way my cleavage pops when I'm doing research at one of the library tables.

"Y/N- please." He begged. Oh god, he was begging. My core beginning to clench around nothing. My eyes met his, before flicking back down to his growing erection. I could feel my panties getting damper with every touch and twitch of his cock. He lifted his ass off the bed as he helped me slide his bottoms down to his ankles. His rock hard cock now on display, glistening with precum.

I slightly shifted my legs, squeezing them tightly together in an attempt to create any sort of friction. I could've sworn Dean's eyes darkened. He looked at me with lust filled eyed. A blush dancing across his freckled skin. Not wanting to make him wait any longer, I licked a broad stripe from the bottom of my palm to my finger tips. The vein in his cock pulsated as he watched this.

I quickly took ahold of his cock, slowly beginning to pump him in my fist. It felt like I was on fire. My core continuing to clench and throb, my nipples pebbling beneath my tank top. I watched his face closely as I continued to jerk him off, my hand moving a little faster now. His face was genuinely one of my favorite sights, especially during sex. The way his jaw goes slack, his lips forming an 'O'. His brows furrowed in pleasure, a series of moans and profanities rolling off his tongue. Fuck. It drives me up the walls- he drives me up the walls, in the best way possible.

I shifted a little closer to his cock on the bed, now using both my hands to pump him. My left hand continued to work his cock while my right hand snaked down between his legs to gently massage his balls, earning a moan from him. No guy would ever admit it, but it feels fucking amazing when you play with their balls.

"Fuck I'm gonna come," Dean moaned out as his eyes squeezed shut. His hips gently thrusting up into my hand as hot spurts of come landed on my hands and his stomach. I looked at him, waiting for him to open his eyes. Once he opened his eyes, he looked at me. "You continue to amaze me." He said in a breathless tone, still trying to recoup himself after his orgasm. I leaned back and snatched up a wad of tissues from the box that sat atop the nightstand. Carefully, I began to clean up my hands and his cock before laying down beside him.

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book-place · 4 months

Text

Accidents Happen

Warnings: hospitals, mentions of injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Avengers x reader platonic

Request: Hi hi! Can you please do a avengers x little reader? R is 6 and maybe Natasha or peter drop her off at school but a few hours after school starts they get a call saying she had an accident and got injured badly. So the whole team shows up at the school to rush her to the Emergency room and the person who dropped R off feels really guilty but the R tells them it wasn't their fault (also could R be wise for her age?) Anyways thanks feel free to ignore this or change some things thank you!

Request by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: Nat blames herself for the accident you had at school that causes the entire team to rush to the hospital

A/N: I loved writing this

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Thank you, Nattie!” You called, scrambling out of the backseat and sending a wide, toothy grin to the redhead.

Natasha smiled at you fondly, “You’re welcome, n/n, have a good day.”

You closed the car door and turned on your heels hurrying towards the entrance, excited for school to start. The woman couldn’t help but chuckle, you’re the only kid she’s ever met that’s been happy to go learn, especially at six years old.

She watched from the car until the entrance door swung shut softly behind you before she put the car into drive once more and set off to begin her no doubt long day, though a soft smile still lingered on her lips from her interaction with you.

-•-

“Where the hell is she?”

“What’s going on?”

“Do you know who I am? I could have you fired with the snap of my fingers!”

“This place is full of so many puny humans, and yet not a single one of them is giving me a straight answer!”

The outraged roars of Earth’s mightiests heroes might not have been what anyone in the hospital was expecting in the middle of the day, but to be fair- they were beyond stressed and concerned. They had no idea what was going on, not really.

About fifteen minutes ago, Natasha had received a phone call from your school- her being your emergency contact- in the middle of a debrief with her teammates. The principal on the other side of the phone had been very vague as she informed the woman that she had been in an accident and was rushed in an ambulance to the nearest hospital, all but hanging up before Romanoff could fire off any one of the thousands of questions racing through her mind.

Chaos had followed that phone call, the avengers all scrambling around, trying to get to the hospital as quickly as possible with no real direction as to what was going on.

So now, they stood in the lobby, anger and worry etched onto each of their faces respectively as they swung around in circles, demanding answers from any of the many people working there.

Bucky and Thor both looked seconds away from lunging towards the closest doctor and shaking them until they gave them an explanation and to point them in your direction.

Tony was sneering at every person that passed, trying to intimidate them while Steve tried to ask questions as calmly as he could. Clint looked seconds away from diving through the doors dedicated to doctors only.

The only one that was silent was Natasha. She stood in the middle of the chaos with her arms pulled around her stomach, face paler than normal and looking as though she might be sick.

She had dropped you off this morning. She had been the one to leave you at that school without a second thought. How could she not realize that something would go wrong? She always had a sixth about that kind of stuff.

And now, because of her lack of realization, you were somewhere in this vast building, lying in a hospital bed, all alone- probably scared. And she didn’t even know if you were alright.

“Miss. Romanoff?”

The voice automatically silenced all of the avengers and they all whipped in the direction of it.

The doctor who spoke, to her credit, didn’t look the least bit intimidated at being stared down by the people, instead glanced down at her clipboard, “You’re here to see Y/n L/n, correct?”

Natashas head immediately bobbed up and down, moving forward, fear gripping her heart, “Is she okay?”

A sympathetic and reassuring smile appeared on the woman’s face, “She’s going to be fine,” She assured the group.

Everyone's muscles immediately loosened and Natahsa felt a shaky breath leave her lips as fear's grip loosened a bit on her heart.

“What happened?” Tony demanded, still not fully convinced.

With an incline of her head, the avengers all piled after the doctor as she led them through the workers only door, “She was in an accident at school. Apparently she had been trying to jump to the monkey bars at recess, but misjudged the distance and landed at the wrong angle on the metal pole of the jungle gym, hitting her head. She was knocked out, so the school called us. She has a concussion, but she’ll be fine in a few weeks if you take the proper precautions. We can discuss those later.”

There it was again, the fear and worry and guilt that was consuming the redheads entire being. She could tell by their reactions that her team was feeling the same.

“Right in here.” The doctor cast them one last smile before leaving them at the door of your room.

Immediately, Bucky all but threw the door open and everyone rushed in, crowding into the small room.

Natahsa pulled up short at the sight of you, lying in the hospital bed, looking smaller than normal surrounded by all the big equipment in the oversized bed.

You turned your head with wide eyes at the sound of footsteps, but relaxed into a smile when you saw who it was.

“Hi, guys,” You piped happily- as if nothing happened- but your voice was a bit weaker than normal.

“Oh, n/n,” Nat breathed out, immediately falling to your side, crouching down, grasping your hand in hers and squeezing it, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, smiling up at the woman, “I’m fine, my head just hurts.”

The woman frowned, smoothing back your hair from your forehead, “Do you need anything?”

Apparently, the team had caught onto Romanoffs feelings of guilt a while ago, because they exited the room at that moment, knowing that they should give her some space with you for a few minutes to sort through her emotions. They hated leaving you, but knew you would always be safe as long as Natasha was around.

You shook your head- slowly so as to not hurt yourself more, “I’m fine.” You promised, “I’m happy you’re all here.”

A shaky breath once again slipped from the woman's lips, “I’m so sorry,” Her eyes were welled up with tears.

It was then your turn to frown, confusion pulling your eyebrows down, “For what, Nattie?” You had no idea what she was talking about.

“If I hadn’t left you today, if I had known that something was wrong, I never would’ve left you.” A single tear slipped down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut and put your still intertwined hands to her forehead.

You squeezed her hand once, “It’s not your fault, Nattie, you couldn’t have known.” You were smiling kindly at her now.

“But-”

You shook your head stubbornly, a trait she often wondered if you got it from her, “It’s not your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone and there’s no way to tell if or when it’ll happen. Accidents happen.” You insisted.

A shaky huff of a laugh left her lips as she pressed a kiss to your forehead, “When did you get so wise?”

A wide grin appeared on your face, “I always have been, you’re just noticing now.”

We Are Groot 🤎- @lovanitu @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @irethepotato @femalemarvelself @mukbee @its-hell @ip747 @i-writes-things @popfishjr @mitsuki-murakami @mythixmagic @ladyagagaslefttoe @etanordoesbullsh1t @wolfmoonmusic @nutellani @hyunzrii @scarthefangirl

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dokidaichi · 2 years

Text

(i) things about HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU

pairing : (very) hot neighbour ! suguru x fem ! reader

warnings : non-sorcerer au, suggestive, pervert suguru (as expected), ulterior motives, accidental flashing, shy reader (because suguru's that fucking hot), suguru the ultimate tease, important note in the end !! also i had too much fun writing this it's a sin

note : my requests are open ! feel free to send some in my ask box

suggestive content under the cut, minors dni

reblogs and comments are appreciated ୨♡୧

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU just moved into the apartment beside yours. you just happen to stumble upon him when he's getting his last boxes in, and you felt rude to have stared at him the way you did. you were not-so-subtly checking him out, as a tight navy shirt hugged his undeniably built upper body to contrast the loose black pants, and strands of jet black hair just effortlessly falling out of his bun. you were even more embarrassed when he offered you his hand with a smile, saying "hi, i'm geto suguru. your new neighbour, i believe?", while all you could spout back were stuttered words.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU can't forget about you. he especially can't forget about the way you looked at him. and, it wasn't like many people haven't obviously gawked at him, but he especially liked it when he saw how nervous you got just at the sight of him. "she's cute.", he speaks to himself, going into his nap thinking of you.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU meets you again when you're going up the stairs, as he's going down. you tell him that the elevator would be out of service for a while, even though he didn't even ask, but he appreciates it nonetheless. especially since you said it without even gathering the courage to meet his eyes. his "thank you" catches you off guard, since he ever so briefly placed his much bigger hand on yours, before walking down.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU is also not bothered at all by the fact the elevator is working. while his friends say it's "unlucky" that the elevator broke down since he just moved in, he says it isn’t. he doesn't tell them why, but it's his absolute luck that he often meets you on the stairs, especially when he's going down. why? he feels he's been blessed by the gods that you wear short skirts so often. he gets such a wonderful view as he strides downstairs, while you cluelessly and timidly take steps upwards. he wonders if you've always worn skirts often or if it's because he moved in.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU is surprised when you knock on his door, asking him to help with a light bulb change in your living room since you "can't find your ladder". of course, he comes in to "help you" with changing the light bulb as an excuse to check out how many places he can bend you over. you also asked him oh-so-nicely as you gave him the privilege to hear you say his name when you asked "g-geto, do you mind helping me with something? please?"

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU smiles when you offer him something to drink, since he graciously helped you with the bulb. he leans against the kitchen counter while he watches you pour out juice into a glass, only to suddenly walk towards you. you tense up when you hardly feel his wide body against your back, watching as his hand takes the filled glass and he (rhetorically) asks "this for me?". while he chuckles, unfazed by your slow nod, you're still too flustered when he moves away from behind you and stands beside you.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU sees you the next day, both of you just coming home from work. he asks you how work was, how your day was, any troubles ... and you answer every question, but your eyes are glued to your door knob. at first, you don't see suguru smirk, but you're soon sucking in a breath when the man suddenly approached you, similarly to how he did yesterday, and uses his pointer finger to move your chin to face him. your head tilts upwards, since he's tall, and you could see his sly expression crystal clear as he says "it's impolite not to look at people when they're asking about you, y/n."

note : should .. i make this a fic?? like .. of when reader and geto get together? because the concept of getting fucked by neighbour ! suguru is too good to resist.. please say so either through the post replies/reblogs, or in my ask box !! thank you :D

update : HOW DO I TAG ALL OF YOU OH GOD IM ALMOST DONE WRITING THE FIC

SECOND update : i’ll be tagging whoever replies or reblogs !

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classicalchan · 3 months

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things chan would do if you were upset:

show you patience. he would be the type to not run away at the first sight of disruptive emotions from you. he will be there as long as you need him for until he is sure that you’re feeling better.

acts of service. he would probably try to do things to make life a bit easier for you in the moment without you even asking him to. he’d probably make your bed/tuck you into bed, bring you food/drinks, help out with chores, massage you if you want that.

offer protection. if he knows you’re not in a good position at the moment, he would make sure nobody can upset you further. he’d go against the world if he has to. if he could, he’d put you inside a bubble to keep you safe from further harm.

physical touch. i think he’d be very open to providing physical comfort as well. the warmest hug you can imagine. his hand would probably caress your hair as he hugs you and scratch your scalp. he might even press a few kisses to your temple or your forehead. he’d cuddle with you if you wanted and hold your hand.

the way he speaks. he’s already so kind and careful with what he says but expect it to amplify when he sees you’re not doing so well. he’d be super gentle and will listen to you attentively. he’d fill you up with encouragement and praises about things you already do so well. he’d constantly reaffirm that he’s there for you and that as long as he’s around, you don’t need to be scared about anything or anyone.

oh lord, i’m weak for this man. the way this is not even me thinking about something imaginary. he WOULD do all of this because he’s just such a naturally empathetic person <3

i’m so glad people like him exist.

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join the taglist here.

check out my other works here.

please reblog this work if you liked it <3

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#bangchan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan skz #chan skz #chan x you #bangchan headcanons #bangchan stray kids #bangchan fic #chan fic

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Seven.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter eight. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. At least, that’s what you and Bucky keep telling yourselves.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 4.8k

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the delay on this one angels!! january blues, a crazy work schedule, writers block.. they all came to play at the same time. but chapter seven is finally here!! I hope you enjoy it. thank you for the continued love on this - words can’t describe how incredible it is.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?”

Stella simply shrugs, sipping her cappuccino as if she has all the time in the world.

“Babe, with all due respect… I’ve been waiting for you to initiate this conversation for like two months.”

You look at her incredulously, fiddling nervously with a chip in the handle of your coffee cup.

“…Why? How?”

She smiles softly, reaching for your hand across the table.

“You’re miserable.”

You take a deep breath, and then another. After the fifth one, you find the courage to meet her eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re a hell of an actress, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not you-”

“I know. Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do.”

She waits for you, patient as ever. You’d be lying if you said the guilt wasn’t eating you up, slowly but surely from the inside out. You feel like you’ve let her down, disappointing the one person who’s given you your dream.

You realise, suddenly, that you haven't told anyone the full truth about everything. Not your Mom, not your Dad, not Lacie. Your Tethering, Bucky, the move to California - all your feelings and emotions over the past how ever many months have been bottled up and stowed away on a shelf, never to be opened. But you have the urge, now, to unscrew the cap and pour it out across the table, regardless of the mess.

So, you do.

"It's not you. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, Stel, and I couldn't be more grateful. You know that, right?"

She nods, squeezing your hand.

"It's just been hard... emotionally. So, I, the thing is, I just..."

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

"I'm Tethered. I have a soulmate, and he lives back home. We found out literally right before you called me and asked about the business. I couldn't turn you down, I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't just let it pass me by. I knew we could do this, me and you, together. And I thought I’d be able to cope.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“Being away from Bucky has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It’s like… I can’t breathe properly without him. Food isn’t as flavourful, colours aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. The separation is actually having physical effects that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’ve held out for as long as I possibly can. I was hoping that maybe it’d pass, that we’d get used to it and it’d all wear off. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse than ever. The separation is ruining us both.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to tell me not to apologise, but I am. I’m sorry. You’ve given me everything and I’m just… quitting on you. I love this job so much, Stella. I can’t even find the words to describe how much. But I think either me or Bucky will break soon. And I have to prevent that from happening.”

You inhale.

Stella looks at you with so much compassion, you fight the urge to burst into tears.

You exhale.

“Listen to me, okay? You are one of the best damn bakers I have ever met in my life. No one in culinary school even came close to you. I always knew that I wanted you on my team, by my side, in my corner - in the kitchen, and everywhere else. But-"

You chew your bottom lip, wincing when you taste copper.

“We don’t have to be in each other’s pockets. We can be business partners and not see each other everyday. These are the joys of modern technology, babe. We can call, text, video chat, and then schedule in person meetings when we can. If anyone can make a cross country partnership work, it’s us. I mean, come on.”

The weight lifts from your shoulders, slowly but surely. A glowing, molten warmth trickles through your veins, hopeful and real and alive.

“And this,” she picks up your business plan, all printed and pretty. “This is air fucking tight. I’m not saying you picked the wrong career, but… business could definitely be your Plan B.”

You laugh, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly, still choked with emotion.

“Babe, I was going to franchise the business eventually anyway. Sure, this is a little earlier than I first thought, but why the hell not? We’re successful, we’ve done so well… what’s stopping us? We know we can do this. And I trust you. So much.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, easing your death grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, I promise you. This is a good thing.”

She thinks for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, she grins at you, nosy and mischievous.

“So a soulmate, huh?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands - but you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

“Yeah. It’s been… complicated.”

“He’s that super hot guy that came to see you, right? The one that looks like he could be a model?”

Laughing, you nod, making mental note to relay this to Bucky on the phone later.

“How did it happen? Was it like, a stranger on the street moment?”

“Nope,” you recall fondly. “We knew each other already. He’s my Dad’s best friend.”

Her jaw drops open, eyes flickering across your face.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, babe.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Shit, no wonder you’ve been under so much stress. What did your Dad say?”

“He… doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“We need to tell him, I know we do, but it’s just so complicated. I’m worried that it’ll change everything, and not for the better.”

It’s been eating away at you, lately. The fact that your parents don’t know originally made perfect sense, but now? It’s been almost a year. You’ve never kept anything from them for that long. Now, you’re worried that you’ll never be able to undo the damage of lying and keeping secrets from the two people you always promised never to do that to.

"Look, I know I'm not exactly qualified to give out soulmate advice, but... you can't change this. It's literally been written in the stars. Your parents will understand, okay? But the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it'll be."

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just - it’s tough. It’s gonna change everything, forever.”

“But isn’t that the beauty of it? It’s going to change everything, forever.”

You jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around Stella, holding onto her as tightly as you can. She hugs you back fiercely, speaking a thousand words without saying anything at all.

“Proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair.

“For what?” you laugh.

“Putting yourself first. Your health, your mental wellbeing, all of it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Love you,” you whisper, fighting back tears of relief.

“Love you too, my baker extraordinaire.”

You sit back down and take a breath, deep and full. Relaxing into your chair, you allow yourself to finally think about the next steps.

“So, I was thinking about going home and scouting out locations. I have that list of places that you read over in the business plan, but I thought of a couple more last night a few miles further out. I’ve pre prepped a few days worth of our best sellers, so you should be good without me.”

“Of course, babe. I’ve circled a couple where I really liked the look of the listings you’ve printed, and written a couple of notes for you to look over - just logistical stuff. Go back home, see your family and your soulmate,” she smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, “and just relax. God knows the stress lately has taken a couple years off your life. Please, get those years back on the beach or with your man or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head. She’s right, though. The stress has been resting stagnant in your muscles, tight and wound, making everything harder. You can’t wait to sit on the sand in Bucky’s arms and feel the tension melt from your body.

“You’re the best, Stella. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”

Hours later, Bucky watches you on video call, laptop propped up on the dresser as you pack your bags excitedly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up, anticipation of the future lighting up his bones.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You show up at your parents house without warning.

You thought about calling first, but decided it’d be much more fun to surprise them. It’s a Friday evening, and you know they’ll both be sat out on the back deck, drinking wine and recapping their weeks. It’s getting warmer on the East Coast, the sounds of spring and summer slowly filtering through.

Your Mom throws open the door, her face lighting up with glee.

“Babygirl!”

She throws her arms around you, rocking you back and forth so forcefully you’re worried you might fall over.

“My baby,” she exclaims, beaming grin almost blinding you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She grabs your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling as the setting sun warms your back.

“Yeah, Mama. I am.”

She believes you. For the first time in a long time, you believe you too.

“Come on. Your Dad is gonna be so excited to see you.”

You leave your bags in the car, prioritising seeing the man who’s currently shaking his hips to the soft salsa music that’s playing.

“Nice moves, Casanova.”

He whips his head around, laughing when he sees you stood against the doorframe watching.

“You like em? I need a partner, babygirl! Come on!”

He grabs your hands, pulling you further into the yard so you have more space. You take up a terrible ballroom dance posture with him, cackling as he dips you backwards and almost drops you.

“Don’t kill my baby, please Jack!” your Mom calls from the kitchen window.

She returns with a glass of pink wine in her hand, gesturing for you to come and get it. Your Dad spins you over to her, steadying your shoulders when you trip over his shoes.

“It’s like The Universe knew you were coming to us tonight, darling. We opened the strawberry wine and everything.”

“My favourite.”

You get comfy on the loveseat, sitting across from your parents who are pressed together on the outdoor sofa. The wine is sweet and sugary and exactly what you needed.

“So, what are you doing here, kiddo?”

“It’s a little… complicated. But the good kind of complicated, I think.”

You start at the beginning. Well, almost. You leave out the part about finding Bucky, waiting for him to be with you when you tell that part of the story. You agreed that you’d talk to your parents about your relationship together, and you’re not about to break that promise. You do, however, explain everything else to them.

They listen carefully, nodding and smiling to let you know they’re still with you. When you talk about the difficulties you’ve faced, they wear matching frowns as your Mom fights back tears. Eventually, you sit in silence, waiting for their reaction.

“I wish you’d said something sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I thought I could do it on my own.”

“Honey, you never have to go through anything alone. That’s what we’re here for - we’re like, your built in therapists. Both me and your Dad would have happily listened if you’d called us, no matter the time or place.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“So this means you’re moving home?”

You nod, trying to contain the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“Well it’s a good job we didn’t end up renting your apartment, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“We thought about it, but it didn’t feel right. And we wanted to see you settle down in California first, just in case. I don’t either of us were ready to see someone else in that place. It’s yours.”

“You big softie,” you tease, nudging your Dad with your foot. He grabs it and squeezes, laughing when you squirm out of his grip.

“Well this is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?”

When you were younger, you used to get embarrassed that your Mom would throw parties for everything. Now, it’s one of your favourite things about her. She’s taught you to embrace the joy of the little things in life.

“What are you thinking, Mama?”

“Tomorrow night, a few friends. I’ll make a big paella, we can drink wine, play cards… what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it does. The ease of being back home has calmed you down, untied the knots in your shoulders. You feel warmed by love, from the inside out.

You leave your parent’s house, promising to make a dessert of some kind for tomorrow. As you drive away, you suddenly realise that you’re headed in the wrong direction. You’re not going home. You’re going to the person that feels like home.

Bucky.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

He’s waiting for you on his front porch when you pull up.

“Hi, honey baby.”

“Hi, handsome.”

You launch yourself into his arms, savouring the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He smells like fresh linen and sea salt and all your future plans.

“You felt me coming, didn’t you?”

“From a mile off.”

He’s grinning, beaming in all directions.

“Good job it wasn’t a surprise visit, huh?”

“There’s no such thing anymore.”

“Good.”

He grabs your face in his work rough hands, gazing at you as if you’re the sun. You realise, suddenly, that you are. You are the one thing that his world revolves around. And he is yours. Forever.

“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare at me, hmm?”

He chuckles before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh in contentment and pull him closer by his shirt, tilting your head back to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like scotch and spearmint, a perfect picture of his evening.

“Have you been drinking alone, cowboy?”

“Needed some liquid courage. Knew you’d come by.”

“I make you nervous, huh?”

The filthy smirk written across your face sends electricity crackling across his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up.

“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“You’re really blowing up my ego, you know. I make the Bucky Barnes nervous. Who’d have thought?”

He shuts you up by kissing you again, snaking his hands around your back to plaster your bodies together. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly.

“You’re letting your hair grow.”

“You like it long.”

You stop for a moment, watching his face carefully.

“Yeah. I do. How’d you know?”

“You pull it more when it’s long. Can feel how much you like it.”

“You’re a menace,” you laugh. “How about you take me inside, and I’ll show you just how much I like it? Unless you wanna give your neighbours front row seats…”

He chuckles and shakes his head before throwing you over his shoulder, laughing harder when you start shrieking. He carries you over the threshold, a beautiful prediction of years to come.

�� ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You and Bucky spend the evening in his kitchen with the windows open, watching the setting sun. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the room, tussling Bucky’s chocolate brown hair and glinting off the ice in his rocks glass.

“You want me to come with you tomorrow, when you scout locations? I’ll be your chauffeur, if you like.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the boss, baby.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

He kicks you lightly under the table, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, Buck. I’d love it if you came with. You can use your contractor knowledge and help me out.”

“It’s a date. You want me to bring my clipboard? Tape measure? Mechanical pencil?”

“You gonna bring your talking machinery too, Bob The Builder?”

Bucky stands from his chair and pulls yours out, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He spins you around before putting you down and dragging you up the stairs, kicking his bedroom door open.

He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, chuckling when you almost bounce off. You toss your shirt at his face, before shucking off your jeans and doing the same thing. He catches them with ease, winking at you before undressing himself.

He crawls up your body, kissing any skin he can find as he goes. He starts at your ankle, before moving to your knee, your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, your neck, and eventually your lips. You’re almost shaking, alive with the anticipation of having every inch of Bucky pressed against you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasps into your ear. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Just want you.”

“Need to get you ready first,” he murmurs, fingers trailing between your legs. His breath hitches when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh honey,” he groans. “You been like this all night? Hmm?”

“Since I first saw you waiting for me.”

He groans again, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Please, Buck. Just wanna feel you.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so damn pretty?

“You’re killing me,” he mutters against your skin.

Bucky slides into you with one smooth thrust, biting down on your shoulder as he does it. You shudder at the feeling, and at the thought of having the imprint of his teeth on you later.

You both gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in to you. You loop your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to press him even closer.

“Fuck me,” you choke out. “Need it, Buck.”

“My needy girl,” he chuckles lowly. “Gonna give you everything.”

Bucky retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, deep and full. You whine, and he’s convinced the sound will never be matched. It’s like angel song, rose tinted and heavenly.

He fucks you into the mattress, long, slow thrusts that make you want to cry a little. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so connected to him - every single part of you touching his, bodies plastered together and souls intertwined.

He presses open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, right into your sweet spot. When he feels you getting close, he dances his fingers down your body and circles your clit, languid but precise. Your back arches as you find your release, clawing your nails down his back and locking your ankles around his hips.

“Oh fuck, honey - fuck.”

Bucky finishes with a shudder, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder. His raspy groans hit your ears just right, sweat dripping down onto your dewy skin.

“Love you, baby. Fuck, I love you.”

You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your highs.

“I love you too,” you giggle, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.

He collapses his weight onto you, chuckling when you groan. You push him off so he can lie next to you, strong arm thrown over your stomach as he pulls you in close.

You stay tangled for a while, letting the breeze from the window cool you both down. Bucky traces absentminded patterns across your back, rough fingertips sending goosebumps over your skin.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” you murmur, keeping the volume low.

“Me too. Feels like a big step for our future, doesn’t it?”

“I just never imagined I’d have… this. You, the job I’ve always dreamed of… it doesn’t feel real. I mean, we’re going to look at places for a second location of my business. Who ever could have predicted I’d say that sentence?”

“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I told you that, that night on the beach. Before we knew. Remember?”

“I remember,” you smile, recalling that evening. You’d felt so inexplicably connected to Bucky that day. Little did you know what was to follow.

You fall asleep wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, warm and content.

You’ve never known happiness like it.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The day flies by with Bucky by your side.

You’re a little out of your depth, admittedly. You don’t know much about real estate, or what makes a viable location for a bakery. But Bucky helps - explaining what to avoid, warning signs to look out for, checking out all of the boring stuff like gas mains and water pipes and backup generators. He never patronises you, even when you look at him like a deer in headlights. He clarifies himself when you become unsure, laying out explanations carefully and simply. He’s the perfect right hand man.

“You almost ready, honey?”

“Yeah Buck, give me one second!”

You walk into the kitchen where Bucky’s leaning against the counter, beer in hand. He’s in loose jeans and a linen button up, the white shirt beautifully showing off his tanned skin. He’s got several buttons undone, toned chest peeking through. He looks effortlessly perfect.

You stop in front of him, fixing the buckle on your sandals. You look up at Bucky to find him staring at you, open mouthed.

“You alright, handsome?”

“You look… you look - fuck, you look gorgeous.”

Heat rises up your skin, still so susceptible to his compliments.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he chuckles into your mouth.

Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, pulling you into him. His other hand plays with the hem of your dress, your skin burning where his fingers brush. You kiss him back harder, groaning when he nips at your bottom lip. He sucks on your tongue, and your knees buckle.

You pull back suddenly, putting three feet of distance between you.

“We need to go.”

Your hair is tousled, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you try to regain your composure. Bucky smirks at you, laughing when you flip him off.

“Come on. My parents and paella await us.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your Mom has done it again.

Golden lights adorn the beams of the deck, the table littered with flowers and wine glasses begging to be filled. There’s already a few people scattered around the yard, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.

“Oh baby, you look so beautiful.”

Your Mom engulfs you in a hug, pulling back to look at you from a distance. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, form fitting in all the right places. The skirt blows in the gentle breeze, fanning around you like an angels halo.

“This place looks amazing, Mama. I made you a tropical tart - it’s pineapple and coconut, with a mango coulis.”

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ll put it in the fridge and get you some wine, honey. Buck, you want wine or beer?”

“Wine, please Lori. You need a hand?”

“If you’re offering,” she winks, laughing when he pokes her in the side as they leave towards the kitchen.

“Your father says you’re moving back home.”

You turn around to see Cora looking at you expectantly. You haven’t seen her since the incident that evening months ago.

“Uh, yeah. I love California, but I think I outgrew it after culinary school.”

She nods at you in faux sympathy, overbearing and sickly sweet.

“Aw, sweetie. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we hoped, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

You look for an exit, but she rubs your arm in support, pulling you back.

“I saw you today, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! Down on Maple, by the corner. You were with Bucky.”

You freeze suddenly, blood running cold. You and Bucky are always affectionate, whether you mean to be or not. It’s just the way it is, being alongside your soulmate. Of course, Cora doesn’t know this. All she’s seen is you, out in town with your Dad’s best friend, looking cosier than platonic.

Your ears are ringing. You wonder, for a second, if you’re experiencing deja vu.

“Yeah, he… he has contracting experience. Just needed a second opinion. I’m no builder, after all.”

You force a laugh, willing the ground to swallow you up.

“You two are friends? You seem pretty close.”

She’s watching you, waiting for a reaction. You don’t give it to her.

“I’ve known him for a while, I see him often. He’s a good friend to my Dad, so you can imagine we know each other pretty well by now.”

“Yeah. It sure looked like it.”

You’re wracking your brain, trying to understand what she saw. Then it hits you.

On the corner of Maple is a florist’s, alive with blooming flowers and plants of every colour. You’d been admiring the tulips when Bucky had wrapped his arms around you from behind, whispering in your ear about how you’re the prettiest flower of all, honey.

There’s no running away from this. She’s caught you, in broad daylight.

“We’re friends,” you reiterate, praying for mercy.

You shoot her a fake smile before turning on your heel, making a beeline for the kitchen to find your Mom. When you get there, you gulp down your entire glass of strawberry wine, begging the sugar to lift your mood and calm your nerves.

The rest of the night goes off fairly smoothly.

You eat paella and fruit tart, drink wine, laugh with your parents and their friends. Bucky occasionally slips a hand beneath the table, squeezing your thigh in silent reassurance. You tangle your fingers with his for a moment before letting go, praying everyone else is none the wiser.

Every time Cora opens her mouth, your chest constricts a little. But she seems to have learnt her lesson somewhat, only speaking to tell obnoxiously long and tangent filled stories and offer comments no one asked for. Eventually, you all disperse from the table, making conversation elsewhere.

“What’s on your mind?” a low voice rasps in your ear.

You’re sat on the swing in the corner of the garden, watching the world go by. Bucky snakes his arm over the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

“Cora saw us today. Think she knows.”

“She’s a fucking nuisance.”

You laugh, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s bones.

“Yeah, she is. She’s also a gossip. She won’t keep her mouth shut for long if she thinks she’s sitting on something newsworthy.”

He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“So we tell them.”

You lean back into Bucky’s arm, inhaling the familiar scent of peace.

“We should do it as soon as possible.”

“How about tomorrow?”

You nod, biting your glossy lips.

“Yeah. We need to do it sometime, and we’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Bucky nudges closer to you, so your sides are pressed together.

“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, honey girl.”

You smile gently.

“I know. I don’t think I believed you the first time you said that to me. But I do now.”

“You and me against the world, baby.”

“You and me against the world, Buck.”

It truly feels like it, at the moment. You and Bucky against the world.

tag list part one

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secondhand-snow · 2 months

Text

a body of impulses

chapter 2: feeling like unraveling

lukas matsson x f!roy! reader (succession)

★ chapter 1 ★ | ★chapter 3★

wc: 9.0k+

warnings: super dysfunctional family, fluff first then angst, roman roy as his own warning, season 3 finale as its own warning, mentions of manipulation, drinking, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (for real this time), dick pics, mention of phone sex, making out, dry humping/grinding, biting, pussyjobs, cum play/eating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), aftercare, no use of y/n

summary: Lukas is amazing. He's tender, he's deviant, he's everything for you. But you're still worried, your family has never seen a beautiful thing that they haven't wanted to break.

author's note: chapter 2 is here, thank you for all the love on chapter 1! i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it ♡ be warned that this is heavy on the plot of episodes 3.08 and 3.09, so if you haven't watched the full show you may get a bit lost. please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

You have a tendency to get anxious when things are good for too long. A few weeks without a family fight, a month without a scandal, half a year without Kendall relapsing; nice things usually end in flames in your family. They make you superstitious, always looking around the corner for something to jump out and fuck everything up. So, when Lukas is good, you get scared. You expect some kind of backhand. A threat of blackmail, a tweet exposing your promiscuity, a package of anthrax at your door.

It never comes.

He calls you every night, your timezone, not his. Listens to you talk about your day and doesn’t press when you can’t give him details on the company. He loves to send you pictures, just of him doing the most mundane things. Lukas on a Zoom meeting, Lukas working out, Lukas eating dinner. Together, you fall into something almost domestic. It’s still a secret. You don’t open his messages in public, stay far away from any conversations about him at work that could lead a blush to your face. But when has anything in your life been completely honest?

He’s been begging for a while now to fly you out to Sweden. You know it’s a risk you shouldn’t take at the moment, but you entertain him anyway. When you ask why he wants to see you so badly, he says he misses you. Then he says he wants to fuck you on his desk.

That almost convinces you, and you’re about to start packing when a roadblock emerges. Your dad asks you to come with him and your siblings to Italy, for Caroline’s wedding. You hadn’t been planning on going, she wasn’t your mom and you didn’t have much of a relationship with her. In fact, you actually thought she secretly hated you, something to do with how quickly Logan married your mom after their divorce. Regardless, you didn’t want to go to the wedding. But when Logan Roy calls, you come. Always.

So the bags were repacked and you found yourself on a different private jet with your siblings, once again at the mercy of your family.

“She’s probably in sexual thrall to him. He’s driving her wild with his sugar dick.” Siobhan spoke matter of factly, completely oblivious to how absurd her words sounded. Still, it wasn’t the strangest conversation of hers you’d walked in on. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Roman was perched across the aisle from Tom and Shiv, sitting oddly in his seat, running his hand through his hair while he spoke. “All right, fine. Let him kill her for her emeralds and… screw us out of the fucking firm. See if I care.”

“Mommy issues?” You spoke up, setting your bag down on a free seat before moving to lean over the back of Shiv’s chair, kneeling on the seat behind it.

“Always. I didn’t know you were coming?” Rome turns to address you, eyebrows coming together in question.

“Dad drafted me. I think he just wants to terrorize Caroline with my presence.”

“I think you torment her enough by just existing. She doesn’t get to be the perfect mother of Logan Roy’s prodigal children.” Shiv pitched in, finally acknowledging your presence with a little smile.

“I don’t think I’m even invited to all the events. He’s just gonna have me working on the GoJo deal the whole time.”

“Oh! About the deal, I was talking to Karl and Frank-” Tom is addressing Roman more than you, but still gives you the courtesy of eye contact before your brother cuts him off.

“Yeah, no, you’re not really a part of that. Either of you, actually.” Rome nods his head to the couple, a smirk on his face charged by his current power trip.

“Well, I am.” Shiv interjects, annoyed.

“Well, I can’t fire you yet Shiv, because I’m still a little bit scared of you. But, my thinking is, when I take over, I’m gonna put you in the office next to mine and you’re gonna be my sexy secretary.” You just shake your head at Roman’s comment while he turns to head back to his seat.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Siobhan is more irritated than really upset, going back to her phone as Roman leaves the conversation.

“I dunno. We’re working on it.” He taps the back on his legs in a rhythm before sitting down. “Ongoing process.”

You address Tom, seeing the confusion in his eyes that people tend to get when talking to your brother. “We’re just working on outlining terms. Honestly, Gerri would be better to ask for specifics. I don’t know how much Dad wants me to say.”

Tom just nods in thanks, which you return with a small smile before heading to your seat. You’re across the aisle from Roman, who’s already curled up and ready to nap on the flight. Taking out your phone, you see a new message from Lukas, covertly labeled in your phone with just an “L.” You turn the screen away from your company, making sure to not catch the reflection in the window as you open his text.

Stockholm is a 4 hour flight to Italy.

Is it? I’ll be in the air for at least 10 hours.

10 hours without talking to you?

I think you can manage it.

I don’t know about Italy. I can’t be held responsible for what I do when I’m in the same country as you.

It’s a risk.

Will there be a reward?

…I’ll text you when we land.

He sends a picture of himself doing a kissing face. You send a heart emoji in response, hiding your face with your hand to conceal your smile.

It turns out that you were invited to a few events of Lady Caroline’s wedding. Not the ceremony, of course, but at least you were allowed to attend the receptions leading up to it. You weren’t going to be cooped up in a hotel room all weekend, signing documents and having Facetime sex with your not-boyfriend. In fact, you ended up at one of these events just a little after your arrival, a garden party full of snobby aristocrats and expensive champagne. It’s too hot out for your liking, you're already sweating in your semi-formal sundress and downing your second glass of cold bubbly.

You end up with Shiv, partially blocked from the sun by the shadow of her hat, quietly snickering at her and Tom’s jokes about a clueless cousin Greg. It’s surprisingly calm for one of your family gatherings, no shouting or challenging or worse. The tranquility snaps like a twig with a ding on your phones.

“Uh- Matsson…” Shiv speaks first, the two of you pulling out your phones simultaneously, her angling her screen to share it with Tom. A message from Karolina leads you to Matsson’s twitter page, and his latest tweet. It’s a goofy gif of his face with a Snapchat filter on it, the text reading ‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.” You’re half excited, half alarmed. You don’t really know if you should believe it at first but, against your better judgment, you hope it’s true. Hope he’s just an hour or two from you, the closest he’s been in weeks.

“What? Going to Macao? Feeling lucky?” Tom squints against the sun to see the Tweet before pulling out his own phone. “The fuck is that?”

“You get this thing from Karolina? It’s off the radar and now this? Is this- is it a move?” Gerri’s entrance is quick, followed closely behind by Roman. You open your mouth and close it again, not sure if your words will betray your duplicity.

“It, um, it could be…could be nothing, you know? Fucking social media fireworks!” Roman’s hand is threaded through his hair, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the light.

“‘Going to Macao, feeling lucky.’” Gerri repeats the four words, she’s as flabbergasted as everyone in this little Waystar circle. Business has once again interfered with pleasure. “Is he trying to boost his price?”

“Is he just rocking the boat?” Shiv’s voice is unsure, wavering from her usual monotone state. “Or trying to blow up the deal? I mean, has he got good subscriber numbers coming in?”

“Maybe he’s just going to Macao and he’s feeling lucky.” Tom chimes in as Rome steps away from the group, phone pressed to his ear in a call you can’t fully hear.

“I mean, yeah… It’s not out of his archetype to post something like this.” You shrug, not sure what to contribute that hasn’t already been said.

Roman finishes his call, turning back to you to speak. “I don’t know, it’s like, his thing. He’s a- a trickster.”

“Okay. Well, sounds cool. Is he gonna, like, steal our watches and fucking saw the deal in half?” Shiv’s getting upset, you know she likes control and she’s too far removed from this deal to do anything about Matsson’s stunts.

“Maybe!”

“You’re supposed to be inside this Rome!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Mattson’s not stupid, he wouldn’t deliberty fuck this deal and announce it to the world on Twitter.” You’re trying to reason with your siblings, though it’s not really working. Roman mostly ignores you, Siobhan rolls her eyes. Atleast Gerri and Tom look somewhat appreciative for your input.

“I am inside, Leave it.”

You’re done with the dialogue, done with being the peacemaker and getting stepped over by your narcissistic siblings. You throw your hands up, phone held in one and the other in a flat palm to signify your retreat before you walk away from the cluster. You hear Greg say something behind you but don’t bother to answer him, instead moving to find a quiet place far away from your siblings.

You end up in a corner somewhere, mostly blocked by trees and bushes, a little cubby hole you hoped was private enough to not be listened in on. Your fingers nimbly click through the apps on your phone, pausing briefly before pressing the call button on Lukas’s contact. It rings once, twice. Then, an answer.

“When are you coming over? Should I send you a helicopter?”

“Macao?” Your voice is higher than normal, laced in shock and thrill.

“Closer than we’ve been in weeks.” The smile is apparent in his voice, he’s pleased with himself, you hate it. And love it.

“You’re fucking insane. I didn’t think you were serious!”

“Yeah, I am. I’ll send my jet over.”

“Oh my God, I still cannot believe you. I can’t- my family is on high alert after your little rogue Tweet.” You laugh, not really mad at him, just eager and amazed.

“Oh come on, that was nothing.”

“It was a play to keep them on guard and you know it.”

“Well, partially. It’s for the numbers too. And for your attention.”

“It’s so hard to be away from you when you do shit like this…”

“Oh yeah? You miss me?” It’s a taunt, he knows the truth even if you deny it. So, you’re honest.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm… I miss you too. Keep thinking about what I’ll do when I see you again.”

“Lukas… I’m in public…” You can’t help but glance around, be sure you’re alone when he starts talking like this. His plan is already so clear to you.

“So you don’t want me to tell you about all the ways I’ll fuck you?”

“... Don’t do this to me now.”

“It’ll be just us in this house. I’ll take you wherever I want to. You can scream as loud as you want, don’t have to be worried about someone hearing.” His voice drops, there’s a small rustling on the phone. His words shoot straight to your core, a sensation beginning to form there.

“I’m at a fucking wedding party and you’re getting me turned on. You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You pause a moment, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before responding.

“I’ll call you tonight. Please be careful.”

He chuckles.“I will.”

When you hang up, your text thread with Lukas is immediately graced with a photo of his dick, hard and gripped tightly in his fist. It makes you inhale sharply, curse under your breath at the growing need between your thighs. You text him back, simply writing “Fuck you.” before clicking your phone off. It takes you a few minutes of breathing exercises, but you’re able to calm your desire and soothe the blush in your cheeks before returning to the party.

Nobody asks where you went, nobody even really cared that you were gone. You can blame it on Connor’s show of making a proposal, or Matsson’s antics occupying everyone’s minds, but this is how it always is with you. The good child. The innocent daughter. Forever right where she needs to be, never in anyone’s way, constantly willing to help. You disappear when you aren’t wanted, you emerge only when you’re useful. The perfect loyalist, somehow being turned to a deserter.

Lukas leaves Monaco before you can sneak away to see him. You know it’s for the better, but it’s still a disappointment. You resign to finish the family trip and visit Sweden as soon as you get home to New York, going along with the planned events, a false smile plastered on your face. It’s during Caroline’s bachelorette in Cortona when your plans change. You were nursing a glass of wine, silencing your discontent at the rooftop bar when Gerri approached you.

She dragged you around to speak with Roman, revealing that your Dad had once again put you on babysitting duty. Logan wanted Rome to go talk to Mattson at his house in Switzerland, and wanted you to keep him in line. He couldn’t trust Roman to not fuck the deal, but he didn’t want you to speak to Mattson alone. So, you were recruited to accompany Rome. Speak just enough to stop him from saying something stupid, but not enough to draw attention. It was a game you were good at, one you had been practicing since youth. You were loyal to a fault, and Logan always used it to his advantage.

Lukas is ecstatic when you tell him you’re coming. Less so when he learns Roman is accompanying you, but still thrilled. You ask him for discretion, first nicely and then sternly. You can’t afford to make your relationship, whatever it is, public. He knows this too, knows what your family would do if they found out, but can’t help teasing. It’s only a day after Logan’s request that you board a helicopter, headed to Lake Maggiore. Headed to Lukas.

Roman is oddly quiet on the flight, constantly on his phone or looking out the window, eyes blank. You know him well enough to see the anxiety clouding his mind, feel the nervous energy radiating off his body. You reach over to him and hold his hand. He looks annoyed. He doesn’t drop it. You squeeze his fingers gently, he returns the motion, lets you quietly comfort him until you land.

Lake Maggiore is beautiful, surrounded by the Alps and lush vegetation, villas and lake homes dotting the shores of the water. You move straight from the helicopter to a boat, which immediately takes off at high speeds, skating over the surface of the lake. The wind fucks up your hair, blows up the skirt of your sundress, almost makes you loose your sunglasses. When you finally dock, you quickly pull out your phone, using it as a mirror to fix your smudged makeup and windswept hair before your host arrives. Roman gives you a weird look, silently judging you for putting effort into your appearance. As if he doesn’t spend hours in front of the mirror every morning styling his hair to look perfectly imperfect.

When Lukas’s frame finally emerges from the hedges of his property, you have to bite your lower lip to hide your smile. He’s so himself, wearing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, not bothering with real shoes, just a pair of casual slip-ons. It almost hurts to see him and not be able to immediately kiss him. Jesus, your inner monologue sounds like something from a cheesy rom-com. You feel so love-struck, it makes you crinkle your nose in embarrassment.

The boat is tied up to the dock now, Roman perched on the side trying to make it onto solid land. The waves rock the vehicle back and forth, knocking him off balance and ruining his attempt at disembarking.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” Lukas has one hand in his pocket, the other reached out to Rome, close enough for him to grab. If he wanted to. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

“Piss off.” Roman swats his hand away, finally moving off the boat with a small jump. You move, taking his place on the edge of the boat. It’s a bit unsteady, but you manage getting on to the dock in just a few seconds. You shoot a smug smile at Roman before following the two of them up some steps, away from the water and onto Lukas’s yard.

“It’s nice to see you again, man.” Roman speaks first, breaking the silence that had fallen over you three.

“Yeah, yeah. Long time.” Lukas has his usual posture, slightly hunched and lanky, with his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

“This is an amazing place!” Rome looks around, you continue to follow him and Lukas through the lawn, letting them lead you as you observe.

“Yeah...”

“No?”

“I don’t know, it kind of freaks me out, to be honest.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“When I got it, I wanted everything to be perfect.” You climb a few steps, the group arriving at an outdoor pool area, lined with shrubs and facing the lake. “Now I’m sleeping on a camping mat until I get a deep dive on the best mattress in the world. It’s great- it’s great. I’m just not feeling great. I mean… I’m fine… Well, but, not really.”

You frown at his words. You want to reach out, hold his hand, touch his back, do something to comfort him. But it would be too obvious, too impulsive. Instead you nod sympathetically, catching his gaze for a moment.

“Maybe let’s leave the little feeley-feelings out of it. Cause I’m gonna give you nothing. Nothing!” Roman’s half joking. He hates emotions, tries to diffuse bad ones with humor, even if it feels inappropriate.

“Roman.” Your tone is a warning, pushing your sunglasses back on your head to give him a glare before turning to Lukas. “I get it. You want the best, but you don’t realize how boring perfection is when you always have it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Success.. It doesn’t interest me anymore. It’s too easy. It’s fucking… anyone can do it. Analysis plus capital plus execution. But failure… that’s a secret.” Lukas is looking at you like you’re the only person in the world when he speaks. Sometimes he thinks you can see into his soul, you somehow know him better than anyone. He takes his sunglasses off, using the collar of his shirt to hold them. His blue eyes look directly into yours.“What are you worst at?”

“Well… I… am never telling you any of my weaknesses. Ever. Never, ever, ever.” Roman breaks into the conversation again, disrupts the eye contact between you two. “And I won’t let her tell you any either. Stuff a sock in her mouth, a ball gag or something.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know, I am smart.”

“Cause I ream people. Juice em like oranges. I get way too into people, and they disappoint me.” He looks at Roman when he says that, but you can’t help but take his words as a warning. Things moved fast between you and Lukas, you’ve barely known him for a few weeks and were already opening your heart to him. Letting him into your mind, letting him rearrange the furniture there like he owns it. “Hey, I’m thinking of doing like a- quarterly up and outs at the company.”

“Oh, yeah. Firing people is like, 85% of why I get up in the morning.” Roman shrugs when he talks, moving to take his sunglasses off and hold them in his hand. “But, uh.. I do want to ask you about that tweet, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh the…” Lukas laughs, looks at you, back to Roman. He makes a face, sticking out his tongue to mimic the Snapchat filter on his tweet. “That one.”

“Yeah. Seriously, yes. You got like, big shit coming your way?” Rome uses his free hand to run his fingers through his hair.

“...Are you- are you asking me for material nonpublic information?” Lukas’s grin is lopsided, he’s testing the two of you, seeing how far you’re really going to go.

“Maybe. Were you trying to get your share price up by tweeting unverifiable information outside of normal disclosure channels?” You cut in, raising your eyebrows at him, tilting your head in a way a little too close to flirting. Roman smiles at that, watches you exercise your knowledge like a proud father.

Lukas’s voice is mocking, a fake sad cartoon tone coming over it. “No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He moves his hands to his eyes, pretending to wipe his tears. “So mean.”

“Do you want this deal? Are you into it… like, at all?” Roman asks next. You’ve moved a bit from your area at the pool, following Matsson as he slowly circles the water.

“Yeah, I am. I’m just a little Swedish, you know? I’m.. into equality.” He moves nonchalantly, like this deal isn’t as serious as it is. “I like getting into bed with people, but I also like to share it equally.”

“More of a merge than a takeover.” It isn’t a question, and it isn’t directed at Lukas. You turn to Roman as you say it, verbalizing what you both were thinking. Lukas just hums, doesn’t articulate a response. Even though you all know what it would be.

“Okay. We’re just… heading to Milan to lock things down with our Dad and the bankers. And the tweet- it just didn’t feel great. If you’re hoping to blow this whole thing up, just tell me, okay?” Roman’s anxiety is back, you can see it in the tense way he’s started to move, in the higher tone of his voice.

“I just want to get myself the best. Of everything.” Lukas looks at you when he says it, darts his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Roman’s too lost in his own head to notice it, or notice the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I fucking get that. Definlety.” Roman moves to pull out his phone, cursing under his breath when he reads a notification. “I uh- have to take a call really quickly. I’ll be in the boat, it shouldn’t take too long. Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll give her a tour.” Lukas shrugs, sounding indifferent. Rome nods at him, then you, and quickly takes off towards the dock, already lifting the phone up to his ear as he walks.

You watch him leave, round the corner and leave your line of vision before turning to Lukas, face neutral save for a hint of a smile. He’s less composed than you, smiling broadly and staring into your eyes. He walks closer to you, wraps his arm around the small of your back.

“Wanna show me around?” You raise your eyebrows in question, slightly rocking back and forth on your feet. He sighs quietly, nods, and moves to extend an arm for you to hold.

“There’s really not much to see. Your average rich person house.” You hold his arm, walking with him into the villa as he speaks.

The interior is nice. Well, you’re sure it cost several million dollars to furnish, but that was the standard you were used to. It’s Italian inspired with a few modern elements. You take note of the high end appliances everywhere you go. A thousand dollar air purifier, a ten thousand dollar toilet, a hundred thousand dollar refrigerator. Lukas really did want the best for himself. The downstairs looks strangely perfect, like there wasn’t really anyone living there. Everything is clean and immaculate, no traces of human life. This trend continues into the upstairs, only stopping when he shows you the primary bedroom. His bedroom.

It’s simply decorated, a bed, desk, dresser. A large TV mounted on the wall across from his bed, nightstands, some artwork on the walls. There are a few large windows on the farthest side of the room, offering a view to the lake. Most things are black, or gray, with a few navy blue accents here and there. You had slipped off your shoes when walking around the house, now you let the fall to the floor from dangling on your finger. Stepping into the room, you walk until you round the bed, seeing a camping sleep matt rolled up and leaning on a wall. The sight brings a little smile to your face before you turn to Lukas’s desk, fingers grazing softly against the wood of it.

He has a Macbook laying on it, a pair of over-ear headphones sitting next to it. There’s a cup with a few pencils and pens, a box of tissues. It’s not much, but it’s something. Above his desk sit a few wall mounted bookshelves, made of the same wood. The books on them are mostly motivational, shit that he definitely hasn’t read. One thing does catch your eye though, an older coding textbook written in Swedish. It looks worn, the spine cracked and the pages wrinkled. Your fingers move to trace along the row of books, following them until the shelf ends and you meet the wall behind it.

“I like it. Very you.” You move your gaze back to Lukas, who’s been leaning in the doorway, watching you explore.

“Very me?”

“It’s exactly what I pictured.” You walk up to him as he steps inside, right at the foot of the bed, just a few inches apart. “Have you really been sleeping on a mat on the floor?”

“Yeah…” You wrap your hands around the back of his neck as his sentence trails off and he moves to grab your hips, closing the distance between you.

“Lukas, just sleep on the mattress. Your back is gonna get all fucked up.”

“Probably. I just- I don’t trust it. I want something I know is good, you know?” His reasoning makes you roll your eyes.

“It’s better than a camping mat.”

“Hey- that’s the best camping mat money can buy.”

Your hand moves to cup his face, bringing him to you and planting a light kiss on his mouth. He tries to deepen it, follows your face when you pull away, looks like a sad puppy when you deny him.

“So you haven’t used the mattress at all…?” You smirk, quirking your eyebrows teasingly.

“Not yet…” Lukas grins, his eyes traveling from yours to your lips. “Why? Do you wanna help me break it in?”

You don’t answer, just smile, roll your eyes playfully, and move away from him. You turn so your back is facing the bed, and with all the drama you can muster, flop down onto the mattress. It cushions your fall nicely, though you do get left a bit breathless and giggly. Your knees dangle off the side of the bed, feet almost grazing the ground as you kick your legs.

“It’s really not bad.” You don’t bother raising your head, just direct your words to him knowing he’ll hear. “Not the best, but definitely ‘trustworthy.’” Laughing when he sighs in response, you throw your arms up and stretch theatrically.

You feel a hand on your knee, spreading your thighs wider apart. He slots himself between your legs, moves his hand to your waist, and pulls you quickly to him. The bed is high enough that your hips meet each other roughly, a gasp escaping your mouth at the sudden pressure on your vulva. Lukas is already half hard, and making the most subtle movements to grind you perfectly against his cock.

“Lukas… Roman is just outside…” You’re already a bit breathless, still allowing him to rub against you as you speak. He leans close to you, tall frame bending at the waist to brush his lips against your ear, still keeping his hips flush to your as he moves.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then.” He places a kiss to your jawline, starting a messy trail down your neck. Lukas pauses to nip the slope of your shoulder. “And you’ll have to be quiet.”

He lifts his head, eyes staring straight into yours, and waits for your response. Your lips are already parted, breath coming quick and cheeks flushed with desire. The lust clouds your judgment, as it always seems to do with Lukas. Impulse takes over and, with a hand threaded into his hair, you pull his mouth to yours roughly.

It’s rushed and powerful. All teeth and tongue, no time for being gentle, no time for romantics. You bite his lip, he groans into your open mouth. Your legs move around his hips, keeping his body close as he ruts against your clothed core. His movements started soft and teasing, but now he’s fully thrusting against you, rough and wanting. It feels hard and hot, has your eyes shutting and your mouth whimpering. You love being close to him like this, hearing his panting in your ear, his lips on your throat, his chest pressed to yours. But it’s not quite enough.

“Fuck Lukas, I need more.” He pulls his head from his attack on your throat, looks at you with a grin on his face.

“You need more?” You nod, a little frantically with a small hum. “Look at you, asking for things. Tell me what you want.”

You’re a bit hesitant, cheeks still red from the vulgarity of your situation. Your mouth opens and then closes again, biting your lower lip as you try to find the right words. His hand comes to your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your eye contact with him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I just want to feel you- really feel you.” Honestly, you don’t know exactly what you want. You’re so needy, you can feel how uncomfortably wet you’ve gotten and just need some kind of satisfaction. “You can fuck me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, not yet. I have plans for that, it’ll be special.” His words are a little shocking, but turn you on even more.

“Please Lukas. I need you.” Your voice is barely a whisper, laced with want. The motion of his hips has stopped and you feel yourself desperately grind yourself against him for some relief. His hands move to your hips to hold you in place, releasing the grip on your chin.

“I’m not taking your virginity in a quickie where I can’t even get you naked. And you need to be able to walk after this.” He moves and pushes your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. “Here you’ll like this.”

Your panties are soaked. His gaze moves down and he notices, gives a small chuckle, runs a finger up your clothed slit. It makes you shudder and whine deeply in your throat as a response. Hooking a finger around both sides of your panties, he pulls the fabric off with one quick motion, dropping them to the floor when he’s finished. He moves from between your thighs briefly, causing you to instinctively shut your legs. Lukas pulls down his pants then, just enough to expose his cock, hard and leaking already.

He moves back, uses a hand to gently spread your legs as the other grips the base of his cock. He’s so close, his dick hovering just above your cunt. Your eyes go wide with anticipation, a light gasp escapes from your lips. Then, Lukas moves. His hips angle downwards and, using his hand to guide his cock, he gently rubs his length over your slit. The feeling is immediately intense. It’s wet and strong and burning, and when his tip touches your clit you swear your vision goes white. You really can’t help the moan that escapes you, it’s Lukas that caused it.

“Shhh… I know, I know. But you don’t want someone to hear.” He leans over you, presses a light kiss to your mouth and grabs one of your hands. Moving your hand over your mouth, he helps you press your palm to your lips, muffling the noises coming from your lips. You nod in response, keeping your hand there when he moves his away, gripping back on to your hips to hold you in place. “Don’t want everyone to know how I’m corrupting you.”

Another moan leaves your mouth at that, luckily much quieter due to your palm. Your free hand flys down, grips over his on your hip. He keeps moving, parting your lips and spreading wetness across your pussy, hitting your clit perfectly with each thrust. A curse leaves his throat when your back begins to arch, the white hot feeling in your cunt growing fast. You can almost feel the restraint leaving his body, feel the roll of his hips getting heavier, harsher. A tear rolls down your cheek, your eyes wet with the sheer strength of this new pleasure you’re experiencing.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, so quiet for me.” Lukas’s accent is thicker now, his head tipping back in pleasure as he ruts against you with abandon, chasing his climax. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

That’s all it really takes for you to fall apart, cumming on his cock. Your orgasm hits in a wave, making your thighs shake and eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You’re incredibly glad for the hand on your mouth as it muffles the high moan that leaves your lips. You don’t see him with your eyes shut, but the groans you hear let you know that Lukas is not far behind you. A few mascara stained tears run from your eyes when you open them again, your gaze being met with Lukas’s head tilted toward the ceiling, his mouth open in pleasure.

His cock moves from your cunt, positioning over your lower stomach. His hand moves, jerking himself roughly as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand moves from your mouth, and you sit up a bit as you reach for him, fingers coming to rest on his hip to keep him close to you. Another low curse falls from his mouth, and with a gravely groan he cums. White ropes shoot across your stomach, resting on your skin warmly. You whimper in sympathy, watching as he twitches and bucks against his hand recklessly.

Lukas’s chest rises and falls quickly, breath coming fast and deep as his orgasm washes over him. When his eyes reopen, he’s quick to pull you up to meet his mouth with a burning kiss. The kiss isn’t long, but when you pull away he rests his forehead against yours, eyes shut and breathing slowly returning to normal. You stay that way for a while, just close and quiet. A few moments pass, and when he moves to stand back up you take the time to dart your hand down and gather up some of the cum on your pelvis, licking it off your finger as you raise it to your mouth.

He quietly laughs, blissed out and smiley. “You love that, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I don’t know- ‘just makes me feel close to you.” He kisses you again, softly this time, almost proud.

“I’m making a monster. First you ask me to fuck you and now you’re swallowing my cum.” He moves to his dresser, retrieving a hand towel as you sit on the bed, careful to not let any of his spend drip onto the sheets.

“Why didn’t you fuck me?” Your head tilts as you ask. He moves to kneel in front of you, gently wiping the cum from your skin as he answers.

“I told you, I’m gonna make it special for your first time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll even let you be my first time, now that you’ve rejected me.” It’s playful and he knows it, grinning up at you as he moves to wipe the wetness from the inside of your thighs.

“It wasn’t a rejection, it was a postponing.” Lukas stands, quickly cleaning off before tucking himself away and turning to look for your panties. “And who else would it be? Are you cheating on me?”

“No, but I can’t cheat on you if weren’t not together.” He pauses at that, head cocking as he makes eye contact with you.

“We aren’t together?”

“You haven’t asked me!”

“I thought it was self-evident. You don’t need to ask if it’s already obvious.” Lukas stoops to grab your panties from the floor, moving to hand them to you.

You accept the fabric in an outstretched hand, setting it on the bed next to you. “Well, I would like you to ask. Make it official.”

He gives a dramatic sigh, reaches out and grabs your hands to pull you to standing. Lukas holds your hands, smiles and looks into your eyes. “Will you date me?”

You think about teasing him, making him wait, but your excitement gets the best of you and you release your answer quickly. “Yes, I will date you, Lukas Matsson.”

Your kiss is domestic and cheesy, after you separate he pulls you back into his body, rests his chin on your head for a while while he holds you close. You end up leaving your panties with him, they're still too wet to wear comfortably. Lukas helps you fix your makeup and hair, and you check to make sure your lip gloss isn’t all over his mouth (it was). He fastens your shoes back on for you, kneeling in front of you so you don’t have to bend over with your still shaky legs. He holds your hand until you reach outside and you put some space between yourselves as you enter public once more.

Roman is just finishing his call when you get back to the boat, waving at you as he quickly hangs up. You give Lukas a handshake, Rome just shouts his goodbye from a distance, and you quickly speed off again across the lake as soon as you enter the boat. Once again separated, you swear you immediately feel heavier without Lukas’s presence.

Your brother thinks the deal is fucked, he makes that clear when you’re alone again. He half blames you, half blames himself. Either way, he’s scared shitless to tell your dad about Matsson’s merge idea. So it’s a major shock when you arrive in Milan and Logan is receptive to the proposal. He praises Roman openly for once, and even commends you on your role in negotiating the deal.

But good things don’t tend to stay good for long in your family. You know something’s wrong when Logan calls you and Shiv into his office abruptly, right before your meeting with the bankers is supposed to begin. It honestly doesn’t surprise you as much as some would think to learn Roman had been sexting Gerri. You try to defend him against Shiv’s attacks, but it doesn’t do much good, not when the evidence is sitting in front of you. At the very least, you make some kind of progress covering for Gerri, reminding your dad of her loyalty.

Things are weird and fucked the next day. The night before Comfrey had texted you to let you know that Kendall was in the hospital. She wouldn’t say what happened, just that they were keeping him overnight and he was okay. You texted your siblings but everyone was skirting around the answer with you. They knew you cared about Kendall, maybe too much, and that telling you he had nearly drowned (possibly by his own doing) would set you off like a firework.

You wanted to go visit Kendall the next day, or be there when he arrived at the villa, or just do something to help him out. But he didn’t answer your calls and all the information you were given was extremely vague. You weren’t invited to Caroline’s wedding ceremony, so you planned on staying in bed and Facetiming with Lukas all day, waiting for a response from your brother. Your day starts off that way, sleeping in and chatting with your boyfriend into the late morning, but then Lukas tells you about Gojo’s market cap. You knew he was good, you knew he was doing all he could to get the market in Gojo’s favor, but you never expected it’s worth would surpass Waystar’s.

It’s no surprise that your dad ends up calling you, recruiting you to join him on a trip to Matsson’s. When he tells you he’s considering not inviting Roman, you manage to convince him to bring him too, citing his friendship with Matsson as a cause. So you head to Lake Maggiore, again, and arrive at Lukas Matsson’s villa, again. The excitement you feel when seeing him is shrouded in the anxiety of the sudden meeting.

You feel like every glance between the two of you is obvious. The way he parts his lips, the way your eyes drift across his frame, it’s all unmistakable of two lovers.

Lukas leads the three of you to an outdoor area on his grounds and when the conversation starts, his intent is clear. He didn’t tell you he wanted to buy Waystar, well he may have hinted at it, but it still feels like a bit of a betrayal. Like a shock. Even worse of a shock, Logan doesn’t immediately hate it, not in his usual way.

“Yeah. This is not happening.” The rage isn’t there behind Logan’s words. His gaze drifts to Roman, then back to Matsson. Lukas raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, I see that. Understood. But, you want to stick around? See if the old deal still has shape? Side snacks?” Logan smiles, he actually smiles, at Matsson’s offer. “You have that Israeli AI operation I might like. Maybe an asset swap sort of thing?”

“Why not.” The eye contact between Lukas and your dad is never ending. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. “Rome, you should head back. For your mom, and everything.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Roman looks to you, motions with his thumb in the general direction of the dock. “Do you wanna…?”

“I’m not going to the wedding. Not invited.” You offer a small smile, look to Logan for reassurance.

“We’ll catch up with you later, Romulus.”

Roman is dejected. An intruder, again. An outsider in the deal he’s worked so hard on, the deal he partially started. “Alright. Hate to miss the big nuptials! So… yeah. I’ll just go do that then…” He’s hesitant to go, pats you on the leg as he leaves, Dad on the shoulder.

They wait to start speaking again until well after he’s left, and when they do it’s straight to business. Your dad wants to sell. Lukas wants to buy. You’re the reluctant bridge between. Things move inside, to a formal dining room, and the real discussion begins. Numbers start to fly, calls get made, lawyers begin flying out. You end up doing more work than you meant to, arguing for both GoJo and Waystar. Trying desperately to keep all the men in your life happy. At the same time, you’re conflicted. You know your siblings will hate this deal, you know how badly they want to inherit the company, how hard they’ve worked for one of them to eventually be CEO.

But the thing is, you don’t hate the deal. You were never going to lead Waystar, never going to be more than the founder’s child. You’re the youngest Roy sibling, a woman, and from a different marriage than the others. There was no chance of you ever being number one, and you knew that from the day you were born. So why not sell the company? You don’t want to dedicate your entire life to this soul crushing work. At the same time, you care so much for your family, more than you do for yourself. This would wreck your siblings, they wanted Waystar more than they wanted life itself. Even if being family owned fucks you, it means the world to them.

When you finally leave Lukas’s, it’s well past the wedding ceremony, and it’s clear Dad doesn’t intend on joining the afterparty. The operation moves to Logan’s villa. The cavalry marches in, dressed in designer suits and holding briefcases stuffed with Macbooks. There’s dozens of people you’ve never even met swarming around a huge table. It doesn’t even feel real, like you’re watching a dream, or a nightmare, play out in front of you. You retire to your dads private office, curl up on a leather upholstered couch and just think. You know you should tell your siblings. Siobhan and Roman have been blowing up your phone for hours, you haven’t had the heart to answer. Your dad would kill you if you reached out. Ostracize you like Roman, or disown you like Kendall. Your brain feels like a whirlpool, your thoughts flying around enough to give you a headache. You turn to the only person you can think of.

“Hi.”

“...”

“Are you okay?” Lukas’s voice is genuinely worried, silence isn’t normal in the conversations between you two. You hear a rustling on the other line like he’s stood up.

“I don’t really know. I wish you were here.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I feel like a traitor.”

“Why?”

“My siblings… you know they will hate this deal.” You stress the word hate, voice a little bit breathless with anxiety.

“I do.” His voice is quiet, almost whispering as he speaks to you.

“They would rather die than sell Waystar. But I-” You sigh, swallow thickly. “I almost agree with Dad. I think this is a good move for us. Not just because I’m fucking the guy who’s buying the company.”

“Well then, why do you agree?”

“If we don’t sell, we’re gonna get swallowed whole. All we have is the content, not the platform to back it up, not new technology to keep us relevant.”

“That’s all true.” Lukas’s voice gets a little louder, his sentences trailing off a bit as he prompts you to keep talking.

“But even if we had that, even if we were doing better, we were more stable…”

“You still would want to sell?” He already knows what’s on your mind. Of course he does.

“I think so… I mean, I will never be CEO. Not if we’re family owned, not if we’re owned by GoJo, never. And I don’t want to spend my life in this company, especially if I’m not running it.” Your head tips back against the wall you’re leaning on. You’re hiding away in a bathroom, your voice echoing a bit as it bounces off the marble walls. “This work… it fucking destroys people.”

“It sounds like you already know what you think.”

“But Shiv and Roman and Kendall… They want the company so badly. They’ve been prepped to run it since they were kids. Even if they kill each other for CEO, at least one of them would get what they wanted.” You’re louder now, voice still stressed but frustration peaking through.

“You need to stop wasting your life making other people happy. You would do anything for your family, and they wouldn’t do shit for you.” Lukas’s tone isn’t angry or yelling, it’s stating a fact.

“That’s not true-”

“Is it? I see you go above and beyond for them every single day, and they never spare you a second glance.” Lukas’s voice is almost pleading when he speaks next. “Think about yourself, for once. Please.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes are brimmed with tears, your fingers coming up to brush them away quickly. “I will.”

There’s a small pause before he talks again. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you about buying Waystar?” You laugh, breathlessly, at the simpleness of his question after all you’ve just talked about.

“No, I’m not mad. I was shocked…but I think it’s worn off. You’re just doing what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I think you’re really smart actually. If I was in your position I’d do the same thing.” You move from your stance against the wall to look in the mirror, checking to fix any smudged mascara.

“That’s what I thought. I asked myself what you would do.”

“No, you did not.”

“No, I did not. I did think about how it would affect you though.”

“Thank you for that.” It’s half sarcastic, but you know he really does care for you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll talk to you later today.”

“Okay. Come visit soon.” Lukas ends like he always does, asking for your presence.

“I’ll try.”

It takes you a minute to compose yourself. Fix your hair, wipe off some of your fucked up concealer, blow your nose. You exit the bathroom, walk down the hall and down some stairs, finally arriving in front of the massive wooden doors leading to your dad’s office. Your brain is finally quieter now, thoughts forming clearer and headache fading quickly. You slip a small smile to the bodyguard, Colin, who opens the door for you to enter.

Your three siblings are there, backs facing the door as they stare down Logan, who’s just moved to press a button on the phone resting against his desk. Their heads snap to you. The door shuts behind you. Siobhan opens her mouth, but you speak before she does.

“What’s going on? When did you get here?”

“What’s going on? You know what’s going on, Dad is selling and fucking our entire lives up.” Shiv faces you, her eyes are daggers and her body is a rocket about to explode. “And you didn’t tell us.”

“No, he’s not fucking your lives up. It’s not the end of the world, Shiv.” You approach them, eyes wide and pleading.

“So you do know. You knew he was selling the company and you didn’t think ‘Hmm maybe I should tell my siblings this, you know, since they’ve spent their entire lives thinking they were going to run Waystar!’” Roman throws his hands up, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are watering.

“Do you think it would’ve made a difference?” Your voice drops, both in tone and volume. “Do you really think I have any sort of control? Any say in what happens?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, Kendall won’t make eye contact with you. Logan is watching you intently before gazing at his other children’s faces.

“I have never, and will never, be number one. I will never have control over the company, I will never even have control over one branch of the company. I will never be CEO, I won’t even make it to CFO, because I will always be lower than you. And I will always be there for you to yell at and use and manipulate. You already fucking do!” You’re more angry than sad now, maybe it’s misdirected, but you’re too wound up to care. “For once in my life, I’m thinking about myself. And I will not let this shit, this work, destroy me like it has destroyed you.”

A few tears spill from your eyes, you don’t bother to wipe them up, just continue your eye contact with your siblings. You’re right and everyone knows it, from Gerri and Karl sitting on the couch to Logan in front of you. Shiv can’t hold your gaze anymore, she drops her eyes to the ground. Roman turns to your Dad, his eyes are wide and desperate.

“Please?” His voice is meek, barely a whisper.

“‘Please?’ You bust in here with guns, but now that you find they’ve turned to fucking sausages, you want to say ‘please?’” Logan moves from where he was half-sitting on the arm of a couch to stand in front of your siblings. “You should have trusted me.”

“Dad, why?”

“Oh you need me to tell you why? Like your sister didn’t already? But your too fucking ashamed to admit she’s right.” He begins walking to the door, past your siblings, pausing at you to put a hand on your shoulder. “Because it works. I fucking win. Now go on, go on, fuck off you nosey fucking pedestrians.”

The doors open, Logan is immediately tasked with papers to sign and business to attend to. Roman moves to Jerri, asks her something you don’t quite hear from the blood rushing in your ears, before moving back to the crowd of your siblings. Roman crumples to the floor, Kendall with his hands on his shoulders, Shiv next to them. You turn to see Tom entering, him offering you a weak smile as he passes.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Kendall.” Your voice is monotone. Ken looks up at you, opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. Tom starts speaking to Shiv, but you don’t hear what he says, already turning to walk out the doors, to head back to your hotel suite, to head away from your family.

You stay on the phone with Lukas the rest of that night. You can’t sleep but you don’t want to be awake. He eases the pain. He says he’s proud of you. He cares more than anyone you’ve known.

When you finally fall asleep in the early morning hours, you dream of space. You’re a cosmonaut, dancing on Saturn’s rings, playing baseball with meteors. The darkness is liminal, and pure, and calm. And the constellations are breathing around you, lighting your lawless orbit. You break the trail of a comet, its fire dotting the sky like a stitch on black cloth. Venus is a stray dog, following you wherever you lead it, spinning for attention and praise. Stars flicker like faces, you can’t recognize who they are anymore.

When you touch the Earth, everything sings.

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #succession #succession fanfic #alexander skarsgard #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x oc #lukas matsson x ofc #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson fic #lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson imagine #snow’s fics #a body of impulses #smut

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kingdumkum · 11 months

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WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up.

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?”

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms.

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you.

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely.

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.”

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours.

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm.

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you.

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.”

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—”

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills.

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you.

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real.

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago.

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement.

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.”

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes.

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—”

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that?

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face.

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth.

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth.

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face.

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.”

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold.

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?”

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist.

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name.

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up.

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt.

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?”

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you.

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.”

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along.

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.”

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it.

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?”

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can.

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot.

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped.

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all.

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you.

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

#baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #baji smut #keisuke baji smut #baji x reader smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #keisuke baji x reader smut #tokyo rev smut

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hulhudhonado · 11 months

Note

hi! may i request the sumeru men reactions to the reader asking for a hug?

Note: This is the first time I got a request. I was so excited I basically dropped everything else I was already writing to make drafts for this! I did my best I hope you guys like it, especially you random user! Thank you for the request! Please feel free to like, comment or reblog! I love hearing from you guys and engaging helps the posts reach a wider audience! Enjoy! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ASKING SUMERU MEN FOR A HUG

CW: A bit suggestive but it's very safe for work! Some swearing in wanderer's part.

HC: Reader is gender-neutral, Reader does not have a vision. Established relationships but it's in the early stages (Aka you guys just started to date).

Characters: Al Haitham, Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari and Wanderer

Al Haitham

“Absolutely not.”

You never felt so defeated. It seemed that no matter where, when, or how you asked, he almost always refused to hug you. It wasn’t as if you were asking much from him either. It wasn’t like it was a kiss or more. It was just a hug, and here you were being rejected by the person that you had planned a future with.

“Why not? It’s normal for people who are DATING to do it!” Al Haitham hummed, almost in agreement but he refused to answer. You huffed, before tossing your arms up in the air in a rage. “You can’t just ignore me either! Why are you dating me if you want to do nothing with me?”

Al Haitham raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “I’m supposed to do something with you if we are dating?” You couldn’t help but stare in disbelief. “YES! THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS TO DATE!” He hummed again, and you could feel yourself fill up with rage.

“But we already do things together, “ He nonchalantly said, pulling out a list from his pocket. “ You slept over at my house, ate food off my plate and even took sips from my glass, borrowed my clothes and took pictures of me multiple times without my knowledge. So it’s pretty clear that we do ‘stuff’, as a couple.”

You groan, hands falling on your face in defeat. “It’s different! We barely do anything intimate! I want to hold you! “ You sigh. Arguing with him always felt like pouring water into a bucket with holes, no matter how much you fill it up it all goes to waste.

“Intimate you say?” Al Haitham mumbled, setting the list from his hand to a side before making his way to you. “Oh, we have been very intimate.” You squinted at him. He must be joking right? You guys don’t even hold hands!

“Don’t joke about this. I’m being serious.” “Do I look like someone who would joke?” You unconsciously began to step back, why was he getting closer? You didn’t like that. It didn’t take long before you bumped against a wall and there was barely an inch between the two of you at this point. Al Haitham looked at you and all you could do was nervously stare back. Did you go too far this time?

He leaned towards your ear, and since the distance had shortened you could feel the heat coming off from his body. You spoke trying to ease yourself. “When have we ever been intimate?” Al Haitham scoffed, making you flinch as he was too close to you now. Everything was too loud. His breath was too loud, and you could feel the breeze on your neck, sending chills all over your body. Your heart was also beating too fast, you were certain he could hear it as clear as day and you knew he was going to make fun of you for being so tense around him.

“You clearly don’t remember but of course I do. I’m quite a light sleeper.” With that, you felt a hand slide up your back, and you felt your body jolt up. “Maybe you don’t remember the times when you would feel me up like this? I’m trying to sleep after a busy day and then I can feel your hands slowly creeping up.” His words were almost a whisper but his actions were loud. Another hand circled your waist and slowly both hands pushed you close to his body. Chest to chest, you could almost feel his heartbeat as loud as yours.

“I don’t mind, it does feel nice to be held once in a while. But no one wants to hug someone the entire day.” He slowly put his face to the crook of your neck. The hand that was once sliding your back now holding your head in place, while his other arm circled your waist making sure you couldn’t leave his grasp. “Tell me, is this not intimate enough?” He chuckled, nipping at your neck.

You lost it, immediately pushing him away. You have never felt so hot and you could still feel your heart racing. The parts where he held you felt cold but the sensation continued to sting. You couldn’t believe that you had been feeling him up while you slept. All this time you had been hugging him and it seemed Al Haitham had a limit for it. This was the most embarrassing thing you had to find out about yourself. You had no idea how to defend yourself.

“Well? Is that not intimate enough? Do you want to do something else? Your quota for hugs is up but I’m up for doing more.” He suggested a light smile on his face. You couldn’t handle this.

“NEVERMIND! PRETEND I SAID NOTHING!” And with that you bolted out of the door, leaving Al Haitham alone in the room. He chuckled to himself once more, picking up the list he had set down before looking through it once more.

“One more thing added to the list I suppose.”

Cyno

“If you win a match against me, I will consider it.”

You stared at him in shock. He must be joking right? “You’re joking right?” You ended up saying what you had been thinking. He shook his head. “Do I look like I am joking right now? I’ll tell you a joke later but right now I’m being serious.”

You sighed. You always refused to play a match with him. He always got so intense about genius invocation TCG and it also didn’t help that you were hopeless at card games. So in short he was setting you up for failure.

“I can’t believe this.” You mumbled to yourself, your hand pinching the skin between your eyebrows as you frowned in defeat. You can’t believe he would stoop this low just to play a card game with you.

“You know I can’t win.” “You won’t know until you try.” You huffed, an irritated smile on your lips as you looked at him in annoyance. “You already know I suck at card games. I lost at gin rummy, I always got last place in go fish and I even had to forfeit a match against Kaveh in poker! The man who always loses money! I lost to him!” You tried not to get embarrassed but who wouldn’t get embarrassed when they had to defend themselves by mentioning how much they have lost?

“Genius invocation TCG is different,” Cyno said, still refusing to budge. You could feel yourself wanting to throw a tantrum, but you decided to be the bigger person. You took a deep breath, calming yourself before you spoke up once again.

Who were you kidding, you were a petty bastard. “Well, I guess we can never hug or be close to each other. We can be the first couple in Sumeru that has any intimacy! Oh, parents will be so proud to tell our stories to children! “

You glared at Cyno who remained unphased. You sigh once more. “Whatever, I don’t have time to argue with you about this.” You began to turn around to leave but Cyno spoke up.

“What if I teach you?” You look over your shoulder to see if he was joking once again. He stood proudly, a face showing how confident he was in his ability. You groan, turning to face him once more. You didn’t want to argue with him.

“Fine.” You say, making your way towards him. “Let’s play a match.”

—

You don’t know what you expected when he said he was going to teach you how to play. You were not prepared for the fact he made you lean against him, his head resting on the crook of your neck while you both sat on the couch. Cards displayed in front of you lay in a mess.

You couldn’t think straight, his voice was right next to your ears, going on about which cards were the best supports and which character cards were the best. Wasn’t this technically a hug? He had his whole body wrapped around you. His entire body was interlocked with yours and you could feel the heat from his body radiate on yours.

His arms circled over yours, hands pressed on the back of your palms to make sure you held onto the cards correctly. His legs forced you to shut yours so he could sit behind you with ease. He had never been this close before. You never felt his voice this close to your ears.

You wondered if he noticed. Maybe this was what he planned from the start. Maybe he wanted to tease you a bit because of how much you tried to avoid him before. You decided to prod. “You know, If this is how we are going to play cards, maybe I won’t mind playing a couple of matches with you.”

Cyno stopped talking. You wondered whether he realised you caught on. Maybe he wanted to be this intimate with you and was just embarrassed to say it directly to your face. You waited for his answer. It almost felt like an eternity. Both your bodies are so close, almost as if you both were one. He finally spoke up.

“We can’t play cards like this. Otherwise, I will see your entire deck when we play an actual match.”

You never wanted to hit someone so badly.

Kaveh

“What?!”

You blink confused. “I just asked for a hug?” You question yourself, did you say something wrong? Kaveh stared at you, before replying with a nervous chuckle. “Ah yes, of course. A hug! Sure sure! Come here!” He said, extending his arms towards you.

You could see he was shaking a bit. Was he nervous? You almost felt bad asking him for a hug. He was shaking like a wet dog. “You know, it’s ok if we don’t hug? We can take our time with this.”

Kaveh blinked, his nervousness disappearing and replaced by sudden guilt. He dropped down on the couch, face covering his hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make it a big deal.” He mumbled, refusing to look up at you.

You sat across from him, waiting to see if he would continue to speak. When you realised he wasn’t going to budge you sighed, speaking first. “Is something wrong? You always overthink these things so I would prefer if you just told me outright.” You ask, you always considered communication as an important role in a relationship. Kaveh was one to put up walls whenever you tried to initiate any form of intimacy, whether its words or actions. You just wish he could tell you why.

“I just..” He cut himself off. Suddenly he sat straight up, placing his hands on his knees before taking a big breath. “I haven’t been hugged in almost years.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. “What?!” Kaveh flinched at our outburst.

“What do you mean you haven’t been hugged?” You ask more confused than ever. “Ha well, you see I haven’t seen any of my family in years. And you know my friends, they aren’t your typical huggers.” He chuckled nervously, trying to play out what he said as a joke. Seeing that you didn’t laugh with him, he coughed in his hand in embarrassment. “ So, physical touch is not something I am used to.”

You both stayed in silence. Which made Kaveh more nervous. You could see how his leg would bounce up and down impatiently and how he refused to look you directly in the eyes. “I’m not going to be mad at you for not hugging me. If we have to take baby steps to help you overcome it then it’s fine. So if you want, we can start now or later.”

He finally looked at you, a calm smile dancing on your lips. You extended your arms out to him, encouraging him to take the first step. “It’s all up to you. We can stop at any time.” Kaveh anxiously looked at your arms, before slowly inching towards you.

It took a while but he embraced you. You could hear how loud his heartbeat was, and the heat rising on his cheeks felt warm on your neck. You thought he was immediately let go but to your surprise, he clung on a bit tighter. You took this as a sign to wrap your arms around his back. He felt very warm to your touch.

The tension on his shoulders loosened. As he slackened a bit you could suddenly feel his entire weight on your body. Unable to hold him up you felt yourself slowly pushed back on the couch. “Oof!” You let out, when you finally collided on the couch, Kaveh’s full weight fully pressing you down on the couch.

The minute you yelped, Kaveh immediately pushed himself off, now facing you as you lay beneath him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to push you down like that!” You let out a slight chuckle, your hand instinctively pushing a strand of hair out of his face. His face was already red from how shy he got from the hug but it seemed to get redder the more you played with his hair.

“Don’t worry about it. See? It’s not that bad.”

Tighnari

“I don’t mind but is this really the right time?”

To be fair he wasn’t wrong. You both were currently patrolling amongst the forest floors in Gandharva Ville and just finished clearing up a fungi infestation that was expanding nearby. So now you both were covered in mud and dirt, sweating profusely while making your way back to the Ville. So in theory, this was not the most ideal place to hug.

However, Tighnari barely has any time for you! Sure you guys are dating, but it’s very clear you both value your jobs too much! Anytime he is free you’re already back in Sumeru City to give the reports to the higher-ups and when you could finally make time for him he is already out patrolling before night comes. The minute you both come back you guys are so tired you immediately fall asleep where you stood. Heck, one time you had passed out near the entrance while he somehow ended up on the roof!

To put it simply your jobs were ruining any chance of you both from having any physical contact and now it was driving you insane. It didn’t help that Tighnari’s fluffy tail was always teasing you from a distance. You could kill if it meant you could hold it even for a second.

Today you both were finally able to patrol together after having your schedules never align for almost weeks. You even begged Collei to stay back just so you could have some alone time with him. You know you shouldn’t try to do anything inappropriate while doing your job but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You both were heading back to the Ville anyway. You’re certain the minute you guys reach and finish your reports you both would be too tired to do anything together! This was your only chance! “I know it’s not ideal but we barely have any time for each other! Please just for a minute!” You pleaded, begging he would budge.

Tighnari was one to do his job, he rarely deviated from his goal till he was done with it. But you were right, even he was getting impatient about how little you both could do together. He sighed. “Fine, just a hug.” You could almost hear angels sing the minute he agreed to your request.

“Anyway make it quick-” Before he could continue, you already pounced, cutting him off. Unable to hold your sudden weight, you both fell to the ground, more mud spilling to the sides. “Ew…” Tighnari groaned. You didn’t care about the mud or the fact you both were sweating like pigs. You had your arms already wrapped around him in an instant. Your face on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steadily. Who knew such a simple gesture as a hug would bring you such comfort?

Tighnari looked down to see you grinning happily. He couldn’t help but smile as well, wrapping his arms around you as well. He stroked your head and rubbed circles on your back. It was pretty clear you both needed this. He wasn’t sure how long you both stayed like that but he could see the sky begin to turn shades of orange and yellow, indicating the sun was setting.

“We should really get going now. “ He said, looking down at your form. To his disbelief, the sudden warmth and comfort you had gotten from his hugs had caused you to fall asleep. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me….” He groaned again, remembering that you were in fact, a heavy sleeper.

He had to carry you back to Gandharva Ville by himself. Lucky for him even in your sleep you refused to let go of him while he piggybacked you there. He began to take a mental note that maybe you both should request fewer hours of patrol and align your schedules together. He was not risking you falling asleep every time you both embraced. But for once you both will be able to go to sleep in each other’s arms.

Wanderer

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

You honestly weren't surprised that was his response to you when you had asked for a hug. The day was tiring enough and all you wanted to do was cuddle with your partner after working all day and that was the response you had got.

Wanderer, Hat Guy, or whatever he was called was technically your partner. As in, he agreed to date you when you ended up blurting out that you found him quite attractive, however, he was far from a good partner. He didn’t like to hold hands. He refused to hang out with you in public. He won’t even eat with you!

Now here you were again, getting rejected once more by your ‘partner’. “Why would you say it like that?” You mumble, feeling embarrassed you thought he might have had a change of mind. Of course, to no one’s surprise, he didn’t. He scoffed. “What are you talking about? You humans always want to focus on such fickle things.”

You glared at him. You couldn’t believe you were dating this fool. Maybe it was your mistake of ever thinking he was cute. “It isn’t ‘fickle’. It’s what couples do!” You try to defend yourself. He, of course, was the outlier when it comes to dating. You weren’t sure if he had ever dated before. Even if he did, he was probably terrible at it even then. “If you don’t want to do any of these things with me then why did you agree to go out with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, he remained unphased with your outburst. “And it’s important to you?” You wanted to strangle him. He must be joking right? “Of course, it is important to me! I want to feel like we are a couple…” You huffed. Talking to him felt like smashing a wall with a hammer, only to find out he had already built another layer on the other side. No matter how many times you smashed it, he already had another one ready to piss you off.

He hummed, and all you could was stare, wondering whether he would respond. Seeing that he was not responding to it, you sighed. “You know what? Never mind, pretend I didn’t ask. Maybe we shouldn’t date, I don’t think we have the same values.” He immediately shot up, his entire attention now focused on you.

“Now wait a damn second” He started but you immediately cut him off. “Face it! We have nothing in common and you don’t want to do anything I want. Not only that, you have no plans for me too! “ You could feel that you were probably going to start rambling. But the minute you start it’s almost impossible to stop.

“You don’t want to do anything with me! Especially in public, we haven’t even gone out for that long but surely a walk together around the city wouldn’t be a bad idea? Not only that, you don’t even want to be seen with me at all! Am I that embarrassing to be around?” You continued to babble about. Unbeknownst to you, he already made his way towards you.

Before you could continue your rant, he wrapped his arms around you. You yelped, suddenly realizing he had picked you up as if you weighed nothing. Not only that, you were clearly levitating off the ground. You began to panic, trying to push him away, only resulting in him hugging you tighter, refusing to let you go.

“Let go of me!” You whined, trying to kick your feet, your hands on his shoulders trying to push him off. He was cold. A hug usually felt warm, but against your warm body, he chilled you down. As you begged him to let you go, he finally spoke. “I’ll let you down if you stop complaining. Deal?” You nodded eagerly. You were not a fan of heights and you didn’t want him to fly any higher.

“Good.” He said, slowly descending back to the ground, however even after he put you down he refused to let you go. “Now listen here you idiot, I don’t know what your plan is but I don’t plan on breaking up with you over something so minimal. However, if you think these things are important I’ll try to do them often. But before that let me make everything clear.”

He put his forehead on yours, closing any gap you had between the two of you. While your face began to burn up due to the realization of how close you both had become, his face remained unchanged. Unconsciously your hands slid back to his back, pulling him closer to you.

“Firstly, I don’t eat, especially because I don’t need to eat to maintain myself, so I consider it a waste.” He spoke in such a hushed tone now, you couldn’t believe how gentle he was at the moment. You weren’t even sure if you could concentrate on what he was saying. His words echoed in your ears like a siren, bouncing on the walls inside your mind.

“Secondly, I am being constantly monitored, due to reasons, and I don’t want a certain person to realize that we are together because she is not going to let me hear the end of it. “ For once you could see a faint redness on his cheeks, however, there was almost no heat that radiated from his body. He looked like a doll, and for once you began to realize how pale he was.

“Finally, you are the first person I have ever ‘dated’. I have been amongst humans for a very long time, but this is the first time I have gone beyond friendship. So this is a first for me. “ He pushed you back. You almost let out a whine, refusing to leave his embrace but he was going to overpower you in that sense. You missed the chill he gave you, now only surrounded by the warmth your own had produced.

While you pondered on how you missed his touch, he continued to speak. “I’m rude and blunt. I am not someone who understands why humans want to do certain things, however,” he grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly in his palms, almost as if he didn’t plan on letting go. “ If these things are important to you then I will try to do them. I apologize for frustrating you. There, you happy now?”

You stared at his hands which grasped yours. Wanderer frowned, unhappy with how you have refused to respond to his speech that he did his best to articulate. “Well?” He impatiently asked. You looked up at him, a cheeky grin on your face.

“I’ll be happier if you hug me again!”

#genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #al haitham x gender neutral reader #al haitam x reader #cyno x reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader #tighnari x gender neutral reader #tighnari x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x gender neutral reader #sumeru men x reader #sumeru men x gender neutral reader

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