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muniimyg · 2 months ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

note: uhhh... angst, fluff,, face fucking/freaky sex (period sex) LOL .... nothing too crazy but it's def intimate. jus wanted to let u guys know part 20 is the 'epilogue' for the plotline ,, the continuation will go on from part 21-25,,, (onwards if i have more drafts) but that's all i have planned for now !!! thank u so much for reading along,,, it's truly been a pleasure to be loved and seen by u all <3 much love !!

୨ৎ playlist ୨ৎ

war - keshi ; you always got something you wanna prove / and i've got nothing left to lose / don't know what we're fighting for / i'm tired of going back and forth

intro (end of the world) - ariana ; i'd rather tell the truth than to make it worse for you / if the sun refuse to shine / baby, would i still be your lover? / would you want me there? / if the moon went dark tonight / and if it all ended tomorrow / would i be the one on your mind?

labyrinth - taylor swift ; uh oh, i'm falling in love / oh no, i'm falling in love again

that day.

when someone who loves you more than life itself proposes, you say yes.

that’s what you’re supposed to do.

you’re supposed to kiss, plan the wedding, get married, and live happily ever after. it’s supposed to work out. it’s supposed to.

yet, there you stood in front of the love of your life and a ring between you two. silent, eyes flickering back and forth from his to the ring. your gaze traces the cut and falls in love with how the diamonds shine. the band is the perfect thickness and there is nothing more you want in the world than to put it on.

you know what to say.

the words are right there, waiting on the tip of your tongue. so easy to speak out, so tempting to do… but with every breath and exchanged look with jungkook, there’s something inside you that stops you. you search as fast as you can, running through your mind with the leftover excuses and justifications of why it’s still a no.

then, your mind stops spinning the moment you realize; it’s just not the right time. at least, right now isn’t.

it’s not that simple to understand and accept. you, yourself, have a difficult time figuring out why you can’t just live and be happy. why you can’t accept the proposal right now since you believe in jungkook so much… perhaps, the best way to put it is; it’s stormy. there’s fog, the rain is pouring, and it’s cold. you know the storm won’t last forever. the sky will clear soon… but it’s not now. right now, the storm needs to calm.

only time can do so.

only time can bring the calm.

so, you answer jungkook with a heavy heart but a clear mind.

“can i have some time? please, jungkook…”

his shoulders drop, but his heart feels more than ready to wait. why? because contrary to popular belief, the world didn’t end when you didn’t answer jungkook’s proposal.

who was he to deny you of some time? both of you knew the real issue wasn’t whether you loved him—it was everything wrapped around it.

he gives you until the end of the week to make your choice.

jungkook fills the next 3 days with clingy text messages and random visits to your place. each day, he makes playful comments about how he’s packing up and doesn’t know where to put his things... should he drop them off at your place or ship them to new york.

you roll your eyes and ask, “are you staying there forever?”

in response, he huffs cheekily and says, “only if you break my heart.”

the truth is, you could never do it.

you could never break his heart.

it’s too precious.

it’s quite literally half of yours.

after he proposed and granted you time, the two of you talked about how the week should go. yes, you would give your answer eventually, but more importantly, the focus should be on zion. he’s the center of your relationship, and your decision shouldn’t change the fact that you’re both his parents.

which brings us to now...

sitting in the back of zion’s daycare room with your phone out, more than ready to capture the upcoming moments. but as excited as you are, a nervous buzz hums beneath your skin. maybe it’s just a mom thing. watching your son grow and take part in these little social moments moves you in ways you never expected.

“honey, why are we sitting so far away—”

“oh, you made it!”

“i wouldn't miss this for the world,” jungkook smiles, rushing to your side. he leans in and kisses your cheek, the warmth of his lips sending a comforting flutter through you. settling beside you, he glances at the classroom filled with eager children. “hi mama. is it his turn yet?”

you nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. “is it weird we’re here during their circle time? like, are we controlling parents? we could’ve just asked for a video to be sent to us—”

“next, we have zion sharing—oh, wow! friends, it looks like zion brought so many toys to show and tell for us today… maybe he can pick just one to present?” zion’s teacher announces, patting his back and helping him open the bag.

your cheeks flush with a blend of embarrassment. wide eyed, jungkook whispers, “holy fuck, you packed him so much shit—“

“shhh! what was i supposed to do? he couldn’t decide, and i didn’t want his first show and tell to be something he wouldn’t remember!” you playfully shove jungkook, who chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“you spoil him too much.”

“says the father that buys his 3-year-old stussy clothing and calvin klein underwear.” you bite.

jungkook shrugs and tilts his head. “dilf behaviour, i don’t know.”

his reply makes you laugh. then, you both turn your attention and watch zion bend over and shuffle through the bag. his small hands search for the perfect item, only revealing he’s found it through a big smile. when he finally makes his choice, the teacher smiles brightly and helps him retrieve a photo from the depths of the bag.

“friends, today zion wants to share a family photo!” she announces, handing the photo to him. zion beams with pride as he holds it up, encouraged to walk around the circle to show everyone. when he notices you and jungkook in the back, his giggle fills the room.

the family photo he chose to share is one of you, jungkook, and zion in bed. zion is 2 years old in the photo with bedhead. it’s his birthday. there’s a cake and a sleepy smile on his face while you and jungkook have paper party hats on, both cheek to cheek with zion.

you should’ve seen this coming.

of course zion picked this. his favourite memory in his entire 3 years of living is when he woke up in bed and had birthday cake for breakfast. you all look so happy.

“guys, look! that’s my mommy and my daddy!” he exclaims, pointing excitedly.

suddenly, all twenty pairs of wide eyes turn toward you and jungkook, and you can’t help but laugh awkwardly, waving at the children. “hi friends,” you say softly. “i’m zion’s mommy, and this is zion’s daddy—”

“daddy bought mommy a new car!” zion adds proudly, his voice echoing in the small space. “can i show and tell the car? is it outside mommy—oh! and he bought her a ring too! it’s so big! like a rock—”

a few children burst into laughter, while others shout out eager questions. just then, one little girl runs up to you, her eyes wide with curiosity. “zion, where is the ring?” she asks, looking up at you with innocent expectation.

zion shrugs, clearly unfazed. “at home,” he replies. “mommy always puts it on and then takes it off. on off, on off, on and off!”

“is your daddy rich?” one child shouts out.

“my mommy is richer.” zion says proudly. “she’s a lawyer.”

“what’s your daddy’s job?”

zion shrugs. “i don’t know. he always looks at art on his computer. daddy, what’s your job?”

jungkook chuckles. “i’m a visual director for advertisement.”

“yeah, okay. that.” zion nods. “... anyways, i want to be a lawyer like mommy when i grow up.”

your heart skips a beat as jungkook’s lips tighten. you exchange a panicked glance, his brows furrowing as he takes a deep breath, trying to suppress a laugh amid the unexpected attention and embarrassment from the twenty curious kids.

zion’s teacher gently guides his friend back to the circle, asking zion questions like, “how does this photo make you feel?” “where was this photo taken?” and “why did you choose to share this photo?”

zion, beaming with pride, answers one of the three questions.

“i wanted to show and tell this photo because i love my family. mommy always kisses my booboos and daddy always makes me pancakes. i love it when we sleep in the same bed and they tickle me in the morning… i think they tickled me here too! and i love it when i'm sick and they buy me lollipops... oh, and i love my daddy because he teached me my abcs...” he says, nodding his head with determination. “but also, i love my mommy more than daddy because i just do.”

the other children burst into laughter, their voices mixing in a delightful cacophony of familial love. some shout out their own preferences, choosing sides between mommy and daddy. you can’t help but chuckle at their innocence. jungkook claps, his laughter joining yours, and together you send zion an enthusiastic thumbs up, a shared pride swelling in your chests as you watch him bask in the attention.

when the circle ends, zion’s teacher insist you two stay for a bit and observe zion with the children. you and jungkook spare 10 extra minutes before needing to leave for work. before you leave, you pick up zion and give him a tight hug.

“i can’t believe you chose us over your toys, my love! that was so speical to us, z!” you exclaim, showering him with kisses on his cheeks and neck. he giggles, jumping in your arms.

“because i love you, mommy—”

“hello?” jungkook cuts in, scooping zion from your arms. “daddy is here too... say you love daddy too…”

zion nods. “okay, i love daddy too. i love mommy more—h-hey”

jungkook also attacks zion with kisses and tickles, their laughter filling the room. when the moment ends, he puts zion down and ruffles his hair. you and jungkook bid him goodbye, promising to come back for pickup in a few hours.

tonight you two plan on celebrating the fact that you and jungkook—despite all the distress and separation—made it known to zion that you are family no matter what.

he is loved no matter what and he is chosen above all else.

which is why this is so special to you and jungkook—

zion chose you two.

for dinner, you and jungkook decide to cook together.

you two haven’t done this in almost a year. usually, it’s one or the other. tonight, it was special… and for important reasons, zion requested a cake. you and jungkook grant it under the condition that he entertains himself with his toys while you and jungkook cook.

jungkook takes over with the prep as you begin to cook the meal together. he teases you a few times, joking that the food is burning. before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you and helping you cook.

it's crazy, isn't it? you would think that jungkook would be sore loser when it comes to rejection... but since it technically wasn’t rejection; he's soaking these moments up. any and every moment with you—he's taking.

“is this really a two person job?”

“mhmm,” jungkook says, sneaking a kiss on your neck. “you know what else is a two person job?”

you tilt your face and squint at him.

he mimics your expression before pecking your lips.

“focus on cooking. i know it’s hard with me being this handsome and my big ass dick—”

“shut up.”

“yes honey.”

the rest of the evening slips by in a blur.

the dinner is simple but comforting, the kind that fills your heart as much as your stomach. laughter bounces around the table, mixing with the quiet clinking of plates and the warmth of home. after the meal, the three of you gather to cut the cake, zion’s small hands eager as he grabs his slice. it doesn’t take him long to devour it, chocolate smeared across his cheeks and lips. before you can reach for a napkin, he’s off—bolting toward the living room with that familiar burst of energy.

jungkook chases after him, laughter trailing in their wake, filling the space even after they've left. you excuse yourself, slipping away to the bathroom, the echoes of their voices lingering in the hall.

when you return, you pause at the doorway, the sight before you making your heart melt. your boys—your entire world—are sprawled out on the carpet, toys scattered around them in a beautiful mess. zion’s baby trash talk fills the room, his little hands batting at jungkook’s as they wrestle in the softest, silliest way. it’s these moments that make time stop, where everything feels so perfect it almost hurts.

"what do you love the most about mommy?" jungkook asks, his voice playful but curious, pulling zion close until their noses nearly touch.

zion scrunches up his face, clearly deep in thought, but you know him too well—he’s stalling. "umm... i don't know. she's pretty."

jungkook raises a brow, amused. "yeah, she is... but you pick her over me any chance you get and you don’t know?"

zion shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "yeah... i love mommy because i just do." then his face lights up as if he’s stumbled upon a great revelation. "but also because she buys me better toys than you..."

jungkook’s laughter rumbles through the room, shaking his head. "i think my favorite thing is how hard she works for our family."

zion’s head tilts, curious. "cos she’s a lawyer?"

"yeah," jungkook agrees, then his voice softens. "but also because she loves us a lot. she does so much to make sure we’re fed, loved, and somehow always on time. you know, z, i’ve loved mommy for a while now... i can’t wait to love her for even longer. you think she’s gonna marry me?"

zion thinks about it for a second, then shrugs again. "maybe."

"maybe?" jungkook gasps, feigning panic. "you're supposed to be on my side!"

zion's laughter explodes as jungkook attacks him with tickles, his tiny body squirming beneath jungkook’s strong arms. the sound of their laughter fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making your chest tighten with an emotion you can’t even name. it’s love, yes, but it’s more than that—it’s contentment.

the kind that comes from seeing your entire heart laid out in front of you, scattered in toys and giggles and moments too precious to capture fully.

you step into the scene, quietly noticing how zion’s eyelids have begun to droop, a yawn escaping his small lips. jungkook notices too, his eyes flicking to the clock before he decides it's time to get zion ready for bed. surprisingly, zion doesn’t argue this time. instead, he bounds toward the bathroom, his energy fading but still there in the way only a child can manage.

as jungkook jogs past you, he smacks your ass, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he chases after zion. you huff in mock annoyance but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. there’s a lightness to it all, a warmth that settles deep in your bones, and even as you start tidying up the scattered toys and cluttered living room, you feel that fullness.

by the time you finish, jungkook and zion are still in the bathroom, their voices muffled by the sound of running water and sleepy giggles. you head to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate, as you begin washing the dishes, the weight of the day catching up with you. but even through the exhaustion, all you feel is love. it's in the quiet moments, in the laughter, in the way your home feels more alive when the two of them are near.

it's everything.

it always has been.

as you stand by the sink, hands submerged in warm soapy water as you scrub the dinner plates; you can’t help but think about today.

today was good.

after you and jungkook left zion’s daycare, you had to get back to the firm. jungkook insisted on driving you, but you brought your car too. instead, you asked him to walk you to your car. happily, he does so. when you two got to your car, you opened the trunk and gave him a gift bag.

“what’s this?”

“open it.”

“an umbrella?”

“use it.”

he laughed, kissed you, and uttered against your lips; “we’re so not over.”

then, you two parted ways.

as you wash the dishes, you think back to it.

how his hands were placed around your waist as you two walked out of the daycare. how he kisses you whenever his eyes fall onto your lips. how he laces your fingers together every chance he gets. how he shows up as zion’s father despite all the shit you throw at him… it’s everything to you.

he’s a good man.

your mind begins to wander as you think of all the things you want to say to him but can’t. things you’ve kept tucked away, hidden beneath the day-to-day rhythm of life. you think about the moments when everything felt too heavy, when the world seemed to close in on you, and all you wanted was him.

in the depth of your misery, all you could think of was crawling to him—slipping into his arms, burying your face against his chest, and letting the weight of everything fall away as you cried your heart out.

you wanted to ask him to fix it, to take the burden from you like he always could, as if his love alone had the power to make everything right again.

because love... love should be enough, right?

in your heart, you know that’s all you’ve ever wanted from him. for the love between you two to be enough to overcome the exhaustion, the stress, the compromises...

you’ve built so much together—beautiful things, a life, a family—but in the quiet moments, you still find yourself wishing it could just be about the two of you again. before the responsibilities, before you had to be anything more than his and him yours.

you imagine a different version of this life (not that you want it. you wouldn’t trade zion for the world). one where you’re still young, where the only thing you have to worry about is each other. no careers pulling you in opposite directions—no complications that need constant juggling or guilt. just him and you, lost in that simple, intoxicating love you both fell into so easily.

if it were like that, you know you’d choose him in a heartbeat. without hesitation, without the doubt that sometimes creeps in when the days get too long. you still would choose him, even now, with all that’s at stake.

because the truth is, you always choose him.

you choose him in every quiet glance, in every tired smile at the end of a long day. you choose him when he makes you laugh, when he frustrates you, when he softens just enough for you to see that vulnerable part of him he hides from the rest of the world.

and even when things get hard, when life feels overwhelming, and you're standing on the edge of that misery, you still want him. you want him beside you, even if love isn’t always enough to fix everything. because, deep down, you know that with him, it’s enough to keep going.

and maybe that’s what matters most.

not that love can fix everything, but that it's the reason you keep trying.

but it’s different now in the sense that you have more things to consider. zion, the people around you, your careers, and your own desires. how do you do this? how do you love him and give him everything but at the same time; do it for yourself too?

every day for the past 9 months felt like war. like you had to constantly choose one or the other.

marriage or new york.

why can’t you have both?

maybe that’s the answer.

as jungkook finishes putting zion to bed, the quiet creak of the floorboards announcing his presence behind you. without saying a word, he picks up a dish towel and starts drying the clean plates, his shoulder brushing against yours gently.

"so... i was thinking," he starts casually, “maybe we should start planning for these 3 months. you know, like, zion’s schedule, dinners... that kind of stuff.”

you sigh softly, rinsing a glass. "we’ve got time," you mutter, brushing it off without meeting his gaze. "it doesn’t have to happen right now."

jungkook pauses, drying his hands before leaning against the counter. "i just think we should be prepared," he says, his tone still light but with a hint of seriousness creeping in. “i know you still have time left, but i’m not so sure our plans do—”

“what do you mean our plans? jungkook, you’re not taking zion—” you place the glass in the drying rack, feeling the pressure of the upcoming separation tightening in your chest. "we don’t have to plan every single moment, jungkook. why do you always do this? we have time."

“we have 4 days.”

“4 is plenty.”

“is it?” jungkook asks, voice shaking. “is it easy for you, ___? going back and forth, putting the ring on and off… telling me i can’t make plans—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“what do you mean, then?”

the room feels charged with tension as jungkook’s gaze hardens. he can see the conflict written all over your face, the way your shoulders tense and your hands move a little faster. "___, i just want us to be ready," he insists, his voice softening. "we need to figure out how to make this work."

you turn to him, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"no. it's not easy for me, jungkook. it’s scary as hell when you do this,” you snap. “planning the rest of our life together when we’re only just recovering from the one we lost. i’m scared that if we make plans and start over—we might lose again." your word slip out before you can filter them.

“lose what? we don’t have to have another baby until we’re ready. until you’re ready—”

“it’s not that,” you bite your inner cheeks. “well, it’s a part of it… but what if i do it again? what if i lose myself and lose you? what if i fuck up too much the next time around and you don’t come back? everything we’ve built—us… i… fuck, what if you don’t fight for us because i burned everything down—”

“you won’t.”

“jungkook—”

he huffs. “___, you’re not wildfire, you’re hearth. you’re the reason this all feels like home. yeah, you’ve got heat, but it’s the kind that pulls people closer, not pushes them away. you don’t ruin, you ignite. you’re the reason we’re still burning bright. i burn for you."

you tighten your lips. “have you been watching bridgeton?”

“i’m trying here—”

you kiss him.

he chases your lips as you pull away.

“i trust you. it’s myself i’m still unsure about. it’s getting better but it just freaks me out when you plan ahead… i used to look forward to those moments, you know? now it feels complicated.”

jungkook nods, bringing his hands to your face. he fixes your hair and looks into your eyes. “honey, even if the flames get high, we’ll handle them together. and if it burns, then fine—then we can slow dance in the burning room. you don’t just burn, you keep me warm. you make everything brighter, stronger. don’t think for a second that i’d let you lose yourself to the fire. i need you. you’re my warmth. you’re the light of my life, ___."

you pout, completely in awe of his words.

jungkook then leans in and just when he’s about to kiss you, he murmurs; “so are you marrying me or what?”

his words catch her off guard. as you open your mouth to retort, the teasing glint in his eyes makes you pause. for a moment, you’re defensive, but then the corners of her mouth twitch upward against her will.

“don’t be a coward,” jungkook says. “you’re a million things to me. don’t be that.”

“coward?” you scoff, trying to keep your tone light, as you push away from him. “you think i’m a coward?”

“well, you’re avoiding the tough stuff,” jungkook replies, his playful tone breaking through the tension. “... and we both know you’re tougher than that.”

you can feel the weight of his words settling in, the understanding lingering between you two. the walls of anxiety you built up start to crumble, and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“maybe you’re right.”

he steps closer, nudging her playfully. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it? admitting that i’m right… wanting to marry me—”

“whatever you say, you cocky son of a bitch—”

jungkook chuckles, kissing you to shut up.

by the 4th day, jungkook begins to lose his mind.

the waiting has been unbearable. a slow kind of torture that gnaws at him from the inside out. every passing second feels like he's being pulled apart, suspended in limbo, unsure whether his future will unfold with you by his side or shatter into something unrecognizable. his thoughts go in circles—one moment, he’s convinced you’ll say yes, and the next, a creeping doubt settles in, making his chest feel tight.

he imagines every scenario, every possible response, and the worst part is that there’s no way to know.

he has packed all his belongings into boxes that line the walls of his studio apartment, the space feeling more hollow than it ever has. his game plan is simple: if you say yes, he’ll leave the boxes at your place, move back home, and everything will fall into place. if you say no… well, he’ll burn everything and cry the entire way to new york.

kidding.

(maybe)

realistically, jungkook will bring his things to his parents’ house, regroup, and try to act like he isn’t completely devastated. but even if you say no, there’s no universe where you and him don’t end up together eventually.

he’s sure of it.

there’s a certainty in his heart, a pull that refuses to let him believe otherwise. if it takes time, then so be it.

he’ll propose again and again when he gets back, until you see what he sees—that you’re meant for each other.

by the 6th day, yoongi comes in to bring his boxes.

jungkook spent the past 2 days at work, going over files and preparing documents for new york. it felt like going through the motions, like he was acting out a version of his life that wasn’t real yet. when he steps back into his studio, the air feels stagnant, the packed boxes looming like reminders of the uncertainty ahead.

he finds yoongi slumped over on the couch, lazily typing away on his laptop, his legs sprawled across the cushions as if he’s already made himself at home.

“have you been like that all day?” jungkook asks, toeing off his shoes by the door.

yoongi doesn’t look up. he lets out a wide yawn. “yeah,” he says, stretching. “your new york assistant better be patient as hell with you. you're a bitch sometimes... anyways, i actually moved a few boxes and put my clothes in the closet. oh, and i went out for some coffee.”

jungkook squints at him, making a face. “what? i literally have a nespresso machine.”

yoongi stands up from the couch, his hands sinking into the deep pockets of his sweatpants. he tilts his head slightly, a look of lazy amusement on his face.

“no, you don’t.”

jungkook frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he turns to the kitchen counter, where his nespresso machine has always been, only to find it missing. his heart skips a beat, and he takes a step forward, blinking as if maybe he just missed it somehow.

“what? where’d it go—”

“___ came by and took it,” yoongi says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

jungkook’s mind races, processing the information. “what? why would she take it?” his voice is laced with confusion, but there’s a flicker of something else—a hope he doesn’t dare entertain too much just yet.

yoongi rolls his eyes, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“congratulations on your marriage, jungkook,” he says, twisting the cap off. “now get out of my place. go home.”

jungkook blinks again, his heart pounding as the realization sinks in. you took the nespresso machine.

you took the fucking nespresso machine.

that’s your answer. his chest tightens, but this time it’s not from uncertainty. it’s from the flood of emotions crashing over him—the relief, the joy, the love.

his body moves on autopilot as he starts grabbing things, adrenaline coursing through him. yoongi watches from the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips as he lazily sips his water. “you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath.

jungkook doesn’t hear him.

his mind is already on you.

the wait is over, and he’s finally going home.

jungkook bursts through your door, calling your name, the sound of his voice filled with excitement and urgency.

“___? honey, where are you—”

time seems to stop as the world around you fades away.

as he catches sight of you on the living room floor, laughter bubbling between you and zion, the warm glow of the afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. the ring on your finger catches the light, sparkling as it draws his gaze.

his breath hitches, and his heart feels as if it’s been thrust into a whirlwind—stopping, skipping a beat, and then racing wildly, unable to contain the rush of emotions flooding through him.

it beats for you.

“hi, honey,” you wave him over, your smile radiant and genuine, illuminating the cozy space. “look! zion can count up to thirty now!”

jungkook rushes to your side, the weight of the day lifting with each step. he forgets that yoongi is still with him, his entire focus on you. kneeling beside you, he takes your hand in his, his fingers brushing over the ring—the very symbol of the love and commitment he has always wanted to share with you.

“you’re marrying me?” he asks, disbelief and joy intertwining in his voice. "it's a yes?"

you look at him lovingly, warmth radiating from your gaze—the kind of look that speaks volumes. it’s the same way you’ve always looked at him, but now, there’s an unmistakable depth to it. the courage, the trust, the love shines brighter than ever, enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy.

"i've loved you forever,” you reply, cupping his cheeks with your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “i have things to work on and so do you... but we're gonna do it together, right? cos this was difficult. this was way too difficult... and loving you has always been clear... so, yeah. i'm toughening it out. i'm trusting you and i'm not going to burn this to the ground. jungkook, you’re the only one i love in this world. you’re the only one who understands me. i fought so many wars in my mind to be with you—it has to be you.”

as jungkook’s lips curve into a radiant smile, a surge of emotion wells up within him. he leans in, capturing you in a kiss filled with promise and passion, pulling zion into a hug, enveloping you both in the warmth of his love. laughter bubbles up, mingling with happy tears as he holds you two close, the room echoing with the sweet sound of family and joy.

“oh my god,” he cries, the happiness spilling over. “i can’t believe this. okay, i’m going to get my stuff and—”

“yoongi?” you call, and he raises his hand, responding as if it were all part of a well-rehearsed script.

“wanna have a sleepover at uncle yoongi’s place? we should give mommy and daddy some privacy, huh?” he explains, scooping zion up into his arms and tickling him, making the little one giggle uncontrollably.

“can we eat ice cream before bed?” zion asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“duh!” yoongi replies with a grin.

“yoongi—”

“my son, my rules,” yoongi hushes you playfully. he puts zion down, urging him to say goodbye to you both, and they exchange sweet kisses before you point to the kitchen counter where zion’s overnight bag sits. yoongi picks it up and holds zion’s hand as they leave.

the moment settles around you and jungkook, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder and concern.

“you said yes,” he states, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“i did,” you confirm, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“what’s with this vibe, then?”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “jungkook... i still want you to go to new york.”

jungkook tilts his head, his expression shifting to confusion.

“are you guys coming with me?”

you shake your head gently. “no.”

“no?”

you reach for him. he lets you hold his hand. bringing it your lips, you kiss them. “jungkook, i don’t want it to be one or the other. let’s do both, okay? go to new york. let’s get married. both. we do both.”

“but 3 months?”

“we’ll come and visit!” you suggest, fully meaning to do so. truth be told, you already bought your tickets for the first visit. “i decided to take a leave from work for the rest of the year—why are you looking at me like that?"

"that's huge. are you sure that's what you want?"

you nod. "i want you."

"oh god..."

you laugh. "i want to get this right and i want to be okay. i want to figure it all out and i want to do it with you by my side. so, do this for us…. and 3 months isn’t forever. you’ll be back soon and we’ll be visiting every month. it’s too much of a hassle to move… but i truly want you to go and explore your options. i want you to go knowing that i don’t only love you for who you are and for what you’ll ever be—but i love you so much that i believe in you. in the dreams you have and the dreams i have for you. so, go. go, and when you come back, come back home to us—to me.”

the sincerity in your words wraps around him like a warm embrace, and jungkook feels the weight of your love and belief in him, making him all the more determined to chase after his dreams. he nods slowly, understanding the depth of what you’re offering.

in that moment, everything feels right.

"w-we can’t—" your voice breaks, barely a whisper, trembling with hesitation. your heart is pounding, the room feeling warmer by the second.

“why not?” jungkook’s eyes are wide, pleading, filled with a desire that mirrors your own but with an urgency that’s hard to ignore. his breath fans over your lips, just inches apart.

he’s been kissing you for almost 20 minutes, his lips soft but persistent, his tongue teasing yours in ways that make it impossible to think straight. his hands have long since slipped under your shirt, fingers trailing over your bare skin, sending sparks up your spine.

the heat between you two is overwhelming, consuming. his touch is soft but possessive, his fingertips grazing the edge of your bra as he pulls you closer, pressing you flush against him. you feel his heart racing beneath his chest, a rhythm that matches your own.

every inch of you craves him, craves more.

“i want you,” his voice is a low, husky whisper, filled with need. his hands move slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every reaction. “i want all of you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, your resolve weakening with every second. he looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever... and you have too.

the tension between you two has been building for so long, the unspoken feelings bubbling under the surface, waiting to explode.

his lips find your neck, pressing soft, heated kisses there, and you arch into him, your breath hitching. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your body betraying the protests on your lips. every touch, every kiss, makes it harder to think, harder to hold onto the reasons why you shouldn’t.

you can feel how much he wants you, the way his hands tighten their grip on your waist, the way he presses himself harder against you, his need undeniable. his lips move back to yours, capturing them in a deep, searing kiss that leaves you breathless. and in that moment, it’s like nothing else matters but him, but this.

you’ve never felt anything like this—so intense, so consuming.

“i’m on my period.”

jungkook bites his bottom lip.

“so?”

“i think i’m gonna be more sensitive and it's gonna be so messy—”

“are you okay with being more sensitive? we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to.” he insist, putting you first. your eyes flicker to his cock, poking through his jeans. "and mess is just mess. we can clean it up."

“i want to,” you say. “should we just put a towel underneath?”

he nods, getting up from your bed and out the hall to the linen closet. there, he picks the thicket towel and hurries back to your room. he bends over and places the towel on your spot. you get up to go to the bathroom and freshen up as he prepares.

when you get back, jungkook is already naked. he grabs you by the waist and pins you down on the bed.

“let me suck your dick first.”

jungkook gulps.

“actually, c-can i.. can i fuck your tits first?”

you laugh, puckering up for him. he leans over and kisses you. against the kiss, you answer him; “whatever you want, honey.”

with that, jungkook sets himself on top and places his cock in between your boobs. his cock is bigger than ever. you take it with two hands, pumping him slowly and adding some pressure to it. he throws his head back, hissing at the perfection of your touch.

“f-fuck…”

then, you let go and hold your boobs together. jungkook then begins to pump himself in between. the tip of his cock pokes out every so often, causing him to pant at the sight. you lower your chin, opening your mouth for his cock to enter it. jungkook takes the hint and shoves his dick inside.

you suck on it.

twirling your tongue around and playing with his tip—jungkook just might combust. you breathe through your nose as he begins to fuck your mouth. he can’t help it and you wouldn’t want it any other way. jungkook fucks your mouth in a desperate and almost brutal way. god, did he need this.

he loves this.

jungkook places his hands against the wall to help his stability. as he pulls himself out, you hold his cock with your two hands and continue to give him a handjob. he loses his breath for a second when he looks down and sees you drag your tongue around his hard cock.

he moans, eyes shut and the feeling of the pit of his stomach twisting.

“g-gonna cum—fuck, fuck, fuck!” jungkook chants.

you suck his dick more intensely. taking in every inch of him and tiring your inner cheeks out—he finally cums inside your mouth.

pulls out, you don’t let go. you continue to pump his length and kiss it.

jungkook feels like he’s going insane. he moves his body and matches to your eye level. he kisses you, tasting a bit of himself.

“thank you.”

“any time, daddy.”

“oh god—”

you laugh.

jungkook wipes the cum that spilled outside of your mouth with his thumb and shoves it in your mouth. you suck it clean.

“do you want me to eat you out?”

“that’s nasty!” you cry, hating the idea. “just put it in.”

jungkook smirks. “no prep?”

“aren’t i wet already?”

he ignores you and fixes your position. he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him. jungkook then places himself on top of you and his cock in between your legs. he parts your folds, looking down at your bloody entrance.

“ready?”

you nod, lacing your hands together around his neck. he lets out a breathy moan as he sinks himself inside you.

you wince.

“f-fuck, should i pull out?”

you shake your head. “n-no.”

“does it hurt?”

“yeah.”

he lowers his head, placing kisses on your neck and collarbone. “sorry, mama.”

“why are you so fucking big?” you hiss, feeling his thickness push inside you even more. your body jolts and he chuckles.

“that big?”

“mhmm,” you agree, closing your eyes to help regulate the burning feeling in between your legs. “j-just keep going. think it’s better when you—oh, f-fuck. yeah. like t-that, daddy. s-so nghhh, f-fuck. so good.”

“you like that, mama?” jungkook asks, pumping himself inside and out of you deeper and deeper. “fuck, you’re so tight. so fucking tight. can we do this again next month?”

"oh my god!"

you hit his shoulders and he laughs.

it’s not long before your arms wrap around him. you drag your nails against his skin, digging deep as he fucks you.

jungkook rests his forehead against yours. there, he watches as you make fuck me eyes at him, and as you wince and gasp between each thrust. your arms move up, holding onto his shoulders.

then, you feel it.

the tingle in between your legs and the tightness that follows. jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and you feel it like never before.

wrapped in his warmth, your heart swells with a love that feels like a tsunami—overwhelming and unstoppable. it’s a powerful wave that crashes over, rising higher with every shared look, every gentle touch. you can feel it building inside me, a rush of emotions that surges forth like water cascading from a great height, and you’re completely swept away.

you’re done for.

the intimacy of this moment is everything. his pants and murmurs of ‘i love you’s echo in your ears, and the way he looks at you with light in his eyes make your heart race like never before.

it makes you want to cry.

you’ve known and felt loved by jungkook before. for a long time now actually… but never like this. never has it ever felt this raw and real.

never has it ever felt this consuming.

it engulfs you, leaving me breathless yet exhilarated. in this moment, everything else fades away. there are no worries, no doubts—just you and jungkook suspended in time, hearts beating in sync. you can feel the tide of your feelings, crashing and receding, drawing me closer to him with each pulse.

as you gaze into his eyes, you realize that this love isn’t just a fleeting moment in time.

it’s endless.

uh oh.

i’m falling in love.

you want to surrender to it completely. to be swept away in the depths of our intimacy. with jungkook, there’s a promise of haven in chaos and as the waves of love continue to swell, you know that you’re more than ready to embrace every moment.

to let this tsunami carry you wherever it may lead.

“fuck, ___… a-are you crying? i’m sorry. i’ll—”

you hold onto him.

uh oh.

i’m falling in love again.

eyes burning with your tears, heart lighter than ever.

“i love you, jungkook.”

“i love you too, mama.”

jungkook kisses you, continuing to ask if you’re okay. you assure him you are and that period sex is a lot more emotional than you expected it to be. it’s not freaky—it’s just a fucking moment. he continues to fuck you, digging in deeper and deeper.

you think to yourself; no one will ever know me the way he does.

no one will ever love me and want me as wholeheartedly as he does… for that, you’re grateful and fall in love with the closeness everything has brought you two.

you lose yourself to him.

he carries you through 3 more orgasms before helping you up from bed, starting you and bath, and cleaning you. together, you two sit in the bathtub and hold each other. you two talk about the plans that you have and what to expect during the next 3 months.

as you lay next to jungkook, his soft breathing fills the quiet room. his body sinks deeper into sleep. you feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours, his arm draped loosely over your waist, pulling you closer. the warmth of his skin against yours, the weight of him in the stillness—it all feels like home.

the world outside could be moving a million miles an hour, but here, with him, time seems to slow down, just for the two of you.

yet, something stirs within you, a reminder of a truth you’ve held onto for years—time doesn’t stop for broken hearts. it never has, it never will. yet, it always seems to move a little slower when love slips through your fingertips—when it’s about him.

something you’ve always known about loving jungkook is that he fears the end. he’s never been good with losing people or things, never able to fully let go. he loves and lives like he’s running out of time, even though he isn’t. but that’s what makes him so different, so captivating—he loves in full force. he loves with his entire heart... and he loves with all his time.

as his breaths even out, you stay awake, thoughts swirling around you. you realize how long it took to get here, how many battles you fought—most of them with yourself.

pride had been a constant companion, keeping you at arm's length from the very love you craved. there were moments where you couldn’t imagine letting yourself be this vulnerable, this open. loving him meant risking the one thing you protected the most—your heart.

but somewhere along the way, you let that pride slip away, piece by piece. maybe it was the way he looked at you, the way he never let go, no matter how many times you tried to push him away. maybe it was realizing that you didn’t have to be so strong all the time, that with him, you didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone. the moment you put pride aside, everything shifted—time, love, and life all started falling into place.

you’ve both waited for this.

for the space to just be with each other without the weight of past mistakes or the fear of losing what you’d built. now, time feels like it’s on your side. for so long, it seemed like you were always too late or too soon, like everything was just out of reach. but here, in this moment, with his warmth wrapping around you, you know you’ve finally caught up to where you were meant to be.

he stirs a little, tightening his arm around you as he shifts closer. a soft smile tugs at your lips, the kind of smile that only comes when you realize that all the walls you’d built were finally down. you’ve let go of the need to protect yourself from him, because you know now that loving him is worth more than holding onto pride.

the first light of morning spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. jungkook wakes slowly, his sleepy eyes finding yours, a lazy grin spreading across his face. in that moment, without either of you needing to say a word, you both know—time isn’t something to fear anymore.

it’s finally yours.

“coffee?” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

"coffee."

you move together, the rhythm of your morning routine as easy and familiar as breathing. side by side, you make coffee, the smell of it filling the kitchen, your hands brushing as you pass him his cup.

and as you stand there, cups in hand, you feel a quiet sense of peace. the pride that once kept you from this moment is gone, and in its place is something stronger—trust, love, and the certainty that no matter what time brings, you’ll face it together.

whether it's the beginning or the end;

you and jungkook are timeless.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jk smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #dilf jk smut #dilf jk scenario #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario

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inuyashaluver · 3 months ago

Note

Firstly wanted to say thank you for your fics, they NEVER disappoint 🫶

And I wanted to request something with Grace Clinton, maybe a soft/hard launch with a non-footballer gf?

girlfriend - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is tired of keeping the love of her life a secret, thus, you get a special invitation to her debut with her national team

warnings: nothing really!! not proofread because its me

a/n: STOPPP, thank you so much for the love and support you are so incredibly sweet, please enjoyyyyy, i'm rusty like don't mind me AHHAHAH, clearing out my drafts and requests as we speak!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, grace, long story short are soulmates. you have known grace pretty much your entire life and have never felt such a huge amount of love for anyone as much as you did with her.

grace has always been in love with you, she doesn’t remember a time where she hasn’t been. and that just sums up your entire relationship, completely and utterly in love.

—

you and grace have known each other ever since you were 7. you were both placed in the same class at school, grace known for her class clown personality while you just smiled at her antics while working on your studies.

you two gravitated towards each other quicker than ever expected, being the best of friends until you were both 17 and grace finally asked you to be her girlfriend. an absolute surprise to not only the both of you, but everyone else around you.

while grace was playing football, you were her biggest cheerleader on the side, her ‘lucky charm’ as she loved to call you. you did absolutely everything together, the best partner for life.

in your adult lives, you moved in together, grace playing football while you were in veterinarian school. it worked so well, it was so effortless, so easy and it was absolutely the best.

—

you had the privilege of being able to travel around the uk as grace joined different clubs, and grace was so incredibly grateful for you.

something to know about your girlfriend, she was incredibly private. grace hated the thought of you being a secret but she was so protective.

she often had nightmares of you being found by crazy friends and getting harassed, and that was why she kept you private. her work and social life completely separate.

you didn’t mind it, you and grace were secure amongst yoursleves and within your relationship to not find it offensive. you both loved each other and that was all that really mattered.

all her teammates, your friends and family knew about your relationship and knew how much you meant to each other, and that was enough for both of you.

there were subtle hints here and there, people knew grace had a partner, she just didn’t want to give anyone details. both of your instagrams had soft hints towards your relationship, but nothing too obvious or completely out there.

you would come to every match without fail, always waiting for her at the end of the match.

—

she spots you sitting in the stands, clad in her jersey with a proud smile on your face as you watched her sign things and take photos with fans. she felt herself grow shy at the pure look of admiration on your face.

when people began to leave, she smiles over at you, you smile at the girl, nodding your head flirtily as she gave you a cheeky wave with a wink.

she gestures to the tunnel, meaning to follow her to the back later on. you nod, laughing at her cheeky antics, you pucker your lips up jokingly and she rolls her finger in a circle to hint for you to hurry up so she could say hello.

you wait for her in the carpark, perched up against your shared car, she rushes out excitedly, clearly out of breath but she smiles so brightly when she sees you, her most favourite person in the entire world.

you open your arms out to her expectantly and she walks into them with a relieved breath, hugging you around the middle tightly.

“hi, baby” she whispered in your ear, her lips giving you a subtle kiss on the shell of your ear. “hi, gracie girl”, you chuckle, rubbing your hands up and down her back before you pulled apart, puckering your lips up at her teasingly. she smirks, her hand cupping the underside of your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss.

“i missed you” she breathes out against your lips, you smile, pecking them, “i missed you too, baby, two hours is way too long” you chuckle mockingly, kissing her a little longer this time.

she smiles in the kiss, drawing you in closer with her hands on your waist, “two hours felt like two days” she mocks, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as she walked you to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for you and closing it once you were seated.

“you played so well today, gracie baby” you smile at her when she puts her seatbelt on, she grins so sheepishly, cheeks pink no matter the time or place when it came to you.

“cause you were there” she shakes her head in your face, kissing your lips tenderly before she grabbed your hand to hold as she drove.

—

when grace got transferred to tottenham, things fast tracked.

“baby, it’s only fair” grace groans, flopped on top of you as you were under the covers in the early hours of the morning. “gracie, i love you, but please, no” you beg, speaking up from under the blanket.

she sighs, smushing her face into your stomach over the blanket, “babe!” she yells, muffled by the blankets, you rip the blankets off your face, giving her your best scowl when she looked up at you from the movement.

“please, no, it’s too early” you exclaim, grace smiles at you, clearly amused by your attempt at anger on your features. “you got to pick dinner, and the movie last night” grace reminds, “i knew you let me pick because you wanted something,” you tutt, shaking your head.

she gasps, her hand clutching her chest, “i would do no such thing!” she moves up to straddle your waist as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

“my ass” you whisper, letting your girlfriend press a sweet kiss to your lips, “please” she pouts. her hands moving the blanket off you to hold your waist, kissing you again. you hum against her, clearly her little plan had worked.

“please come to training” she whispers, her words fluttering over your lips. you roll your eyes fondly, nodding and letting your girlfriend kiss your cheeks repeatedly, pulling you up from the bed excitedly.

the girl had already picked out your clothes, that’s how confident she was that she could get you to come to training with her. her separation anxiety was real.

you laugh when you see the ‘clinton’ hoodie on the top of the pile of clothes, shaking your head but putting it on anyway.

and when you both arrived at training, and you were seen in the training video wearing that hoodie, the questions and speculation were growing tenfold. who was this girl grace brought to training?

you and grace had been chatting after all the bombarding questions reached both of your phones. and you both decided, maybe it was time to put your relationship out in the open. although you both had your worries, you just didn’t want to hide anymore.

and so after careful deliberation, you and grace would make your relationship official in her debut match for the senior lioness team.

—

grace was so jittery in her hotel room this morning, aggie had to message you that your girlfriend was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. you call her and she picks up a couple seconds after you press the call button.

“baby” she breathes out, clutching onto the phone as she talked to you, “hi, babe, you okay?” you ask her, phone on speaker as you get ready for the game. “i’m okay, just nervous” you hum at her words, “and that’s okay, baby” you remind her and she instantly calms down.

“yeah, i know” she sighs, “i miss you, i can’t wait to see you tonight” she grins, fiddling with the ends of her shorts. you giggle into the phone, “i miss you too baby, i’m very excited to see you” you both chatter back and forth before you hung up.

“i better see clinton on your back, babe, i love you!” she calls out into the phone before she hangs up, getting rushed onto the bus. you laugh, already wearing the england jersey with your girl’s name on the back. like you were a rooke, tsk.

—

you sat with her family in the stands, understanding why grace was so jittery. you watch her train and she looks pale, there’s so much riding on this. she wants to do well, she needs to do well. she needs to impress you.

she waves at you shyly when she spots you, you smile at her brightly, holding your hands up in a heart shape to make her giggle, and it thankfully works. she mimics your gesture, making you giggle as well. you both calmed down after that.

—

the match concludes and she does extremely well, the look of pride on both of your faces was infectious. you cheer loudly when they do a lap of appreciation. and like usual, when she completes her signatures and pictures and walks over to the friends and family section.

she smiles up at you from the bottom of the pitch, ushering with her hand to come down to where she was.

you smile at her shyly, walking around others to reach her, and when you do, you don't think you’ve ever seen her smile so brightly. “hello, beautiful” she pulls you in by your waste to hug you tenderly, kissing your cheek before she rests her head on your shoulder to feel closer to you.

“hi, superstar” you hug her tightly, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care. she pulls back to look at you, to really look at you. she may have just debut and reached one of biggest goals of her life, but you’re really the best achievement in her life.

“you’re sure about this?” grace questions, eyes flickering between your own in concern, you smile softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead and tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

“i’m sure, lovey” she smiles at your words, breathing out happily as she took in your appearance before she placed her hand onto your jaw.

she pulls you into a soft kiss, tame for the public but so incredibly meaningful. you hear the distant cheering of everyone, but it's drowned out with feeling grace’s lips move with yours. it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls away, resting her forehead on yours.

both of you smile, holding each other tightly, slightly in shock that you were both now official to the public. “finally” she teases, pinching your hip, you laugh, hitting her arm softly before leaning in to peck her lips.

you both see people holding up phones, chattering and talking about the two of you but you both really didn’t care. you had each other and that is all that matters.

though, what you both didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of support you both gained out of this. the worry was honestly for nothing.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you!! ily celin

liked by alessia and 44,232 others

graceclinton_x: she's a big softy

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yourname: says you!!

↳ graceclinton_x: yeah, yeah!

alessia: can confirm grace is more soft

↳ ellatoone: confirmed!

↳ aggiebjones: confirmed!

↳ mayaletissier: confirmed!

↳ graceclinton_x: thanks guys.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #grace clinton x reader

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lawchwan · 1 month ago

Text

the man of my romance book (ace)

summary: just ace giving you the most mind-blowing sex requested: @weasleyjumpeer reader: fem!reader disclaimer: piv, references of stalking, reader wears glasses and reads books, squirting, very rushed, reader is slightly shorter than ace, confusing timeline wtf, references of cunnilingus, Ace is referenced to have a big dick (but nothing's explicit about it because it's about technique, not size), unprotected sex-reader might get pregnant uh oh!, manhandling, dirty talking, references of filming/recording, did i mention that it's lowkey rushed... i'm sorry genre: smut a/n: hi, hello... its been a minute... so i had multiple factors on why i disappeared, one being that i am a busy woman with a job, went through the loss of a dear family member and other factors I don't want to get into. furthermore, i had a draft ready for this, and i accidentally deleted it, which led to me losing my shit and motivation. but here i am rn, and i hope i don't disappoint thanks to my hiatus. I do sincerely apologize, however, to keep you waiting for three—almost four months. i hope you enjoy this piece :)

crossposted on ao3

The night bloomed with the moon's gleaming essence shining through the room as it highlighted the discarded clothes thrown due to the immense desperation and lust shared by the two individuals who had known each other not too long, yet not too short.

Ace has had his eyes on you for so long, his friends and crew were just mere muffled background sounds, as you were sat across his with a book laid in front of you on the other side of the cafe. His gaze juxtaposes admiration and lust, with your figure, your hair, your perfect skin, and your facial expressions when the little words on the stack of papers cause you to react subtly, he has been examining you.

Unbeknownst to him, you did catch up to his examination and tried your best to keep your attention away from him. But how could you? You would be lying if you said he wasn't candy to your eyes. Shirtless with tattoos painted all over his body, cowboy hat that concealed the greasy top of his long curly hair, manspreading with his arms splayed across the booth seat behind him and his crew, freckles that can be seen from afar that speckled across his face; he was the embodiment of the protagonist you would read in your dark romance.

His crew set sail on your island for a while and you would see him frequently, wherever you went, it was guaranteed that he'd be there, almost as if he was intentionally stalking you and knew where you were going.

Still, though, you kept your eyes on your book, not giving him the satisfaction of providing him the attention he sought and instead hoping he could grow the courage to come over and ask for a date, or a good fuck.

Ace suddenly stood up, eyes still glued to you, causing his crew to look up at him curiously, as he moved out of his seat and walked over to you, almost like you've entranced him to come over without looking at him.

You sensed a tall presence looming in front of you, resulting you in getting out of the reading world and going back to reality to meet with the fine man standing in front of him. You two held eye contact, almost like you’ve unintentionally entered a staring contest, waiting for one of you to speak. Ace gaped his mouth, wanting to say something but his voice failed him as it cracked, making him clear his throat and scratch his neck, his flustered pink tones radiated up to the surface of his tan skin. You began laughing as you covered your mouth, making Ace’s skin crawl in embarrassment.

“God dammit, I fucked up,” Ace thought to himself, nerves getting the best of him. He should have walked away and faced the music of mockery from his crew, but what he didn’t expect was you extending your hand, signaling him to sit while you pushed the seat away with your foot.

Ace looked down at the chair and then back at you, bemused like a dog getting a new command from its owner, before sitting down while you simply closed the book and put it in your bookbag. You smiled at him as Ace nervously tried to recollect himself.

“Sorry, I am not usually one to stumble on my words… or go through a second puberty,” He muttered the last sentence, in an attempt to make it incoherent for you, yet you heard him loud and clear, making you chuckle in response.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, besides, I think that voice crack was adorable,” You teased, making Ace scoff back at you. You got closer, placing your arms on the table, extending your arm for a handshake, making Ace look down at the hand then back up at your beautiful yet alluring smile.

“I’m (Y/N)”

The curly-haired pirate reached out and shook your hand back, mirroring your grin.

“I’m Ace, but I guess you know that already, since y’know…” He shifted his eyes and cocked his head, which you nodded back as you scrunched your face with a smile as you found him endearing right then and there, pirate or no pirate, he was adorable.

—

Adorable.

Time passed and you once thought he was adorable, and he was, but you assumed he was a nervous wreck with a deceiving look. You certainly didn’t mind breaking his shell, but he certainly exceeded your expectations when he slowly leaned in to kiss you when he wanted to drop you off from your guys’ date. You were astonished by how good his lips were on yours, for a nervous fellow, he sure kisses like he isn’t. When he pulled away, your lips were chasing after his, causing him to smirk as he held your chin firmly, almost like he caught you underestimating him.

“I can do more if you want to, but I’ll save it for another time…” He husked his voice, as he teasingly leaned in, running his thumb across your bottom lips before he leaned back and walked away backward.

“Good night, babe,” His departure almost felt like a mixture of goading yet exhilarating anticipation of what’s to come the next time you see him.

He might be the death of you.

—

Some more time has passed and the term “adorable” is not a word you would give at the moment when he has you wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to your bedroom with his lips attached to yours with sheer fervor. As soon as you mentioned that you lived alone, Ace jumped at the opportunity to get closer to you however he wanted. It was a risky move from your end, letting know a man you knew.

He has you where he wanted you to be as you are to his. You gripped the back of his neck and tugged on the hairs revealed from his cowboy hat. With the feverish atmosphere, his hat was tipped back to his back as he pushed you onto a wall and began his attack on your neck. You gasped a beautiful sound that Ace intentionally tried to extract as he nipped on the sweet spot by your neck, making you throw your head back as you began to let out breathy moans.

Ace pulled back and looked down at you, his freckled face was flushed with desire while his eyes had lust and plead shown between his bangs as he pants.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Ace whispered, lips still close to yours and his thirst was quenching the more he looked at you in your most lustful state. You told him where it was through your huffed tone and he didn’t hesitate to carry you into the bedroom before he threw you into the bed with such strength.

He carried you and threw you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing—it seemed as though his muscular physique was not for show after all. You were astonished by his roughhousing, yet he left you no room to react as he pinned you down onto the bed, his large hands encapsulating your wrists with his lips remaining attached to your lips. Your breaths were shaken with anticipation as his lips began their exploration across your soft skin. He tongued from your jaw down to your collarbone, while his calloused fingers reached for the hem of your shirt and began lifting it to expose any skin. With your shirt out of the way, his lips began attacking your body again, this time he began grazing his teeth around the soft skin of your breasts, just above your bra line. You arched your back to allow room for him to reach around and remove your bralette, only for him to pull away, hold onto the fabric, and begin ripping it from the center, leaving the piece ripped in half. You gasped at the sudden motion while he just groaned at the sight of you sprawled half-naked with eyes wide and blown with desire.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” He growled, before reaching down again and began open mouth kissing your supple breasts, making you whine at the exhilarating sensation of his warm mouth around your nipple.

“Ace…~” You breathed with hooded eyes as Ace roamed lower with his hands following along, goosebumps arising from your skin. Ace didn’t respond immediately instead he just smirked looking up at you teasingly as he nipped at your mound.

“Hold on, baby… we’ll be here all night, I just want to give this sweet…” Ace paused looking down at your breasts again and began kissing the side of it and massaging it before leaning onto the other breasts to give it the same attention, “Breasts of yours some love… you’ll let me right?”

—

And some love your breast was given by him, and he meant it.

And many more, as time passed and Ace showed no sign of stopping. His gapped and moaning mouth was covered with nothing but your sweet nectar while his rough hands were gripping your hips as he was thrusting into you at such a pace no man could maintain. His hair fell forward while his necklace swayed along with the beat of his thrusts. Your legs spread as you began screaming out his name while the tip hit a pleasurable spot you never thought existed, a promise that Ace had mentioned while he was getting ready to eat you out.

“I’ll make sure your neighbors know of me as the guy who fucks you good instead of a criminal, no good pirate,” he chuckles darkly as he placed himself between your legs, face inches away from your glistening pussy, “I know you like that shit, I know girls like you would love to be fucked by pirates who do nothing but wreak havoc, am I right, pretty girl? Tell me I’m right because I know I am…”

And Ace maintained that promise as you attempted to cover your face with a pillow due to the volume you were producing thanks to Ace’s rough yet pleasurable thrusts, only for him to chuck the pillow across the room with such aggression and grounds your wrist onto the mattress, leaving you no room to wiggle yourself away.

“No, no, baby, I need to hear you, I need to hear you become a mess for me.” Ace gritted his teeth as he groaned out strings of curse words while you were calling out his name like a prayer.

“Oo~ Ace~ Fuck yes!” You whimpered as the heated sensation was enflaming your insides—a funny correlation with having fire fist Ace ramming his hard cock into your pussy. A pussy that craved nothing but a specific type of pleasure that only a man like Ace can achieve, a one-of-a-kind man, and Ace knew of that and he relishes the fact that your body craves him and him only.

Even though you two don’t know each other for long, you gave him a sense of confidence no girl ever gave him. He knows he’s a good lover, but you made him a lover that a pornstar would envy to have. Especially with how you were writhing underneath him, whimpering out begs and his name.

Ace…

Oo fuck me, Ace~

Sounds like he would love to have recorded, it’s a shame he left his den den mushi somewhere in the apartment and a camera back on the ship, he would have used it to his advantage.

The sounds of squelching skin-to-skin sounds, dubbed with your combined moans of pleasure were music to Ace’s ears, especially with how you were approaching your orgasm.

“I’m—fuck—I’m coming!” You whined out as your moans started to border onto panting, making Ace hit a deeper spot as he tried to keep with your pace. He nodded with a smirk as he panted out, “Same here, baby… come on, come for me and I’ll come for you…”

And with those words, you arched your back as Ace sent you to a space where you could only see white with how you rolled your eyes, thanks to the overwhelming pleasure he had put you through. Ace nearly fell on top of you as he landed on your shoulder, biting onto it as he came inside of you. After the two of you began catching your breaths, Ace pulled away to look at you before he placed his forehead and gave you strings of passionate kisses.

He pulled away, not after you bit his bottom lip to bring him back close to you, making him chuckle. You smiled up at him shyly as he just looked at you with such glamor and adoration.

“Wow… no one has ever fucked me like this…” You whispered, making Ace snort out a laugh as he shook his head, “You thought it was over?” Ace responded with a menacing smile on his face.

You widened your eyes, he fucked you this good, and there’s still more?

Your shock state unsettled Ace, his smirk dropped due to the lack of response, “unless you want us to stop—”

“No!” You exclaimed, making Ace flinch and you tight-lipped your mouth shut after you made a fool of yourself. Thankfully, Ace only chuckled and kissed your lips, the intention undetected yet the ardent intensity was present.

“You’re so cute,” Ace comments after pulling away from the kiss. He pulls himself up, only to look down at the scenery below him with a gasped delight. Your eyes followed his, and there you saw was a puddle of your essence staining your bedsheet, mixing with Ace’s pearly cum that fell out your pollen.

You gasped as you felt a rush of embarrassment coursing through you, yet you oddly had no sense of shame in your system. You looked up at Ace, shyly, hoping he doesn’t give you a reason to feel otherwise. Thankfully he leaned in again with another feverish kiss, before pulling back with a smirk, lips barely touching.

“Want us to create more of a mess in the shower? The floor? Or more on the bed? Anything you want, baby, because I’m not done…”

And you hoped it wouldn’t end anytime soon…

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

#one piece headcanons #one piece smut #one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace smut #ace fic #one piece ace #ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x y/n

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fluffylino · 1 year ago

Text

soft!hyunjin

you never liked arguments

-very fluffy, pure fluffiness

water ran down your body. you didn't like this feeling that you felt. nothing made sense anymore. your mind was a mess.

arguments.

you despised it so much because of how your parents were.

unecessary. things could be cleared quietly without shouting and getting angry with eachother. it reminded you of your father. his harsh words. the shouting. the swearing. the silent treatment.

although what hyunjin did was minor. he would never curse at you or call you names regardless of whether he was annoyed.

what happened today was a mistake. it had escalated to the point that hyunjin was ignoring you. at this point you couldn't even blame him. maybe you were being emotional. but it did bring back bad memories of arguments.

you hadn't even realised your breath had got stuck in your throat. tears blurred your vision. your head felt light as the water became hotter. steam filling up the bathroom.

"baby!" hyunjin yelled, kicking the door open. you hadn't even heard him. his hand tugged you out, before you could even comprehend anything.

"thank god you left the door unlocked. i was searching for you"

he pulled you flush against him. you couldn't hold your tears in anymore.

"I don't like this, i hate it" you sobbed out, shaking against hyunjin's body that was embracing you.

"i'm sorry, my angel...i'm so sorry my sweetheart" you could feel the pain in his voice. you couldn't help it. everything was triggering and you were unable to control your emotions.

"i don't want to fight. i can't...it hurts"

without caring, he pulled you out not bothering if you were naked. he sat you down on the counter near the sink. your legs dangled down, and he wasted no time to hug you. not bothering that his clothes were getting wet.

"its okay you're okay we're okay" hyunjin reassured, his arms wrapped around you. his fingers stroking your back.

"breathe baby..i'm here" he whispered, pulling his head back to wipe your tears.

"we're never arguing again" you shivered, suddenly hit with a cold draft. you wrapped your legs around his hips.

"im cold hyunnie" you muttered, voice cracking while pushing yourself against his body. he was warm and his soft shirt felt nice against your bare skin.

"lets shower together, hm" he suggested, hands steadily holding you. he rubbed your bare back soothingly. you couldn't bring myself to nod, instead opting to try and look at him.

his eyes were teary and his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"my pretty baby, don't cry please. i'm sorry" he kissed your forehead.

"i'm so stupid. please forgive me." hyunjin softly pecked your nose.

a small gesture that made your heart hurt with how genuinely heart felt he was being. carefully he carried you, making you stand under the shower. it was perfect. you watched as he took his soaking wet shirt off and tugged his pants and everything else off. hurriedly stepping into the shower. to be as close to you as possible. his body pressed against yours in the misr intimate lovely way possible.

"my gorgeous darling" you cried harder when he cupped your face to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

"i'm sorry...i'm sorry for not talking to you. it was childish and dramatic of me to do that"

"i'm s-sorry too" you mumbled. maybe you were being a teeny weeny bit emotional.

"i'm the one whose sorry baby...you did nothing wrong"

another kiss to your face. the water was hot against your skin but his body provided you with a warmth that reached your heart.

"I love you so much, my love...please never forget that"

#pls i need a hyunjin #you can't tell me otherwise #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz drabbles #soft hyunjin #soft stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #skz smut #hwang hyunjin smut #fluffylino works

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wonton4rang · 5 months ago

Note

can you do riize bf hcs? 💗💗

hiii, ofc!!! my first riize request/ drabble/ thought, oh my :')

btw, guys, i wanted to make something clear with my riize content, for me riize is 7. i understand that some might be mad at seunghan for having a normal life and dating before he was even an idol, or smoking like he's harming your lungs or something, but i don't really mind. he worked hard to get here and even though he might have come across as someone problematic, i believe we should never mix the idol's personal life with their job (in this case, as it's not something that bad, it's not seungri y'all iykyk). they are people, you talk shit behind someone's back too and you don't get fired for it so please understand this and respect my point of view <3 if you feel uncomfortable with that, feel free to stop reading my riize content and live your life.

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

Can I be your boyfriend?

pairing: riize x reader.

warnings: +18, mentions of smut.

summary: how i think riize would be as boyfriends (two povs - daily life + intimacy)

note: i had like over 3-4 weeks with this in drafts because i couldn't finish the maknae line (han, hee & ton) but here it is, hope y'all enjoy !! my first riize post <33 pd. i did NOT read this again so it might contain typos, i will try to correct it asap :')

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

shotaro;

daily life: he would be a really funny and nice boyfriend to be around. being so kind and his eye smile being so dreamy that you could literally feel your knees getting weak and that fervent desire of pinching his cheeks. he would definitely selfie text you every time he can, "how you doing, baby?" *insert selca*, "did you eat something already?" *insert mirror selfie*. plus, i also think that he would be the type to like to have you on his lap. idk, it just feels right and natural to me.

intimacy: i have been seeing taro since nct and tbh the amount of sex this dude likes to have is insane. like i just see him fucking you three times a day like a fucking meal. he would be fast yet precise, nothing sloppy or out of place, he would whisper in your ear how much he likes you and would give you a reassuring smile when you were about to come that just melted your heart over and over again.

eunseok;

daily life: contrary to his usual behaviour and demeanour, i do think he would be very touchy. probably not really bubbly or acting all cutesy but he is for sure having an arm around you at all times, acting like it's the most natural and normal thing and like he isn't thinking about the way you breath under his touch with every second that goes by. he would also be the type to stare at you all lovingly when you are saying something and then nod with that "i love you so much i'm going crazy" smile on his pretty lips.

intimacy: i have two things for this one, or he is very dominant or he is a lay back type of person. let me elaborate, in both of them he is dominant but the first one is him actually taking control of your movements, physically manipulating you during sex to get you where he wants, when he wants it. on the second one, is more like he layed back and told you to ride him or something but his face has that smug look that you loved-hated because it meant that he was not touching you and you had to do all the work today. but honestly, i feel like he could also have his lovey dovey days and just make love to you!! also, the way this man loves to receive head has to be studied. it came to me in a vision and i actually can give testimony of it :p

sungchan:

daily life: do you guys know this stereotype of the typical sporty, extroverted, funny, tall, handsome and very loving and centered boyfriend? well, meet sungchan. he would video call you at any time, during his morning lecture at college, during his workout session at the gym, while he was waiting for the showers to empty on the changin room. always, everywhere. he would drop by your house almost every night to check up on you since your job and his daily schedule at college wouldn't allow you guys to meet. he would be the type to be so offended if you ever think he would cheat because he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you !!

intimacy: mr. i'll make love to you on weekdays and get freaky on the weekends fr. he would usually fuck you missionary, looking into your eyes and kissing your lips like a starved man while his dick reached so deep inside of you that your legs would shake. but when the time came, he would also get creative, bending you over the dining table and fucking you raw before pulling out and coming in your ass, ruining your pajamas but making your night the best :((

wonbin:

daily life: princess treatment type of boyfriend. but not just towards you, he is expecting the princess treatment right back. he would dress up so nicely to go and see you, expecting to find you on your best fit too! he would like to help you choose your clothes and even go shopping, getting you both matching jackets and jewelry. idk why but i also see him as the type to like to cuddle at home with you while watching a movie over going outdoors.

intimacy: he has the strength and the body the fuck you senseless but hear me out when i say this man is more of a sub that you could ever imagine. he would try to play it nice and not be so obvious about the fact that he is creaming his pants when you start to move while sitting on his lap, he would hold his soft whines in by biting his bottom lip and then lowering his head to hide the blush across his cheeks. and it doesn't take you a minute to notice and drop to your knees so you can suck him off, feeling his delicated hands tangle in your hair and press you down so he can slowly fuck your throat. just have in mind that your pussy it's next and wonbin has one of the best staminas i've seen in a dancer.

seunghan:

daily life: i personally see seunghan as an energetic person, always trying to be cheerful and thinking of a joke that matches the current vibe, or just laugh along, but i also feel like he'd be a very romantic boy. really into this gentleman persona that would have you weak on your knees and giggling all day, he would take to you to sweet dates, matching couple sweaters and bracelets, long walks at night while you just hold hands and then end up kissing in the entrance of your apartment before trying to say goodbye because he would push you inside and cuddle you all night whenever he has the chance </3

intimacy: yeah i guess we all know where i'm going with this but lord have mercy on you when he decides to show up and say it's time to get naughty. he would start with soft touches, kisses that would slowly get longer and deeper, and a long forgotten movie on your living room while he undressed you on your room. he would be rougher than sungchan but relatively slower, fucking you nice and deep rather than fast and sharp.

sohee:

daily life: pookie. the pookiest pookie of all. but heads up, he might be really cute, his smile might look so innocent that would make you second guess when you said something with a slight double sense and he just look at you like 🫣 he would try to make you food, try to help you around in the house, try to even help you with your homework but would only end up sitting by your side, caressing your frame, your arms and hair, while he made you one or two jokes and sang some lovey dovey tune to your ear.

intimacy: contrary to popular thought, i don't think he is THAT much of a sub. he mainly is, yes, but i also feel like he would be a great dom. like, picture sohee, nicely built body, sharp eyes, playful smirk, freaky hands and sweet yet masculine voice tone whispering in your ear how good your pussy tightens around of his dick, his hands holding your waist and your fingers tangled in his hair... yeah, we need more dom sohee content :')

anton:

daily life: i've always thought that he would be the messiest boyfie ever. he would try to impress you by doing or saying stuff you really didn't care about but you found it so adorable and endearing that you eventually had interest for all the stuff he showed you, because he wanted you to know you had a great and knowledgeable boyfie!! but on the other side, he would just be himself, turning into this boyfriend-best friend kinda thing that you both loved.

intimacy: idk why i feel like he would be a little shy. maybe not shy shy but like he would hesitate at first, not knowing if you'd like this or that and doing none because he didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. however, when he finally gets a hold of you??? gurllll you better be ready. i feel like he's the type to slowly fuck you so good you would end up edging most of the times because he would just be so patient, so precise and yet lacking velocity, but it was on purpose because he would bring your orgasm in a silver plate when he thrusts so fast into you you actually think the bed would crack.

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rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Note

honestly so inlove with what’s good John b because you wrote it very similarly to what happened in the show (of course with your twists) and I was wondering if you could do one about reader being rafes girlfriend and being there when he shot peterkin and reader being just so shocked and couldn’t believe what he just did

Me and the Devil || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

GIF by @tetragonia

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for toooo long

Warnings: this is a canon fic that is based from s1 ep 9 so if you were uncomfortable watching it, especially towards the end when Rafe k!lls peterkins, please do not read this as I go into detail.

Word count: 1,693

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

"Rafe, what are we doing out here?" you ask, your voice tinged with concern as you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car. The sun blazes overhead, casting sharp shadows on the dusty, secluded airstrip, save for the one airplane on the other side.

"I'm just checking something," Rafe replies, attempting to sound casual as he opens the car door. You hesitate for a moment before following him.

"Oh my god, Rafe!" you whisper-yell, your eyes widening as you spot Peterkins aiming her gun at Ward, with Sarah and John B standing behind him. Rafe halts, and both of you watch the tense scene unfold, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "What is going on—" Your question is cut short by the chilling, unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.

You turn, heart hammering in your chest, to see Rafe gripping a gun tightly in his hand. Panic and confusion flood your mind. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with fear and disbelief. He looks back at you, eyes wild and desperate, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Hey, hey, I'm doing this for us, okay? Just—just stay in the car," he pleads, though his voice is shaky and uncertain. Your breathing quickens, and you can feel the terror rising within you.

"No—no, I'm coming with you," you insist, shaking your head as you step beside him. You clutch at Rafe's shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you look at him with wide, fearful eyes. "Please don't do anything stupid," you beg, your voice breaking with emotion. His silence is deafening, amplifying your dread and uncertainty.

Rafe moves stealthily along the side of the airplane, keeping out of sight, and you follow closely, every nerve in your body on edge. The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly, adding to the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, Peterkins' voice rings out, clear and authoritative, "You're under arrest for the murder of Big John Routledge." A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Rafe is quick to react. His hand clamps over your mouth, silencing you as he pulls you against his chest.

Your heart races, pounding so loudly as you the situation you are in sinks in. Pressed against Rafe, you can feel his own heart beating rapidly. The realization that he's willing to go to such lengths terrifies you. He removes his hand slowly, but keeps you close, his eyes scanning the scene ahead.

"Stay quiet," he whispers, his voice barely audible. The sound of footsteps and hushed voices reaches your ears, and you can make out the strained expressions on the faces of Ward, Sarah, and John B. Your hand tightens its grip on Rafe's shirt, your body trembling.

The conversation around you fades into an indistinct murmur as your mind races, grappling with the gravity of the situation you and Rafe find yourselves in. Rafe’s muttered curses, “Shit, shit, shit,” barely register in your ears, overshadowed by the pounding of your own heartbeat. You watch in a daze as Ward crumples to his knees. His shoulders sagas he places his hands behind his head in a gesture of surrender.

Peterkins strides forward with a stern expression, her movements deliberate and unyielding. The metallic click of the handcuffs as they close around Ward’s wrists seems unnaturally loud in the silence that envelops you.

Beside you, Rafe’s panic is palpable. His breaths come in quick, shallow gasps. In the blink of an eye, Rafe is moving past you, gun in hand. Your eyes widen in pure terror as the reality of the situation crashes down on you. “Rafe, Rafe! Stop—” you scream, your voice breaking with fear and desperation. But your plea is cut short by the deafening sound of a gunshot.

Instinctively, you block your ears and crouch down on the ground, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounds so fiercely you can feel it in your throat, each beat echoing in your ears. Over the ringing left by the gunshot, you can hear Sarah’s screams, high-pitched and filled with horror.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt the hot tears streaming down your face, mingling with the sweat and grime of the moment. A shaky breath escapes your lips as you slowly look up, dread gnawing at your insides. Your gaze settles on the scene before you, and an audible sob bursts from your throat.

Sheriff Peterkin is on the ground, a pool of blood spreading out beneath her. The stark crimson against the earth sends a wave of nausea through you. Rafe stands a few feet away, the gun still in his hand, his face a mask of shock and confusion. He had shot her. The reality of it hits you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Every detail sharpens into painful clarity—the way Peterkin’s body lies still, the glint of the handcuffs now forgotten beside her, the horrified expressions of everyone around. The world seems to contract to this single, unbearable moment. Your sobs come harder now, wracking your body as you struggle to process the horror of what just happened. The gravity of Rafe’s actions sinks in, and you feel a deep, gut-wrenching despair.

Sarah is sobbing uncontrollably as John B holds her close to him, his face a mix of shock and terror. “Rafe, what did you do?” Ward’s voice trembles with a mixture of horror and disbelief as he stares at his son.

Rafe, his eyes wild and manic, lets out a chilling chuckle. “I saved you, Dad,” he says, his voice tinged with a desperate glee. “I saved you!” he yells, his voice echoing in the stillness that follows the gunshot. You stand there, paralyzed, your hands clasped over your mouth in a futile attempt to contain the sobs threatening to escape.

Peterkins coughs, struggling to breathe. John B rushes to her side, desperately trying to stop the bleeding as you stand by, helpless. Your eyes dart to Rafe, his gun still trained on them. You grab his forearm, attempting to lower the weapon, but he remains unmoved, your efforts only eliciting another sob from your lips.

John B clutches Peterkins' radio, when Rafe shouts, "Hey! Hey, wait!" He lunges towards John B, and you fight to restrain him. "Rafe, stop it!" you scream, panic in your voice. "Rafe, no! Rafe!" Ward approaches quickly, his focus on his son. "Don't try it, asshole," Rafe snarls at John B, who swallows hard.

"Rafe—John B, give me the radio," Ward demands, extending his hand. John B hesitates, shaking his head, "No." Sarah's sobs grow louder, her tear-streaked face mirroring your own fear and shock as you look at each other.

"Come on," Ward insists, prying the radio from John B's hands. Rafe keeps his gun aimed, his expression tense. Ward steps in front of him, arm outstretched. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down."

"He has the radio, Rafe. Put the gun down!" you beg, your voice trembling with desperation. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot John B getting up and running, pulling Sarah with him "Where are you goin'? Huh?" Rafe shouts, pushing past side Ward as he yells out for Sarah.

In an instant, Rafe attempts to run after John B and Sarah, but you and Ward hold him back, pleading with him to calm down. "Where are you going?" he yells, his voice frantic. "Rafe, no!" you scream as he breaks free from your grip and starts shooting at John B and Sarah. "That's your sister, Rafe!" Ward shouts, trying to lower his son's arms.

You rush to Peterkins' body, your clothes now stained a deep crimson red. "I'm sorry," you sob, your shaky hands pressing against the wound. "It's not your fault, sweetie," she weakly whispers, as you continue to cry, "I'm so sorry!"

Rafe is breathing heavily, pacing as he watches you sobbing beside Peterkins. He regrets bringing you along. "Dad, I was trying to—" "Shut up!" Ward yells, his eyes shifting to you as he approaches.

Ward had always been like a father to you, believing you were a good influence on Rafe and treating you like his own daughter. But after what had just happened, you look up at Ward in terror. "Y/N," he says calmly. You don't reply as tears continue to stream down your face.

"I need you to get up," he says softly. "She is dying!" you scream, your voice breaking. "Y/N!" Rafe yells at you, his gaze cold and hard. You flinch under his glare. "What is wrong with you? You just shot somebody, Rafe!" Your voice cracks as he furiously storms up to you.

"You should've stayed in the car like I fucking told you!" he shouts, grabbing your biceps and forcefully pulling you to your feet. "I'm not going until the medics come!" you argue, your voice filled with desperation. "Get her home, Rafe!" Ward yells behind him.

"No, I'm not going!" you insist, trying to shake off Rafe's grip, but it's useless. "Rafe, she needs help!" you scream, thrashing against his hold. "Honey, I'm calling them, look!" Ward shows you the radio, trying to reassure you as Rafe drags you away. "Rafe, please!" you sob, trying to escape his grip as he manhandles you towards the car.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screams, yanking the car door open. "Get in the car." He shoves you aggressively into the seat, and you let out a scream. "Don't move!" he barks, slamming the door. You flinch, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling in terror at your unrecognisable boyfriend.

Inside the car, your mind races, fear and helplessness overwhelming you. You look out the window, seeing Ward and Peterkins, feeling utterly powerless.

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scrumdidiliyumyum · 10 days ago

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Prologue // Something special

Prologue -> Part 1 -> Part 2 Platonic yan!Batfam x reader

My mom would think I'm special.

I can't do big twists like my older brother Dick, or fight as fiercely as Damien seems to do, hours upon hours of.

I can't do it.

I can't fill the huge walls that seem so empty in this dark and ginormous room I was given, one that was bigger than the small, simple apartment we had once shared, filled with love that flowed through the seams of every crack and corner.

But it was our home, one filled with old furniture found at garage sales, towels and posters covering cracks in the walls, and a small little T.V. that would almost never work unless the sky was completely clear, a rarety in Gotham.

But as I sit here, feeling utterly alone, I can't even finding myself mourning her, in my mind she could walk in at a moments notice, and take me back into her loving arms, saying how sorry she was for leaving me to wallow in a room that was too big for someone as small as me to even begin to fill with love.

Dear god I wished my mom would run through those doors.

I've been here for a few months, just after my mom had passed from illness. It was obvious, the shaky hands that would hold my face, the coughs filled with a red I tried oh so hard to ignore, triping over her own feet, hands shooting out to grasp onto the nearest surface.

I was- am so young, but I know what death is, so much of it happens here in gotham after all, but for a moment, I wished, still do, that death could just stop following me, and that I could live in normalcy for once.

But after seeing my mom fall cold in the middle of making breakfast, suddenly silencing her soft humming in exchange for sputtering out blood, dropping the spatula she was holding, it was clear that a mercy like that wasn't possible for someone like me, someone who was destined to be able to do nothing for those dearest to me.

My mom would think I'm special, tell me I'm more than just a shadow and that I have value, talent, and unconditional love for those around me, something that's hard to find in gotham.

She would tell me that I'm special, and that she doesn't care about the empty walls, that we can fill them up with something else, something that tells a story about me, that gives the abnormally quiet room life and value.

But she isn't here to tell me that, and the family members who have gone through extreme measures just to avoid me, never once taking note of my interests, likes, dislikes, dreams, don't seem like they're going to anytime soon.

My mom used to tell me that when you love someone, you remember things about them without even having to try, that you look for them and see them in the little things, things that people who didn't know them wouldn't be able to see.

So why isn't it that my own family- father, siblings, blood or not- can't seem to do any of that?

This is kind of a draft/prologue :> ive been binging on yan!batfam fics recently, so I decided to make one as well!! Idk how I want to continue this, but if people like, it please let me know!!!

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #platonic batfam #yandere batfamily #reader insert #x reader

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 7 months ago

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Reminder; Don't Forget

(Scrap)

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader

➯a/n: i want park seonghwa to be mean to me while wearing a tank top, that is all ➯a/n: i'm going to start posting drafts that haven't been touched in over a month so they don't just collect dust, enjoy ya filthy animals

✃ "You need a reminder of who's good girl you are."

✫彡wordcount: 2.7k

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: YANDERE SMUT (hinted mafia/crime au)

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: THIS IS A DARK FICTION. EMPHASIS ON DARK FICTION. i do no condone pretty much anything seonghwa does in this fanfic. this is very dark, the darkest i've gone so if you are uncomfortable with that check out something else. we have here: dark/yandere/savior complex hwa, degrading, unsafe physical restraint, choking, destruction of personal property, shaming, dubcon, extremely possessive behavior, some ddlg themes, slapping, praise, yelling, captivity, crying, knifes thrown at reader as a punishment(none hit!!), threats of violence, manipulation, mind break, hair pulling, mention of edging, face humping, throat fucking, messy bj, not proof read

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Did you forget your place, hm? It certainly seems like it, acting like a slut when you're mine!" His grip on your neck tightens, a chuckle leaving his furled lips as you grab at his tank top desperately trying to force out apologies through the pressure he puts on your wind pipes. "What, you can't even say that you're sorry? Another's man's number in your phone and you can't tell me you're sorry?"

Oh he's evil, he loves to see you squirm. And squirm you do: pushing against his heavy weight on your hips and clawing at his arm as your lungs beg for air.

He lets go, arms crossing his chest as he leans back nonchalantly, every bit of his weight in your lap as you heave. "Hwa-seong...Hwa, I'm s-sorry! I thought, thought, it'd be okay hes just a f-friend-"

"You thought," he laughs cruelly, "are you even capable of that? Dumb little girl," he slaps your jaw, lightly, but it still makes you face the wall with a look of defeat.

"I think for you, is that clear?" You nod, tear stained cheeks gleaming in the light.

"Hey, am I clear?" he shouts this time, making you jump.

"Yes! Yes, Hwa, clear..."

"There's my good girl—" He brushes back your hair, cooing as you lean away, "you're the prettiest girl I ever laid my eyes on, and you think men don't see that? You think they're blind? Or are you really just that naiive, pretty baby?" His cool finger tips trail down to the blooming bruise on your neck, pressing softly to make you whine. "Give me your phone."

He's up and off your body in a second flat, letting you catch your breath as you slowly manage to pull yourself to your knees. He doesn't press you to hurry or yell, he doesn't do anything but sit back in the bean bag chair he gifted you for previously good behavior and watch you like a hawk. His legs spread and hands on his knees, resisting the urge to snatch you up. When you turn and see him on the other side of the room, you simply outstretch your arm with the old prepaid phone he provided you with a few weeks ago. "Bring it here," he commands lowly, eyes tracking your every move as you slowly move towards him on your knees- having no energy to stand.

He spreads his legs further, a silent instruction. You slot yourself between them and hold the phone to him tentative, shoulders relaxing as he takes it. "Thank you, beautiful. See, isn't it easy when you listen to me?" He unlocked the phone quickly, eyes flicking to you darkly when you go to take it back. "Got something to hide?" You shake your head, looking down as he takes your hands and places them on each of his thighs. "Don't move."

So you don't, simply breathing deeply to replenish your abused lungs while he combs through your phone with a fine toothed comb. You know you haven't done anything truly wrong, but it seems like he has different definitions to you.

"Good girl..." He whispers to himself as he sees the message of you shooting down the idea your friend tried to corrupt you with, to go out without him. "Stupid, but good..." He continues as he reads through every message with the phone number of the man. He monitors everything you do, it was only a matter of time before he got around to checking all of the numbers in your phone and their owners.

"Aw, you really are just naiive, huh? My poor little angel. Cant even tell when someone's trying to take you away from me-" He tuts his tongue, setting the phone down on the floor. When you go to pick it up, he kicks your hand away. "Sorry, Baby, you can't be trusted with big girl stuff yet. Gotta learn first." He smashes the device beneath his booted heel, a squeal passing through your lips at the loud metallic crunch.

"Hwa!" A pouty whine comes before you can stop it, tears welling up in your eyes all over again. When he cocks his eyebrow up, you cower between his legs, stuttering quietly. "Sorry, m'sorry..." He swipes the destroyed phone to the side with his boot before tapping your hip with it. You shuffle quickly, untying his shoes with a shaky breath.

"I know you get bored baby, but I can't have others corrupting your mind. I'll get you some new books, maybe even a TV for in here if you're extra good." You whisper a soft thank you, and a promise you will be as you set his shoes off to the side neatly.

"Look up at me, Doll. C'mon don't be angry," you look up at him as softly as you can, a groan of affection bubbling past his throat, "there's my pretty little thing." You rub your fingers on his jean-clad legs in an attempt to ground yourself as he looks down at you like a predator that's spotted it's next meal.

"Aren't you so happy you have me to take care of you? Who knows what others would do to that pretty face of yours— not to mention that pretty cunt."

A heat immediately finds it way to your face, and he laughs deeply. "Oh, please, don't be coy. You know as well as I do that if I didn't take you out of there that that little hole would be ruined in an hour. I saved you."

You hide your face in his lap, mind racing. It's true that he's more gently than other people you've had the dis-pleasure of encountering in his line of work. But that doesn't make him any less over bearing and obsessive. His possessiveness bordering on ownership. Sometimes you're truly thankful he scooped you up before anyone else could touch you- other times you curse him for it.

He rubs the back of your head gently, leaning up in the slouching chair, like he can sense your thoughts. "You aren't going anywhere, Baby. You're mine- until the day you die and even after that. Even God himself couldn't pry you away from me. You are mine. Do you understand that?" You nod into his lap, a quiet 'yes,hwa' muffled by his jeans. "Such a sweet thing," he whispers before gripping your hair and pulling you up, earning a gasp.

That glint in his eyes- "Hwa, wait, wait—" he did no such thing, standing up with his clothed crotch in your face, pulling your hands up to his belt.

"You need a reminder of who's good girl you are-"

"No-"

"No?!" He laughed in disbelief, nails digging into your scalp as he makes you look up at him, the stretch of your neck uncomfortable as he cranes it up. There's a sharp hunger in his eyes, "you're so cute -so, so, so, cute when you're defiant... but I'm not in the fucking mood. Get your ass up," he tugs you up by your hair, ignoring the sharp yelps that tremble past your lips.

"Ple-ase don't take me downstairs! I'll be good, I'll be good!"

"It's okay baby, we aren't going downstairs," he positions you back to the wall and backs up, pushing you back when you try to follow and apologize. "I'm too tired." The glimmer of hope is stomped out as he unlocked his side of the nightstand. "You can take your punishment here."

"Hwa... I'm real sor-" A skinny throwing knife that thuds into the wall next to your head shuts you up quick, a squeal replacing your pleas.

"Been looking after you so much, I'm rusty-" He throws another with a groan, hiding his smirk as you jump, "stay still baby, I'm out of practice." You can't help but duck as it thunks into the wall just above your head.

"Stand up straight!" His booming voice shakes you to your core, and you stand as straight as you can manage with the knot forming in your gut. You grip the wall with your finger tips, looking down at your feet so you don't see the sharp objects coming. You've found that it's less fearful that way.

Knife after knife is thrown, each dull thump making you twitch as they're buried into the drywall in the outline of your body.

When they finally stall, his sock clad feet come into view, his curved knuckle lifting your chin. The flame in his eyes has faded to a simmer, an almost fond one. "Are you done being a brat? Or should I let my hand slip next time I need target practice?"

"I'm done..." you speak with a gulp, body still frozen against the wall lest you move and graze against the blades.

He seems to sense your thoughts once again, cooing softly as he notices your tense shoulders. "C'mon, sweet girl," he carefully pulls you straight out from the wall and twirls you around.

He wraps his arms around under yours and grips your shoulders, holding you close to his chest and resting his chin on your head. "Your life in my hands... Such a delicate thing you are." You eyes trail over the outline of your body, traced with throwing daggers. "If you just behaved, I wouldn't have to scare you. It's the best way for you to learn, my love. That fear you feel when we go downstairs, when I have you pinned up- that's the fear you would feel every waking moment without me. Just be a good girl, and let me protect you..."

"...Okay, I'm sorry, Hwa... I don't know why I act out," You don't know if you're telling the truth anymore. It is even acting out? You sometimes think you have a right to.

Maybe— "Maybe you like it when I'm mean to you."

You don't know what you would have thought, but that wasn't it. You think he likes being mean to you. He always finds a reason to punish you: whether it be with bone chilling fear or being pushed to your sexual edge and then repeatedly denied.

Some days, he's softer with the sexual aspect of his obsession with you.

He turns you back around and shoves you to his knees, right back into his clothed bulge where you started. "I want to claim you, I'm going to claim you. Every part. Take it off now before I decide to skull fuck you." Your breath hitches in your throat, lip trembling at his threat, knowing full well he will follow through.

Today is not one of those days, you realize.

You hands quickly find their way to his belt, unbuckling the golden buckle and letting it dangle, the button undone next and the zipper followed. He didn't bother to kick his jeans off, or even pull them down. Only his cock out, twitching to life infront of you inpatiently. "You belong to me, I'm gonna get that through your thick skull" -he flicks your head- "even if I have to use my cock."

He rubs against your cheek, sighing out in pleasure at the feeling of your hot embarrassed face. "Say my name," he whispers deeply, eyes swirling with an unreadable mix of emotions.

"Seonghwa," you pant out shyly, eyes closed as you feel him rutting against your face, his pre cum smearing on your cheek bone. His grip is continually becoming softer, loving as he lewdly humps your head. Your hands find purchase on his sock clad feet, helping you lift up your body into him. "Seonghwa," it comes out as a moan, and a thick groan comes from him in response.

He steps back just an inch, looking down at your tear stained face, his fresh pre-cum glimmering on the side of your face.

His full lips curve into a smile, his previously angry facade fading as quick as it came when he busted in the door earlier, while he lifts you to the bed and lets your head hang.

He's even beautiful when viewed upside down-

"You make it hard to ever leave your side, pretty girl. I could spend the rest of my life buried in any of your gorgeous holes, I love you so much."

"I love you, Hwa. I-" Your breath catches in your throat as the words tear through your throat. "I do want you to claim me, I want to know I'm yours." One of your hands seems to sprout a mind of its own, wrapping around the base of his thick and smooth girth. "Let me take care of you, and you take care of me."

A groan dies on his lips, shuddering as you slowly stroke him, the words you speak shooting through his heart and down to his balls. "Let me be your good girl. Please, I know I can!"

The fear he instilled in you just moments ago festered into a need to please, to solidify your place by his side so he would never leave. He never would dream of it- leaving you. You are his heart and soul personified. You hold his entire being in your hands, and you have no idea.

"Yeah? Gonna be my good girl again? Make it up to me?" His heart flutters as you nod enthusiastically, your mouth opening wide for him and tongue lolling out."Fuck, that's a good girl," he spreads his legs around your dangling head, slim fingers gathering yours to your chest and holding them ever so softly as he slips right down your throat.

The hot, velvety skin encasing him makes him moan loudly, squeezing your hands to ground himself and keep himself from fucking your skull like his life depends on it. But, oh, how he wants to—

"Good fucking girl, that's it, just like I taught you," you gulp around his overwhelming length, eyes closing as you focus on breathing through your nose, the smell of his body wash somehow soothing to your fried nervous system.

He holds himself back as long as he can, thrusting in your throat slowly and basking in the warmth of it. But as your saliva builds, nowhere to go, and the wet and lewd squelch of your throat grows louder, he can no longer do that. He intertwines his fingers with yours and lets you squeeze tightly, a soft growl letting you know his arousal is at a peak before he loses all control-

His hips draw back and slam into you, the head of his cock poking at the very depth of your throat and making you gag, and the noise just stirs him on, going again and again and again to hear that sweet sound of you choking around him. Sticky saliva tainted with the white of his pre-cum drips from the corners of your stretched mouth, dripping up your face. It seems like the onslaught will never end, but he has bigger plans for his building release.

The moment your throat is free of his cock, you draw in a large gasp, all of the wetness in your mouth dripping like a waterfall, letting you heave as he watches with dark eyes. Not that you can see the lust driven look on his face, if you were to open your eyes you'd be blinded by spit and cum.

He discards his pants and top as he lets you catch your breath, cooing all the while about how good you just did for him. He uses the softness of his tank top to wipe away most of the filth on your face, and you finally peek your eyes open as you feel him lift you.

You swear there's hearts swirling in the darkness of his eyes as he scans your messy face, a permanent smirk plastered on his features. "Pretty girl, you're such a mess for me," you can only pant in response, leaning into the palm he places on your cheek as he lays you down right-side-up, letting your head collide with the soft pillows.

The moment he put a pillow under your back, you knew you were in for a long ride.

And by the end of it, you wouldn't forget who you belong to.

#ateez #ateez fic #yandere ateez #ateez smut #ateez smau #park seonghwa #yandere park seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #smut fic #yandere fic

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couldsewyouastitchandsavenine · 8 days ago

Text

Simmer — Javi Peña

pairings: modern times chef!javi x f!reader

word count: 4.2K

a/n: so this happened... been obsessing over javi peña as a head-chef for a long, long time. anyway, hope you enjoy it. huge shoutout to @pedroschka for reading the very first draft of this and to @iamasaddie for NOT being immune to my dad jokes. babes, this one is for you. like, share and subs— *runs out of the room*

warnings: javi peña AU, explicit smut with a bit of angst, closet sex, sneaking around, unprotected p in v., fingering, dirty talk, javi is an asshole (just a little), obligatory use of cariño (sue me!)

The air shimmers with heat as you push through the double doors into the kitchen, the weight of the produce in your arms making your muscles burn. Sweat beads along your hairline, trickling down the back of your neck to soak into the collar of your already damp shirt. You grit your teeth against the discomfort, blowing a stray tendril of hair out of your eyes with a huff of irritation.

It's too goddamn early for this, but the dinner rush waits for no one. Least of all you.

Lost in thought, you navigate the familiar maze of stainless steel countertops and simmering stovetops on autopilot. Your mind is already ten steps ahead, running through your prep list and mentally cataloguing what still needs to be done before service. So preoccupied are you that you don't notice the solid wall of muscle looming in your path until it's too late.

The collision sends you reeling, the crates tumbling from your arms to hit the floor with a dull thud. Produce scatters in every direction, onions rolling underfoot and carrots skittering across the tiles.

A large, calloused hand closes around your elbow, steadying you before you can add your body to the mess on the floor.

“Easy there, hermosa.” The low rumble of Javier's voice washes over you, his amusement evident in the way the endearment drips like honey from his tongue. Cloying. Sticky-sweet. It raises your hackles even as your traitorous pulse kicks up a notch at his proximity.

You jerk away from his touch, your skin scorched where his fingers branded you. Heat crawls up your neck to set your cheeks ablaze as you force yourself to meet his gaze head-on.

Javier's lips twitch, a ghost of a smirk playing at the corners. The urge to slap it off his face is nearly overwhelming.

Because honestly, it unsettles you—the way he can peel you open with a glance. The way he seems to see through you, right down to your core, to all the secrets you keep buried deep. It makes you want to squirm, to hide. To lash out just to prove him wrong.

But you don’t. You never do.

Instead, you swallow hard. Ignore the way your tongue suddenly feels too thick and clumsy for your dry mouth.

"I'm fine," you rasp eventually, wincing internally at the breathless quaver in your voice.

He says nothing, just raises his hands in mock surrender and takes a deliberate step back. You tell yourself it's relief that shivers down your spine.

You're lying.

Determined to put some much-needed distance between you, you bend to start scooping up the wayward produce, dumping the armload of carrots and onions onto the counter with more force than necessary. It’s childish and it’s petty, but you have no other way to fight it. Because Javier’s gaze is still on you, a leaden weight between your shoulder blades.

So, you do the one thing that seems to be the solution. You run. Whirl on your heel and stalk towards the walk-in cooler without a backward glance.

The cool air that hits your overheated skin as you step inside is a balm to your fractured nerves. You suck in a shuddering breath, relishing the way the cold sears your lungs and clears the haze from your head. But it does little to quell the restless energy thrumming through your veins, the ache of of want that sinks its hooks into you whenever Javier is near.

With a low growl, you drag a hand through your hair, fingers snagging in the wild tangle of knots and snarls. You tug until your scalp burns with pain. Grounding you.

God, what the hell is wrong with you?

It must be the heat outside because you can’t seem to remember the last time everything felt slightly off-kilter as today. As if the whole world is just slightly out of focus, and with Javi’s dark eyes tracking your every move and that knowing half-smile playing at the corners of his unfairly distracting mouth under that ridiculous moustache, you half-wonder if you’re are caught in some strange waking dream.

You half expect to blink and find yourself waking in your own bed, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Alone. Untouched. Wanting.

But no, this is real. The chilly bite of the air, the clatter of pots and the hiss of the grill just beyond the fridge door, the ache in your shoulders from too many hours hunched over a too-small apartment stove—all of it is real.

And Javi. Javi is real. Had been for a year now, ever since you started at Ríncon as his saucier. His presence is as tangible as the stainless steel counters and the scuffed tile beneath your feet, as constant as the ebb and flow of orders and the controlled chaos of the dinner rush.

He’s real and so is the memory of that night. The ghost of Javier's lips on your neck, hot and hungry as he backed you into the shelving. The rasp of his stubble against your jaw, the slick slide of his tongue against yours as he swallowed your needy whimper. The way his big hands flexed on your hips, yanking you flush against the hard planes of his body like he could fuse you together through sheer force of will alone.

And you’d like to say that you put up some token resistance that night. That you were the kind of person who had self-respect and standards and lines that couldn't be crossed.

But that would be a lie. Because the truth is, you’d spun in his arms and yanked him closer, hands fisting in the front of his chef’s jacket. The truth is, when he'd walked you backwards until the shelving bit into your spine and sealed his mouth over yours, you’d whimpered embarrassingly into the kiss.

The truth is, you’d wanted it.

Afterwards, once you’d righted your clothes and avoided each other's eyes, shame and exhilaration warring within you, he'd cleared his throat and said gruffly that it could never happen again. That it was a one-off, a momentary lapse in judgement. Nothing more.

And you had agreed. Had nodded. And then went on with your life as you normally would.

Except you couldn’t. Not even a little bit. Because that one slip had been like a crack in a dam and now the want was flooding through, unstoppable.

And so it happened again. And again. Stolen moments, illicit touches. The slam of your back against the walk-in door, the cold metal a stark contrast to the fevered heat of his skin. His fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he hitched you higher, urged your legs to wrap around his waist. Frantic coupling in the alley behind the restaurant, brick rasping your palms as you braced yourself against the wall, biting your lip till you tasted copper while he drove into you hard and fast.

Once, memorably, he’d taken you in the backseat of his car after a late catering gig. It was graceless, awkward, his elbow jabbing painfully into your kidney at some point, but God, the way he’d felt inside you. Like he was trying to crawl beneath your skin; possess you from the inside out. Like if he just fucked you hard enough, deep enough, he could leave an imprint. A mark. Proof that you were his, even if neither of you would ever say the words aloud.

And you know it's fucked up. Know that despite the dark thrill, the toe-curling pleasure, this thing between you is a disaster waiting to happen. One of you will get careless, too drunk on pleasure to maintain discretion, and it will all blow up in your faces. You’ll be the one to lose your job, your reputation in tatters. He'll be the subject of high fives and envy in the kitchen, just another conquest to boast about.

You know this. You really do.

But when he looks at you like he does, all your good intentions seem to crumble to ash. He’ll crook a finger at you, head cocked towards the storage room, and you’ll follow. You always fucking follow. Because for those stolen heartbeats when he’s buried inside of you and his hands are branding your hips, you can pretend it means something. That you mean something. To him. That you are more than a convenient warm body. More than a willing repository for his lust and stress and pent-up frustrations.

It's pathetic. You’re pathetic. Panting after him like a dog whining for scraps from the table. But self-awareness has never been much of an aphrodisiac.

So you hide.

In the walk-in where the frigid air can leach the fever from your skin. Where you don’t have to see the way his throat works when he swallows or the flex of sinewy forearms revealed by rolled up sleeves. You hide until your nipples are hard from cold instead of shameful arousal and your chest no longer feels like it might crack open from the strain of containing your idiotically rioting heart.

Sucking in a fortifying breath, you push off the shelves. Run damp palms down your thighs, thankful for the wicking fabric of your chef's pants. You just have to get through service. Keep your head down and your knife steady. Just a few more hours and you can escape to the sanctuary of your shitty apartment. Where you absolutely will not fuck yourself on your own hand to the memory of his low groan in your ear. Again.

You’re fine. It's fine. Everything is fine.

The fridge door swings open with a gust of frigid air, startling you out of your spiralling thoughts. You twist around only to find Javi leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. There is a smudge of flour on his cheek. You want to lick it off.

Instead, you curl your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms. Swallow hard around the knot in your throat.

“You plannin’ on hiding in here all day?” His voice is light, teasing. But there's an undercurrent of something else, a tension that crackles in the air between you.

Straightening, you tug at the hem of your tee. A nervous habit, one you can’t seem to break. "Just needed a minute."

He nods, dark eyes watching you. Seeing too much, as always. The silence stretches, heavy with all the things you don't say. All the things you can't say, not without shattering this fragile truce you’ve built. This careful dance of almost, maybe, not quite.

Clearing your throat, you drop your gaze. Fix it on the collar of his shirt, the sliver of bronzed skin at the hollow of his throat. The thin gold chain resting against his collarbones, glinting in the harsh fluorescent light.

The same chain you sometimes catch between your teeth when you’re tangled together in the dark, skin slick with sweat and hands grasping, claiming. When you’re biting back the obscene sounds that claw up your throat, desperate to hold on to some shred of control even as he takes you apart with clever fingers and wicked tongue.

Heat flares low in your belly at the memory, prickling across your skin. You shift, restless. Aching. "Well, I guess I should get back to it."

You move to brush past him, to escape the charged air of the fridge and the wanting that coils like a snake in your gut. But he's too quick, too close. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, calluses dragging against your racing pulse.

"Wait." There's a rasp to his voice, a rough edge that sends a shiver skittering down your spine.

You go still, hardly daring to breathe. This... this is new. Uncharted territory. You don't linger in each other's space like this, not when you're both fully clothed and clear-headed. It's too dangerous, too much like tempting fate.

"What is it, Javi?" It comes out softer than you intend, almost breathless.

He sighs, a harsh exhale through his nose as he drags his free hand through his hair. The dark strands fall back into artful disarray almost immediately. Everything about this man is effortless, from the way he commands a kitchen to the way he commands your body. Confident. Self-assured.

"Nothing, just..." He trails off, shaking his head. Something flickers in the depths of his dark eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to decipher. Frustration, maybe. Regret. "Nothing. Never mind."

And then he's gone, shouldering through the door and leaving you standing there, stomach twisting with that all too familiar mix of frustration and anticipation.

So you return to your station. You chop and sauté, season and taste, hands moving on autopilot as your mind wanders. Steve, the sous chef, drops by your station to crack a few jokes, his easy smile and laid-back demeanor a welcome distraction from the tangled knot of emotions in your chest. He updates you on his ideas for the new tasting menu, shares a bit of gossip he heard from the chatty sommelier—anything to fill the charged silence of the kitchen.

But even as you nod along, making all the right noises in all the right places, you can't ignore the shiver that races down your spine every time Javier passes behind you, his arm brushing yours as he reaches for a pan. Can't seem to tune out the low, authoritative cadence of his voice as he calls out orders to the line, each word wrapping around you like a physical touch.

It doesn't help that he's foregone his usual chef's whites today in favor of a thin grey tee, the worn fabric clinging lovingly to every curve and plane of his torso. So it isn’t much of a surprise that by the time service ends and the last of the dishes are washed and stacked, you’re wound tighter than a clockspring.

—

The dishrag makes a damp squelch as you wring it out, the white cloth slowly soaking up the smears and crumbs littering your workstation. It's mundane work, the kind that usually lets your mind drift, but today all your senses feel heightened, electrified. Because you can feel him behind you.

Even without looking, you know exactly how close Javi is standing - mere inches away, his body a live wire of coiled energy. The hairs on your neck prickle to attention as his breath washes over your skin, his low rasp sending a shiver down your spine as he murmurs, "Storage room. Five minutes."

And then, just like that, his warmth is gone. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Javi shrug off his apron, the stained fabric hitting the hook with a dull slap as he strides purposefully towards the back.

"Fuck." The curse is barely a whisper, more a shaky exhale that you didn't realise you'd been holding in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as your gaze darts around the bustling kitchen. Steve is leaning across the steel counter, flashing the cute new pastry chef a crooked grin as she carefully pipes delicate swirls on a tray of mille-feuille. Over by the sinks, a trio of line cooks laugh uproariously, their voices bouncing off the tiled walls as they no doubt swap exaggerated tales of culinary glory.

No one is paying you any attention. It would be so easy to slip away unnoticed, to grab your bag and walk out into the night, pretending you never heard Javi's summons. The rational part of your brain screams at you to do just that, to put an end to this dangerous game before someone gets hurt.

But even as the thought forms, you know you won't do it. Can't do it. Because as much as you hate to admit it, you crave this — the illicit thrill, the rush of sneaking around, the electric snap of connection that sizzles between you and Javi. It's a drug, and you're addicted.

Suddenly, your hands are way too clammy so you wipe them against your pants, the rough fabric scratching your skin. Then, with a last glance around to make sure no one is watching, you slip out of the kitchen and down the narrow hallway.

When you reach the storage room door, you pause, palm hovering over the knob. From within, you can hear Javi moving around - the clatter of bottles, the scrape of crates across concrete…

This is it. Your last chance to turn back, to walk away and pretend this never happened. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. You think of Javi waiting on the other side of the door, all coiled intensity and wicked smiles. Of the way his hands feel on your body, the rasp of his stubble against your throat. The broken sound he makes when he comes undone.

Fuck it.

Twisting the handle, you take a deep breath and step inside.

Javi stands in the center of the tiny room, a bottle of sherry vinegar forgotten in his hand as his gaze rakes over you. And then he’s setting the bottle down with exaggerated care, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Lock the door."

“Already did.”

Though it's unnecessary, you take a lean into the solid wood at your back. Your already racing heart kicks into overdrive as Javi stalks towards you, his movements fluid and predatory. He cages you in with his arms, his body a hot, hard line against yours. This close you can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the fan of his lashes against his cheek.

His lips hover a hairsbreadth from yours, his breath a feather-light caress. "We shouldn't," he murmurs, even as he rolls his hips into you.

"I know." Your hands come up to map the broad expanse of his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tee. "But I don't care."

Javi makes a low sound, almost pained, and drops his forehead to rest against yours. The rasp of his stubble ignites sparks across your skin. "Me neither."

Then he's kissing you, deep and hungry, and whatever lingering reservations you had melt away like spun sugar. You open to him eagerly, hands fisting in his hair as you arch into the cradle of his hips. He licks into your mouth, hot and filthy, while his hands skim down your sides to cup your ass and pull you impossibly closer.

It's too much and not enough all at once. You hook a leg around his waist, desperate for more contact, and he growls into the kiss. His fingers dig into your flesh hard enough to bruise as he grinds against you, the thick ridge of him hitting you just right through the layers of denim and cotton.

You tear your mouth from his with a gasp, head tipping back as he blazes a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. "Javi, please..."

He shushes you gently even as he walks you backwards, only stopping when you hit the edge of the stainless steel prep table. The cold bite of it against your overheated skin makes you hiss, but the sound is swallowed by Javi's lips as they find yours again. His clever hands make quick work of the buttons on your fly, and then he's gripping your hips and hoisting you up onto the tabletop like you weigh nothing at all.

His fingers are on you before you can fully process what’s happening, pressing against the damp cotton of your underwear. Helplessly, you buck against his hand, head falling back and eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Always so fucking ready for it," he rasps, fingers skating over the heat of you. "So wet for me, cariño."

You mewls, hips canting frantically as he circles your clit. "Please, Javi, I can't—"

"Shh, I've got you."

He sinks two fingers into you. Crooks them just right and just like that you’re gone, the tension and the waiting too much to handle. You clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming out, your body spasming and shaking. Javi just grins slowly as he wraps his other arm around you, gentling his touch before bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean.

“Want me inside you?” he asks and there’s that smirk again, tugging at his lips, but you’re too preoccupied with the need and want to care. So you nod, frantically. “Well, then, turn around. Hands on the table.”

You scramble to comply, anticipation zipping down your spine as you flip over and brace yourself against the cool steel.

This is wrong, some distant part of you whispers. It's reckless and stupid and is going to blow up in both your faces. But as Javi steps in close behind you, the hot press of him against your back and the whisper of his breath on your neck, you find it impossible to care.

“Ja—” you bite out as he nudges his thickness against your entrance.

“Say you want it,” he rasps, bending over you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. One hand slides around your hip to press against your belly, holding you steady. "Say you want me to fuck you."

"I want it," you gasp, pushing back against him. "Fuck me, Javi, please—"

He doesn't make you ask twice. With a growl that vibrates through you, he snaps his hips, sheathing himself in your heat with one hard thrust. The breath punches out of your lungs, fingernails scrabbling against stainless steel for something to hold onto.

Dimly, you register the harsh screech of the table beneath you, the way it shudders with each slam of Javi's hips against yours. But it's distant, drowned out by the roar of blood in your ears and the filthy litany falling from Javier's lips.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." His chest drapes along your back, damp with sweat, as he mouths at the side of your neck. "So tight. So perfect."

He snakes a hand around your hip, fingers seeking out your aching clit. The first rough press of his fingertips against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you jerking in his hold, a high, threadbare sound tearing from your throat.

"That's it, baby." Javi's breath is a humid rush against your ear, his words nearly lost in the damp tendrils of your hair. "Let go for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

It's like a tripwire snapping. Your orgasm crashes into you, a tidal wave of sensation that obliterates everything in its path. You're vaguely aware of Javi cursing, of his thrusts losing their rhythm as he chases his own release. Then his body goes taut against yours, a low groan rumbling through his chest as he spills himself deep inside you.

For a long moment, there is only the ragged sound of your breathing and the rapid thud of your heartbeat. Javier doesn't move, his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, his softening length still nestled in the clutch of your body.

And then he's pulling away and you can only push yourself upright on shaking arms, biting back a wince at the protestations of your muscles. Behind you, the rustle of fabric tells you Javier is making himself presentable, but you can't bring yourself to turn around.

When you finally do, he simply hands you your clothes without a word. You take them, grateful for the excuse to keep your eyes averted. The silence stretches, thick and cloying, as you both dress with perfunctory movements.

This is always the worst part. The part where reality reasserts itself, cold and unforgiving. The part where you're forced to confront the stark truth of what you've done, of the lines you've crossed.

Your fingers fumble with the buttons of your trousers, clumsy and numb. Across the cramped space, you can feel the tension radiating off Javier in waves. See the rigid set of his shoulders from the corner of your eye. Your chest aches with a nameless emotion, the jagged pieces of your heart grinding together like broken glass.

This has to stop. You can't keep doing this, can't keep tearing each other apart in dark corners and hidden rooms. It's not sustainable, this twisted thing between you. Sooner or later, something will give. Someone will give.

And you're terrified it will be you.

"Javi..." The word feels too loud in the oppressive quiet. You swallow hard, dragging your gaze up to his face. His expression is carefully blank, but you can see the tick in his jaw, the way he won’t meet your eyes.

He cuts you off before you can continue. "I'll clean up in here." His voice is rough, scraped raw. "You should go."

It's an out, and you're too much of a coward not to take it. You nod, more to yourself than to him, not trusting your voice. Then, on numb legs, you slip past him into the deserted hallway, the snick of the door closing behind you sounding like a gunshot in the hush.

The back alley is blessedly empty when you stumble out into the balmy night air. The rough brick of the restaurant's exterior scrapes your spine through your thin shirt as you sag against it, eyes squeezing shut. You breathe deeply, trying to will away the hot press of tears, the yawning emptiness carving itself into your chest.

This has to stop. It will stop.

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.

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