#Can you imagine the glare every time he sets it off?

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Two

Lisbette can’t sleep that night. She tosses and turns for a long time, before finally sitting up and glaring at the wall. Emmrich Volkarin is just through that wall, no doubt sleeping soundly. He probably wears striped pajamas and one of those long, tapering night caps over his perfect silver hair. 

Her lips twitch as she imagines it. What would he look like if she went in there and got into bed with him? Scandalised, no doubt. His nightcap might fall off. 

She sighs and flops onto her back. As amusing as it is to think about, she’d gotten carried away earlier that afternoon. She didn’t want to make the professor angry with her, or make him uncomfortable. She should have welcomed him to the Lighthouse, but instead anger had hijacked her mouth and she’d said and done all...that.

Lisbette couldn’t understand why. Probably it was a mixture of her anger and hurt toward the Mourn Watch and the fact that she’d always found Professor Volkarin to be particularly handsome and charming. Poking at him, teasing him, making him glower at her. It was better that he was angry with her than pity her. She doesn’t want his apologies for how the Mourn Watch treated her. If he tries to apologise, she thinks she might scream, or sob, or both. 

She reaches for his book, Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead , and reads a few passages, idly turning the pages. She’s never read it, but the content is painfully familiar. It feels like her childhood. It feels like home. She ends up with the book clutched against her chest with both arms wrapped around it, her eyes closed against the tears that threaten to fall. 

She doesn’t miss the Mourn Watch. 

All right, maybe she does, deep down.

But no one was going to hear that from her. Ever. 

It has been a long, filthy day in the Hossberg Wetlands. Lisbette chose Davrin to come with her, because as a Grey Warden, he’s a natural choice for the area. Then she asked Emmrich to make up their third as a kind of apology she didn’t have to say out loud, because she thought he’d enjoy the gloomy atmosphere of the place as much as she did. 

After a particularly bloody and blighted fight, she and Davrin were filthy, but Emmrich was as pristine as when they set out. Dirt didn’t seem to want to cling to the professor.

‘Oh dear,’ Emmrich tuts, looking at them both. ‘Neither of you have learned dirt-repelling charms. I put them on my clothes every morning. The dead can be so messy.’

Despite the fact that she’s resolved to keep things strictly Fade-related and professional with Emmrich, Lisbette speaks without thinking. 

‘Dirt-repelling charms?’ she asks, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek. ‘I’ve never heard of those before.’

‘The principles are simple. I can tell you about them, if you wish.’

She eyes Professor Volkarin warily. He’s smiling pleasantly at her, and they have a long walk to their next destination. This doesn’t seem like a topic that concerns Watchers particularly, and so she cautiously nods. 

The two of them discuss the theory behind the charm and the mage who invented them, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s enjoying their conversation. Professor Volkarin is a great deal less formal with her than he was as her professor. He’s animated as he speaks, gesturing with his staff and his hands, and adding a lot more personal opinion about things than he ever used to do. 

Then he says something that feels to Lisbette like tripping up and falling flat on her face. 

‘Vorgoth hasn’t been without a dirt-repelling charm since the incident with the ink bottles and the four playful spirits from the lower Necropolis.’

The playful spirits from the lower Necropolis. They’d been her friends when she was a child. They’d played spooky hide-and-seek with her, popping out of urns and chasing her around statues. She’d never been afraid back then. She hadn’t learned fear until very recently. 

‘Lisbette?’ Emmrich says. 

She realises he’s been talking and she hasn’t heard a word. ‘Sorry, I was...thinking about the Evanuris.’

But the professor isn’t fooled. He asks gently, ‘I think you’d rather not speak of that place. Am I right?’

Lisbette watches Davrin and Assan up ahead. Her pride is telling her to keep her mouth shut. No one from the Mourn Watch can know how much she misses them. It’s embarrassing. Shameful somehow. They turned their backs on her, and she won’t come scratching at the door like a pathetic stray cat.  

It was strange seeing the Necropolis yesterday after so long. The long corridors, decorative urns, and flickering veilfire had once been home to her. The most wonderful place in the world. 

‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t be returning there ever again.’

‘Ah, so I shouldn’t ask if you...’ He trails off and smiles. ‘Nothing. Never mind.’

They walk together in strained silence, Lisbette looking everywhere but at him. 

‘I find that long walks are preferable if there is conversation,’ the professor says in a cheerful tone. ‘Would necromancy in general be an agreeable topic of conversation for you, Lisbette?’ 

‘Yes it would,’ she tells him. ‘Very welcome, actually. The group tends to be disconcerted by the ‘death stuff,’ as they call it.’

‘The death stuff is weird,’ Davrin calls back to them.

Emmrich and Lisbette exchange glances, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s smiling. 

‘People from outside Nevarra, they’re the strange ones,’ Lisbette says.

‘Burning their dead. Heartbreaking.’ 

‘So wasteful.’

The professor speaks eloquently about his corpse whispering, and the necromancer in Lisbette can’t help but be drawn into a technical conversation about souls and spirits. 

This is surprisingly nice, she thinks to herself as they walk along. As long as they don’t talk about the Mourn Watch, she’ll be happy to chat with the professor any time, and it was comforting speaking with someone who’s known her longer than everyone else in her life. 

Hours later, they're stepping back through the eluvians, and she feels as though she should say something to the professor. 

Saying sorry was too much for her pride, so she expresses gratitude instead. ‘Thank you for coming today. I liked having you with us. Me.’

‘I was pleased to be of service. Oh, dear,’ Emmrich murmurs, and plucks an invisible speck of dust from his pristine coat. ‘I fear I’m filthy.’

‘Bathing in this place is fine, but don’t you miss the-’ Lisbette breaks off. She was about to say, Don’t you miss the bathhouses at the Mourn Watch . 

She misses the bathhouses. She misses the friends she made, and the camaraderie of being with other necromancers. She misses being among people who uncomplicatedly like her. Who don’t look at her like she’s strange or wrong or is going to get them all killed, even if they have accepted their deaths. 

For a moment she can’t breathe, as if death itself has stopped her throat. 

Emmrich reaches for her. ‘Lisbette? Are you unwell?’

If he manages to put his hand on her shoulder, she’ll probably cry, and then he’ll look at her with pity, which is the last thing she wants from people who turned their backs on her. 

Lisbette shakes her head and hurries into the Lighthouse, grateful for her masses of curls that hide her face. 

--

Emmrich can’t remember the last time he felt this angry. The mission was a success and everyone was safe. Including Lisbette. Thankfully, especially Lisbette. She had fought remarkably, one might say even magnificently, facing down the horror that is Ghila’nain without flinching. He’d been inspired, even dazzled, in those moments.

But to punch the First Warden. 

This is not the behaviour of the thoughtful and compassionate leader who he’s been growing to esteem.

That night at the Lighthouse, everyone is congratulating Lisbette on her actions, praising them and even laughing about them. Only Bellara is silent, but her silence is uncertain. 

Emmrich leaves them to their laughter and retreats to his rooms. He needs tea. 

Later, he passes Lisbette in the library. 

‘Lisbette,’ he says with a polite incline of his head, because it’s bad manners not to greet her.

He is already past her when she calls to him, ‘Is that all you have to say, Professor Volkarin?’

There’s a distinct sass to her voice. 

Emmrich stops, and then turns around to face her. How best to proceed when faced with an angry young woman who is his senior in rank, however informal things are at the Lighthouse, but who he longs to dress down as though she was still his student? 

She’s not writing snarky little essays now. She could get herself killed. 

He clasps his hands behind his back and regards her with a grave expression. ‘We made an impressive stand at Weisshaupt, but I was taken aback by certain events of the day.’

Lisbette’s eyes glitter with anger. ‘Just say it. I shouldn’t have punched the First Warden. That’s not how a Mourn Watcher behaves.’

‘I am conscious of your feelings on the matter of the Mourn Watch and I won’t speak of them, as I have already told you.’

She was being entirely too sensitive about the Mourn Watch, but he would respect her wishes even if he didn’t understand them. 

She was being entirely too sensitive now as well. 

‘You don’t have to say it. Your disapproval is written all over your face.’ 

‘You are better than how you behaved today, Lisbette.’

Her eyes narrow, and she takes an angry breath. ‘And what gives you the right to decide that? You can’t form a council and pass judgment on me, and exclude me from all these people who’ve dared to call themselves my friends. If you’re so disappointed in me, Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch, you know where the door is.’

‘Lisbette...’ 

‘I’m not interested in talking about it. Either you stay or you go, but you keep your opinions to yourself, and that includes your judgmental looks that I feel boring into the back of my neck.’ 

Well, that told him. Emmrich feels his moustache twitch in even greater disapproval. 

That night as he lies in bed, he goes over the conversation with Lisbette again. Just what happened to Lisbette when she was asked to temporarily depart the Mourn Watch? What council was she talking about? 

He gets out of bed and writes a letter to Myrna. 

Myrna’s reply comes back within two days. It includes a detailed description of the events of the civil war that pertain to Lisbette and her group of fellow mages. After the unrest had been resolved, Lisbette was judged in front of dozens of noble Nevarrans, not just the Mourn Watch, who were angry about the civil war and looking for someone to blame. There was not one word of acknowledgment, let alone gratitude, for the lives she had saved by intervening. The judgment was entirely focused on the fact that she had acted without anyone’s approval or permission. Lisbette did not speak up in her own defence, and no one from the Mourn Watch spoke for her either. 

Emmrich reads the letter through again and sighs. The Nevarran council sounded excessive, even cruel. He’d imagined that it had been gently suggested to Lisbette by the Mourn Watch that she leave until things settled down, and it had been a private, internal matter, but how wrong he was. 

Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER THREE

[thornescratch]

This is really fucking funny.

[starmapz]

(more) husband!sukuna modern/non-curse au sfw & nsfw headcanons. nsfw below the cut.

❦ cw ; mdni. 18+ only. f!reader. fluff. smut. oral (f! receiving). manhandling. doggy. toys (vibrator). bondage. degradation. fingering. rough sex. based loosely on my biker ryomen sukuna x biker female reader oneshot but can be read separately.

masterlist || more husband!sukuna hcs || husband!sukuna smut oneshot

husband!sukuna who gradually grows more docile as you get older together, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t that same man who gets himself into trouble every once in a while. you still find yourself scolding him as you wrap his knuckles after a fight, sighing when he attempts to flirt his way through your obvious frustration with him. unfortunately for you, he thinks it’s hot when you scold him.

husband!sukuna who complains when you take him to concerts, but he’ll still lift you onto his shoulders to help you see over the crowd. if you bring him to a heavier genre of show, you might even catch a glimpse of a song he heard at the concert in his workout playlist.

husband!sukuna has a bad habit of spacing out. though it can be frustrating when he doesn't listen (and he does try his best, he’s actually pretty good at it), you have to give him a break because the reason he spaces out is usually because he’s admiring you.

husband!sukuna who can’t handle fighting with you. he’ll storm off and cool down but he won’t let you go to sleep angry. he’s aware he can be… difficult, to put it lightly, and regardless of how angry he is, he won’t let his own inability to communicate ruin the best thing to happen to him, his relationship with you.

husband!sukuna acts all high and mighty both around you and others but he would fall apart without you. if you go away for a work trip, expect near constant texts. of course, sukuna doesn’t do affectionate words, he won’t tell you he misses you, but you know. he’ll text you about the dumbest things just to have an excuse to text you. he’ll ask where the salt is, as though he doesn’t know and you’ll wait until you get back to tease him because you need to see his face when you do.

husband!sukuna loves to dish out constant teasing, but he hates when you tease him back. if you give him a hard time for his clingy texts, he’ll storm out of the room with a red face and avoid you until his blushing subsides. of course, he’s not really mad and you know that, he’s just embarrassed.

husband!sukuna knows you love to pester him with stupid questions and poke and prod at him for attention when he’s busy. he’ll hiss and growl and grumble through each and every irritating action, he’ll shove you away with a hand on your face and flick your forehead, but he never truly gets bothered by it. he knows your little irritating acts are done out of love.

husband!sukuna who, on very rare occasions, puts in the extra effort to be truly loving and dote on you. it usually coincides with a birthday or anniversary but he’ll get particularly soft and gentle, hands on your hips, peppering sweet kisses all over your face. he knows he isn’t the easiest man to love and makes that extra effort to show his love for you during these events.

husband!sukuna doesn’t get jealous. at least, that’s what he tells you, but you’d be a fool not to notice the way he gets possessive and quiet when others openly flirt with you in front of him. you can only imagine the glare they’re getting from the hulking man behind you.

husband!sukuna is an absolute menace when it comes to having his hands on you. at this point you aren’t even sure he’s doing it on purpose, his hands drift to inappropriate places no matter the setting. while he loves your hips and waist, he seems to mindlessly palm your ass, even right in front of your co-workers.

husband!sukuna despises chaste kisses. it’s all or nothing with this man, he will shove his tongue down your throat in front of all of your friends and there is absolutely nothing that can be done about it, lest you want him to be grumpy the rest of the night.

husband!sukuna who absolutely adores leaving hickeys and love bites on your skin. he doesn’t care that you have work, he adores the way they look on you and even more so he absolutely goes crazy for the way your face twists in pleasure when he marks your skin with them.

husband!sukuna can’t get enough of the sight of you in one of his muscle shirts. the way the arm holes give him a view of the swell of your breasts and your perky nipples show through the thin fabric? he’s practically drooling at the sight.

husband!sukuna is an absolute freak in the sheets and he revels in trying new things. if you suggest toys, he’s all over it. he’ll only buy the absolute best for his sweet wife though, anything less and he’s not interested.

husband!sukuna doesn’t beg. ever. he may have been practically groveling at your feet in hopes you would let him have control over a remote control vibrator in your panties in public but he absolutely refuses to let you say he begged for it. he claims he was just a bit pushier than usual when he asked. (he begged. he begged so much.)

husband!sukuna will talk you through your orgasm each and every time, spewing the dirtiest and nastiest things until he sees you’re close, then his words grow softer, telling you that you take him so well and practically purring that you’re a good girl.

husband!sukuna can’t get enough of your ass. he loves to fuck you from behind and palm your ass and he loves when you sit on his face. don’t kid yourself if you think he’s letting you have control though, he’ll still throw you around even when you’re on top of him.

husband!sukuna who loves to watch you suck on his fingers. he adores using his left middle and ring finger and watching you take his long fingers right up to his tattooed wedding band. it’s for the same reason that this man got really good at fingering you with his left hand.

husband!sukuna loves the nights where you let him tie you up. he adores the look of the expensive red ropes he bought just for you restraining you beneath him while that stupidly attractive tongue piercing slides through your folds. he lives to hear your whimpers and moans.

husband!sukuna who doesn’t let you out of his sight after sex. he won’t let you lift a finger. he’ll make a hot cup of tea to your liking to soothe your throat and run you a bath complete with a bath bomb and he’ll even massage your muscles, but under no circumstances will you be walking anywhere in his care.

masterlist || biker!sukuna oneshot || more husband!sukuna hcs || husband!sukuna smut oneshot

❦ a/n ; this man is still living rent-free in my head. wanted to get a lil something out while on vacation! enjoy ♡

[saetoru]

imagine rich boy gojo finding out your name for him in his phone is just “satoru” or something 💀 and then from the side geto is like “mine’s got an emoji!”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NO HEART — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

rich boy! gojo, college au, fluff, established relationships, dramatic gojo which is consistent in every version of him no matter the au

studying with gojo satoru is the worst idea you could ever allow to happen—and yet, every time he asks, you let it happen.

“baby, aren’t you getting my texts?” gojo pouts. it earns him an unimpressed glare from you as you look up from your textbook, a glare that makes him wilt while geto snickers from the corner.

“satoru, if you don’t stop bothering me while we’re supposed to be studying, so help me—”

“but it’s funny, look,” he whines. and before you can stop him, he picks up the untouched phone beside you, tapping the screen to unlock it. except, he doesn’t make it that far.

suddenly the world stills. it stops spinning on its axis. and suddenly, gojo satoru’s face is the dictionary definition of devastation.

“satoru, what’s wrong,” you furrow your brows.

“satoru. satoru? satoru?” he repeats, each time in more disbelief than the last.

“that’s….your name, yes?” you raise a brow. and then realization strikes your features—or so he thinks. he’s soon to find out he’s mistaken. “oh, sorry,” you snort, “toru, is that better? toru, get to studying—”

“my name in your phone is just satoru?” he asks, cutting you off like you’ve genuinely wounded him—the betrayal on his face and the shock in his voice are all too real.

you blink for a moment before you realize the source of his tantrum seems to be the contact name you have for him in your phone. only gojo satoru would find a way to make a big deal out of his own name, you think.

“well, yeah,” you shrug, “it’s your name. plus i had it set when i first got your number from that project. i hated you back then.”

“you called me gojo back then,” he squints accusingly.

“yeah that’s because it was gojo satoru at first,” you nod. from the side, you hear geto snicker again about the full government name to himself—which earns him a pillow thrown at his direction by gojo. “i deleted the gojo part when we started dating,” you add.

“oh so you can delete my surname once we started dating but you couldn’t even add a heart?” he asks, jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed in that dramatic way he does. it’s a bit cute, the way he’s worked up over something so small—but it’s also entirely theatric, making you roll your eyes.

“would a heart make you feel better, satoru?” you purse your lips.

“no! not if you don’t add it because you want to,” he huffs, “you might as well just say you don’t love me!”

“satoru,” you sigh in exasperation. maybe if you didn’t have physics 1302 problems to work through—a whole six of them due before midnight, in fact—you would humor him in his elaborately dramatized attempt at getting your attention. but you have classes to pass and gpa’s to maintain, so you purse your lips instead. “it’s just a contact name. what’s mine?”

“it’s baby <3. with a heart. see?” sure enough, when his phone is turned to face you, it’s baby <3. with a heart.

“i have an emoji in my contact,” geto adds from the side, ever the instigator, “maybe it’s because i’m cuter—”

“you gave suguru’s an emoji?” he asks in distress, staring at you like you’ve told him you’ve cheated. you think you might hurt his feelings less if you did, with the way his lips are curled in a genuine frown.

“suguru set his own contact,” you defend, shooting the nuisance in the corner a sharp glare. geto only offers you a sly wink in return. “i didn’t realize you cared that much about contact names,” you shrug, “i can change it—”

“no need,” gojo huffs, holding up a hand to silence you as he turns away and sticks his nose in the air in defiance. “i’ll just change yours to your full government name. see how you like it.”

“satoru—”

“and you’re not getting a heart either,” he glares, deleting the <3 slowly just for show, making eye contact with you so you know the severity of your actions.

you roll your eyes, snatching your phone back as you shake your head. “if i make your contact baby <3 with a heart because you’re my baby, will that cheer you up,” you sigh.

he ponders it for a moment, as if debating the offer. and then his arms cross in defiance once more. “no. make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss emoji.”

“gross,” geto twists his face in disgust.

gojo turns to him, face blank and serious as he shoots, “single people should not speak when it’s not their turn,” before turning back to you. “i’ll consider forgiving you if you make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss.”

“okay,” you sigh, “baby boy it is.”

“with a kiss!” he glares.

“with a kiss,” you assure, rolling your eyes.

“can i also get a kiss?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and bright and earnest enough to warm your heart.

you smile, chuckling at the way he looks so cute, at the way he melts your heart and makes you forget you have physics homework for a moment—but only for a moment because then you mumble, “no. now do your homework.”

PLS THIS PROMPT KILLED ME

[suiana]

✎ yandere! mean boy . . .

✎ yandere! mean boy who's one of the most popular guys in the entire university. he's hot, smart, rich... he was perfect! ...but of course, he had a bad side to him as well. a side that you knew too well but others didn't. have i mentioned that he's only mean to you?

✎ yandere! mean boy who makes your university life as hard as he can. from minor inconveniences like bumping into you, to trying to ruin your reputation by gossiping about you to his friends. you're starting to wonder if he likes you? i mean, why else would he do this? you're not even in the same major! spoiler alert, he does like you. wow, who knew 🤯 ps, his friends are annoyed whenever he brings you up because once he starts talking about you he can't stop 💀

✎ yandere! mean boy who is very obviously in love with you. yeah, sure he might try to ruin your life but... he also spoils you! i mean, don't you see those gifts he left in your room? the new outfits in your closet? or the way your grades suddenly rose? that's all him! so... you should fall for him too now, right? boy is delusional 🔥🔥

✎ yandere! mean boy who's completely obsessed with you. unfortunately, poor fella doesn't know how to process his feelings and only shows disdain to you openly. if only you knew of the way his heart quickens every time you glance at him, or the way he jerks off to you to the numerous pictures he secretly took which are plastered on the walls of his mansion... he's such an idiot! when all he wants to do is worship you, he insults you instead :( not to worry... he'll be openly worshipping you soon enough. soon...

"watch your step."

he hisses as he glares at you. you only roll your eyes, continuing on your way to your lecture hall as you text your friend. seriously, this day was already bad and he just had to be here to worsen it? what luck you had.

you quicken your pace, trying to get to your location faster which only resulted in the university's mean boy (correction, he's only mean to you, so he's a secret mean boy) scowling and stomping right over to you.

"i said, watch your step!"

he yells out, grabbing your shoulder roughly as he turns around to face you. his hands shake slightly, still gripping onto your shoulder as his cheeks brun red. was it from anger or embarrassment? you'd never know. all he ever shows you is his disdain after all.

you stare at him with an irritated expression, eyeing him up and down before apologizing half-heartedly.

"sorry."

you then try shrugging his hand off you, clearly more annoyed than worried as the male continues to stare at you with an unreadable expression. cheeks flushed as he roughly takes his hand away before stomping off like an angry child. you merely shake your head at his actions. what a drama king he was.

jeez, he really is weird. always targeting you, and you only... what did you even do to get on his nerves? all you wanted was a peaceful university life! with good grades and a nice set of friends, and maybe even a lover if you were lucky! but no, he just had to have it out for you every. single. day.

and yet, he always seems to have a red flush on his cheeks whenever he does so. and the multiple times you've passed his friend group he always seems to be talking about you. is he bipolar? does he secretly like you? is he a tsundere?

you grumble slightly as you quickly rush off to your lecture. damn, he made you late. what an annoying guy.

meanwhile, your secret mean boy was struggling to contain his screams as he hid behind a wall after stomping off. with laboured breaths, flushed cheeks and hearts for pupils, he giggled like a patient from the mental hospital.

ah..! you touched him! touched him! if he imagines hard enough, he can pretend you're gently carressing him! that you're looking at him just like he looks at you!

he shakily stares at the hand you swatted away, smile errily wide as soft giggles escape him. ah, you're so cute when you look at him like that... when you look at him in irritation... would you look like that when he exposes the fact that he loves you? or when you're married and he accidentally burns his food? would you push him away and quickly cook up another meal?

he giggles like a high school girl in love, breathing growing increasingly erratic as he places both his hands over his chest.

ah...

he wants to touch you again.

he wants to see more of your expressions.

he wants you.

and he will have you.

whether you like it or not.

[solxamber]

Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

and they were roommates!!!!

You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.

Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.

The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.

“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”

The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”

You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.

“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”

Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”

“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”

Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”

The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”

There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.

Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”

You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.

You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?

Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?

“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”

You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.

It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.

You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.

As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.

Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.

You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.

Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—

SMACK.

The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.

“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.

Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”

You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”

“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”

You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”

Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.

“...Okay, fair.”

You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.

Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.

You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.

You’re now 30 minutes late to class.

Totally worth it.

You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.

At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.

Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?

“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”

Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.

Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”

You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.

You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”

Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“...No. No, you don’t.”

Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.

“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”

Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”

You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”

You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.

With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.

You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.

One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?

“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.

Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.

“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.

He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.

You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”

The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.

You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.

Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.

You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”

Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.

You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.

Wait.

Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?

You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.

You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.

And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?

“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.

You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.

Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.

But you have a plan. A master plan.

Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.

So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”

Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.

The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.

Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.

“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.

Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”

“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”

Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”

“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”

By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”

“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”

He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”

You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”

Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”

“Deal,” you grin.

As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.

You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.

But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.

You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.

You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.

You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.

There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”

Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.

He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.

Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.

“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”

You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.

Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.

You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”

Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.

You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.

You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.

“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.

And you do.

The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.

“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.

You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”

Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”

“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”

You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.

Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.

As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.

It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.

If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.

You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.

Oh. Oh no.

You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.

So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."

Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.

“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”

You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”

Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.

You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”

Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.

Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”

You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.

“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”

You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.

Masterlist

guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr

[pucksandpower]

Come Undone

Day 26 → Cum Marking 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and somnophilia

Kinktober Masterlist

Charles can’t remember the last time he’s been this agitated. The tension has been building for days, coiling around his chest like a tight wire, and it all seems to be connected to one thing — or rather, one person.

You.

He stands in the Ferrari garage, arms crossed, leaning against a wall with his eyes trained on you. You're talking with Lewis again. That familiar laugh escapes your lips, the one Charles loves, but now it grates against his nerves.

Lewis is close, too close, and Charles can’t help but notice the way Lewis’ hand brushes your arm as he talks. It’s subtle, probably innocent, but it still sends a spark of irritation through him.

“Everything alright?” Joris asks, coming to stand beside him. His tone is casual, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes.

Charles doesn’t answer immediately, jaw tight as he watches you laugh again at something Lewis says. “Yeah,” he replies, but his voice is strained, even to his own ears.

Joris raises an eyebrow, following his gaze. “You sure about that? You’ve been glaring at Lewis like he’s the second coming of 14-year-old Max.”

Charles lets out a huff of air, half-laugh, half-sigh. “I’m fine,” he insists, though he can’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

Joris just smirks, nudging him with his shoulder. “You know, if you stare any harder, you might just set him on fire.”

Charles finally looks at Joris, who is grinning like he’s thoroughly entertained by this. “I’m not-” he starts, but Joris cuts him off.

“You’re not what? Jealous? Possessive? Both?” Joris teases, but there’s no malice in it.

Charles sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just … he’s always around her.”

“Maybe because she’s your girlfriend and he’s trying to be friendly?” Joris suggests, but Charles shakes his head.

“There’s something about the way he looks at her. It’s not just friendly.”

Joris considers this, then shrugs. “Maybe. But you know, she’s with you. Not him. And she doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, does she?”

Charles glances back at you, still deep in conversation with Lewis, completely unaware of the turmoil in his mind. “No,” he admits reluctantly. “She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you’re overthinking it.” Joris claps a hand on his shoulder. “But if it’s bothering you this much, maybe you should talk to her.”

Charles frowns. “And say what? ‘Hey, I think my new teammate is flirting with you, can you please stop talking to him?’ That sounds ridiculous.”

Joris laughs. “It does when you say it like that. Just … I don’t know, make sure she knows how you feel about her. So there’s no room for doubt.”

Charles nods, but his eyes drift back to you. The way Lewis leans in slightly as he talks, the easy smile on his face … it’s driving him crazy. Joris is right — you’re with him, not Lewis, but that doesn’t stop the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

“Thanks,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Anytime,” Joris replies, patting his shoulder before walking away, leaving Charles to stew in his thoughts.

He knows he should focus on the race tomorrow, but all he can think about is how Lewis seems to find every excuse to be near you. At first, he thought he was imagining it, reading too much into friendly interactions. But as the days went on, it became harder to ignore. The casual touches, the lingering looks, the way Lewis always seems to find you when Charles isn’t around … it’s all too much.

Charles doesn’t want to be that boyfriend — the one who’s insecure, who reads into things that aren’t there — but every instinct he has is screaming that Lewis is interested in you. And the worst part? You don’t even seem to notice.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. “Charles?”

He blinks, realizing you’re standing in front of him now, a concerned look on your face. Lewis is nowhere to be seen, and Charles feels a small surge of relief at that.

“Yeah?” He replies, trying to shake off the tension.

“You okay?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study his face. “You seem … off.”

He forces a smile, but it feels tight. “I’m fine.”

You don’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird for the past few days.”

He hesitates, wondering how much to tell you. Part of him wants to just brush it off, to avoid any potential conflict, but another part of him — the part that’s been simmering with jealousy and frustration — wants to tell you everything. Maybe Joris is right; maybe it’s better to be honest with you, to clear the air before this eats him alive.

“I’ve just … I’ve noticed how much time you’ve been spending with Lewis,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

You blink, clearly surprised by the direction the conversation has taken. “Lewis? What do you mean?”

Charles rubs a hand over his face, feeling a little foolish now that he’s actually saying it out loud. “It’s just … he’s always around you, and it feels like he’s flirting with you. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, then you frown. “Lewis isn’t flirting with me. He’s just being friendly.”

“Maybe,” Charles concedes, “but it doesn’t feel that way to me. He’s always touching you, always finding excuses to talk to you …”

You stare at him for a moment, then shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re being ridiculous. Lewis is just … Lewis. He’s like that with everyone.”

Charles feels a flicker of irritation at how easily you dismiss his concerns. “Not like this,” he insists. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “And how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants something more,” Charles says, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you laugh — a short, incredulous sound. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Charles snaps, more frustrated by your reaction than anything else. “I know what I’m seeing, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of confusion and something else — hurt, maybe? “Charles, I’m with you. I love you. Why would you think for a second that I would be interested in someone else?”

“It’s not that,” he says quickly, regretting his tone. “It’s not about you. It’s about him. I just … I don’t trust his intentions.”

You stare at him, and he can see the gears turning in your mind. “So you’re saying you don’t trust me?”

“No,” he replies, but the word comes out too quickly, too defensive. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

You sigh again, rubbing your temples. “Charles, I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t control how other people act. And if Lewis really is flirting with me — which I don’t think he is — then he’s wasting his time because I’m with you. You’re the only one I want.”

He wants to believe you, and deep down, he does. But the jealousy is still there, a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate. “I just … I don’t like it,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record.

You step closer to him, reaching out to take his hand. “Then talk to me about it, okay? Don’t keep it bottled up until you’re this upset. We can work through it together.”

Charles squeezes your hand, grateful for the gesture even if the tension hasn’t fully left him. “I will. I promise.”

You smile softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good. Now, can we stop worrying about Lewis and focus on the race tomorrow?”

He nods, but his mind is already racing, thinking about what he can do to make sure Lewis knows you’re off-limits. It’s not enough to just talk to you about it, he needs to take action, to show both you and Lewis that you’re his and his alone.

After the race, he tells himself. After the race, he’ll do something to make it clear to everyone — including Lewis — that you belong to him.

And this time, he won’t hold back.

***

The hotel suite is quiet, save for the soft rustling of the pages as you flip through your book. Charles can hear it from where he stands near the window, staring out into the darkened city. The lights outside blur together, a sea of neon and streetlights that fail to hold his attention. All he can think about is you — lying in bed, lost in whatever story you're reading, completely unaware of the turmoil still swirling in his mind.

He turns away from the window, glancing over at you. The lamp on your nightstand casts a warm glow, illuminating the relaxed curve of your body under the sheets. Your face is serene, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you read, and Charles feels a wave of affection that is quickly followed by a surge of something more primal, something that has been simmering under the surface all day.

He walks over to the dresser, where the hotel has placed a few empty glasses, neat and pristine in a row. He picks one up, the cool glass smooth against his fingertips, and his mind is already racing with thoughts of what he’s about to do. It feels a little crazy, maybe even a little wrong, but the idea has taken root, and he knows he won’t be able to shake it.

You don’t notice when he slips into the bathroom, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The light is harsh, and it jolts him slightly, making him take a deep breath as he stares at himself in the mirror. His reflection looks back at him, eyes dark with the need he’s been trying to suppress all day.

He sets the glass on the counter, steadying himself with another deep breath. His thoughts are consumed by you — by the way you laughed with Lewis, by how oblivious you seemed to the effect it had on him, by how badly he wants to remind you that you’re his.

Slowly, he reaches down, undoing the button on his pants. His hands are shaking slightly as he lowers them, along with his boxers, the cool air of the bathroom hitting his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he wraps his hand around himself.

It doesn’t take much to get him going. He’s been half-hard all day, the tension of jealousy and desire building up inside him. His mind drifts back to the way you looked at him earlier, the concern in your eyes when you asked if he was okay. He thinks about how soft your skin is under his touch, how you feel when he’s inside you, how you moan his name in the dark.

His strokes are slow at first, deliberate, as he imagines you on the bed, waiting for him, completely unaware of what he’s doing. The thought only heightens his arousal, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan as his hand moves faster. He can picture it so clearly — coming back into the room, seeing you lying there, trusting him completely.

The pressure builds quickly, and he has to brace himself against the counter with his free hand, his breathing ragged as he nears the edge. He forces himself to keep quiet, to not alert you to what he’s doing, but it’s difficult when the pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming.

Finally, with a choked gasp, he spills into the glass, his body trembling as he comes down from the high. He stands there for a moment, catching his breath, before he carefully sets the glass down on the counter. The sight of his release, warm and viscous, in the clear glass sends a thrill through him, a reminder of what he’s about to do.

He cleans himself up quickly, adjusting his clothes and wiping the outside of the glass clean. Then, with one last look in the mirror, he picks up the glass and exits the bathroom.

You’re still in bed when he comes back, your book now closed and resting on your chest as you lie with your eyes shut. You look so peaceful, so relaxed, and he feels a rush of tenderness mixed with the lingering heat of his arousal.

He sets the glass on his nightstand, careful not to draw your attention to it. “You still awake?” He asks softly, moving closer to the bed.

“Mm-hmm,” you murmur, not opening your eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, then sits down on the edge of the bed. “You look tired,” he comments, reaching out to gently stroke your arm. “You should get some rest.”

You smile slightly, eyes still closed. “Just winding down. It’s been a long day.”

He nods, even though you can’t see it, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin. “I was thinking …” he starts, his voice low and careful. “Maybe I could give you a massage? Help you relax.”

You hum in response, a pleased sound that makes his heart skip a beat. “That sounds nice,” you reply, shifting slightly under the covers to give him better access to your back.

Perfect, he thinks. His plan is falling into place.

He reaches for the glass on the nightstand, his movements slow and deliberate so as not to alarm you. You’re still lying with your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s about to do, and the thought of it sends a fresh wave of excitement through him.

“Just relax,” he whispers, leaning over you as he carefully pulls the sheets down to expose your back. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You nod slightly, your trust in him evident, and it only fuels his determination. He dips his fingers into the glass, coating them in the warm cum before setting it back down. His heart races as he leans over you, his hand hovering above your skin for a moment before he finally makes contact.

The feeling of his release on your skin is electric, sending a jolt of arousal through him. He starts at the base of your spine, his fingers gliding smoothly over your skin, spreading the liquid across your back. You sigh softly, completely unaware of what he’s using, just enjoying the sensation of his touch.

He takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate as he works his way up your back, his fingers kneading the tension out of your muscles. The room is filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the occasional murmur of contentment escaping your lips, and it drives him wild.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “How does that feel?” He asks, his voice rough with need.

“Good,” you reply, your voice sleepy and content. “Really good.”

He smiles, a mix of pride and possessiveness swelling in his chest. “Good,” he echoes, his hands still moving over your skin, spreading his mark across every inch of you.

His touch becomes firmer, more insistent, as he moves higher up your back. You shiver slightly under his hands, but still, you don’t open your eyes, completely trusting him. It’s intoxicating, the power he feels in this moment, knowing that he’s marking you as his in a way that no one else ever could.

He dips his fingers back into the glass, gathering more of the cum, and starts working on your shoulders. The thought of his release mingling with the natural scent of your skin is almost too much for him to handle, and he has to take a steadying breath to keep from losing control.

You let out a small moan as his fingers dig into a particularly tight spot, and he can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re mine,” he whispers against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

You don’t respond, and for a moment, he worries that he’s gone too far, that you’ve realized what he’s doing. But then you sigh contentedly, shifting slightly under his hands, and he realizes that you’re still half-asleep, blissfully unaware of what’s really happening.

The realization sends a thrill through him, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor, his hands moving over your skin with purpose. He wants to cover every inch of you, to make sure that there’s no part of you that hasn’t been touched by him, that hasn’t been marked as his.

He’s lost in the sensation, in the feeling of your skin under his hands, in the thought of what he’s doing. The rest of the world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, and he knows that he’s never wanted you more than he does right now.

Finally, when he’s satisfied that he’s covered every inch of your back, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. He’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, and it takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts, to come back to reality.

You’re still lying there, your eyes closed, completely unaware of what he’s done. He feels a rush of possessiveness, a fierce need to protect you, to keep you all to himself. He knows that what he’s done is risky, that it could backfire if you ever found out, but in this moment, he doesn’t care.

You’re his, and now there’s no doubt about it.

He leans down to press another kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls back. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his voice low and rough.

You murmur something in response, too tired to form coherent words, and he smiles, pulling the sheets back up over you. He watches as you settle into the pillows, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and he feels a surge of satisfaction.

He moves to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. You instinctively curl into his side, your head resting on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. The warmth of your body against his is soothing, grounding him after everything that’s happened tonight.

As you nestle closer, you mumble, “Whatever lotion you used feels amazing.”

He swallows hard, his heart racing all over again, but he manages to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You sigh contentedly, already drifting off to sleep, completely unaware of the truth. And as Charles holds you in his arms, he can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight, he’s left a mark on you that only the two of you will ever know.

***

The sun has barely begun to rise, casting a soft, golden light over the Monaco skyline as Charles stands in the kitchen of your shared apartment. The place is quiet, the kind of peaceful that only comes in the early hours of the morning. He’s dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, barefoot on the cool tile floor as he busies himself with breakfast.

There’s a calmness to this routine, a tranquility that he cherishes. It’s just the two of you here, no prying eyes, no tension — just the comfort of home. But even in this serene setting, a part of him is buzzing with anticipation, a subtle undercurrent of the possessiveness that he’s been feeling more and more of lately.

On the counter, among the fresh fruit and yogurt, sits a small glass, nearly identical to the one he used just a few nights ago. It’s filled with the same substance, warm and opaque, waiting for the moment when he can mix it into something that you’ll consume. The thought of it sends a thrill through him, a reminder of the secret he’s been keeping, the private bond he’s been nurturing in ways only he knows.

He’s almost lost in thought when he hears the soft pad of your footsteps approaching from the hallway. You enter the kitchen, still sleepy-eyed and wrapped in the comfort of an oversized sweatshirt, your hair slightly tousled from sleep. There’s something about seeing you like this, so natural and unguarded, that makes his chest tighten with affection — and with that familiar, possessive need.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice still soft with sleep as you come up behind him.

He turns to greet you, a smile already playing on his lips. “Morning, mon amour,” he replies, pulling you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, your head resting against his chest, and he holds you there for a moment, savoring the feeling of you in his arms, so close, so his.

You’re warm against him, the scent of your skin mingling with the fresh coffee he’s brewed, and it’s all he can do to keep from letting his hands wander, to keep from pulling you even closer. But he knows he has a plan to stick to, so he leans down to kiss the top of your head instead, a soft, lingering gesture that makes you hum contentedly.

“I was thinking about making smoothies,” he says, his voice casual as he pulls back just enough to look down at you. “You want one?”

You nod, eyes still half-closed as you lean into him, not fully awake yet. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

He gives you a reassuring squeeze before gently disentangling himself from you, turning back to the counter. “Sit tight. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes.”

You wander over to the kitchen island, pulling up a stool and resting your head on your folded arms, watching him with sleepy eyes. He glances over his shoulder at you as he starts gathering ingredients — the yogurt, the fresh berries, a banana — carefully setting each one on the counter in front of him.

“You sure you’re awake enough for this?” He teases, his tone light, though his mind is already on the next step, on the glass sitting just within reach.

“Barely,” you admit with a small laugh, your eyes closing as you rest your chin on your arms. “But I’ll manage. I could use something refreshing.”

He grins, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reaches for the blender. “This should do the trick, then.” He starts adding the ingredients, layer by layer, taking his time to make sure everything is just right. The kitchen fills with the sound of fruit hitting the blender, the soft clink of the yogurt spoon against the glass, the low hum of the machine as he blends it all together.

And then, with a practiced ease, he reaches for the glass, the one that holds his release, and adds its contents to the mix. The thick liquid disappears into the smoothie, blending seamlessly with the other ingredients, leaving no trace of what he’s done. It’s the perfect secret, hidden in plain sight, and the knowledge of it sends a shiver of excitement through him.

He caps the blender, turning it on once more to make sure everything is thoroughly mixed, and then pours the smoothie into a tall glass. It’s a vibrant, inviting shade of pink from the berries, the kind of drink that promises sweetness and freshness, and he can’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction as he walks it over to you.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the glass in front of you with a smile.

You sit up, blinking your eyes open as you reach for the glass. “Thank you,” you say, your voice still soft with sleep, but there’s a warmth in your tone that makes his heart swell.

He watches, his breath catching slightly, as you take a sip. Your lips wrap around the straw, and for a moment, he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you drinking, the subtle curve of your mouth, the way your throat moves as you swallow. It’s such a simple thing, but knowing what’s in that glass, what you’re consuming, makes it feel like so much more.

“Mmm,” you murmur after a moment, pulling back with a pleased smile. “This is really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice a touch huskier than he intended.

You nod, taking another sip, completely unaware of the deeper meaning behind the drink. “Yeah, really good. You always make the best smoothies.”

His heart swells with pride, even as the possessiveness lingers, wrapping itself around his thoughts like a vice. You’re his, in every way that matters, and this smoothie is just another reminder of that fact — a reminder that only he knows about.

“Glad you like it,” he says, leaning against the counter as he watches you take another drink. “I put a little extra care into this one.”

You laugh softly, setting the glass down as you meet his gaze. “I can tell.”

For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a quiet connection passing between you that feels almost electric. There’s a warmth in your eyes, a softness that makes him want to reach out and pull you into his arms again, to hold you close and never let go.

But instead, he pushes off the counter, walking back over to where you’re sitting. He places a hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, deliberate motion that makes your breath hitch just a little.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

You shake your head, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “No, not really. Just thought I’d relax, maybe read a bit.”

He nods, his hand sliding down your arm to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Good. You deserve to relax.” He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering against your skin.

You smile, a soft, contented smile that makes his chest tighten with emotion. “What about you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got some training later, but nothing too crazy,” he replies, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I was thinking we could spend some time together before that, though. Just the two of us.”

You nod, your smile widening as you squeeze his hand. “I’d like that.”

He feels a warmth spread through him, a deep, satisfying contentment that comes from knowing you’re his, that you’re here with him, that you trust him completely. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever, to keep close to his heart.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Finish your smoothie,” he says, his tone gentle but insistent. “I want you to be well-fed before we start our day.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you pick up the glass again. “Okay, okay,” you say, taking another sip. “Bossy.”

He grins, his heart swelling with affection as he watches you drink, knowing that with every sip, you’re taking in a part of him, a part that only he can give you.

And as he watches you move around the apartment, smiling and laughing, completely unaware of the deeper connection you now share, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, a certainty that no one else could ever have what you have with him.

You’re his, in every way that matters. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

***

The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden light across the Monaco apartment, bathing everything in a soft glow. The air is filled with the distant hum of the city below, but inside, all is calm, quiet — a perfect oasis for the two of you.

Charles moves around the spacious bathroom with purpose, the sound of running water filling the air as he prepares a bath for you. It’s been a long few weeks, with races and travel and the endless demands of his career, but now, finally, there’s a moment to breathe, to relax. And Charles is determined to make sure you do exactly that.

He watches the water fill the tub, swirling with bubbles from the bath salts he added, filling the room with the soothing scent of eucalyptus. But even as he sets the scene for a moment of peace, his mind is elsewhere, focused on the next step of his plan, the one that’s been playing out in quiet, secret moments ever since that night in the hotel.

He glances at the door to the bathroom, half-closed, knowing you’re just in the other room, curled up on the bed with a book, completely unaware of what he’s about to do. His heart beats a little faster at the thought, that same possessive thrill coursing through him, mixing with the tenderness he feels every time he looks at you.

The water’s almost ready now, the tub nearly full, and he knows it’s time. With a practiced ease, he reaches for the waistband of his shorts, slipping them off and setting them aside. He’s already half-hard, the anticipation of what he’s about to do sending a rush of heat through his body.

He moves to the edge of the tub, positioning himself just right, and with a deep breath, he lets his hand drift lower, closing around his length. The sensation is immediate, a familiar pleasure that he’s come to associate with these moments, these secret acts of intimacy that only he knows about.

His thoughts are filled with you, with the image of you sinking into the bath, the water wrapping around your body, warm and soothing. He strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on the water, imagining how it will mix with his release, how it will touch every inch of your skin, marking you as his in a way that no one else will ever know.

It doesn’t take long before he’s spilling into the water, his cum clouding the surface, disappearing into the bubbles. The sight of it sends a shiver of satisfaction through him, a sense of completion that’s as much emotional as it is physical.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, to let the last remnants of pleasure fade before he straightens, pulling his shorts back on. The water is ready now, the bath perfect, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips as he turns to leave the bathroom, ready to call you in.

“Mon cœur,” he calls softly, stepping out into the bedroom. “Your bath is ready.”

You look up from your book, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him. There’s a softness in your expression, a trust that makes his heart ache with affection, and he crosses the room to you, holding out a hand to help you up.

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thank you,” you say, your voice warm and full of gratitude as you follow him back into the bathroom. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He leads you to the tub, the water steaming gently, the scent of eucalyptus wrapping around you both. “Just relax,” he murmurs, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your eyes closing as he helps you undress, his touch gentle, reverent. There’s something almost ritualistic about the way he moves, his hands sliding over your skin as he removes each piece of clothing, until you’re standing naked before him, your body bathed in the soft light of the setting sun.

He guides you to the edge of the tub, helping you step in, and you sink into the water with a contented sigh, the warmth enveloping you, easing the tension from your muscles. Charles watches you, his gaze fixed on you as you settle back against the tub, your eyes closing in bliss.

“How’s the water?” He asks, his voice low, intimate.

“It’s perfect,” you murmur, your lips curving into a soft smile as you lean your head back. “So warm … feels amazing.”

He smiles, a wave of satisfaction washing over him at your words. “Good,” he says, kneeling beside the tub, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “You deserve to be pampered.”

You open your eyes, looking up at him with a gaze so full of trust, so full of love, that it nearly takes his breath away. “I’m lucky to have you,” you say softly, your hand reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a tender caress.

His heart swells at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. “I’m the lucky one,” he replies, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to memorize the feel of you, the scent of you.

He pulls back slightly, his hand moving to the edge of the tub where a bottle of shampoo waits, carefully placed within reach. “Let me wash your hair,” he offers, his voice gentle, almost a whisper.

You nod, your eyes closing again as you relax back into the water. “That sounds nice,” you say, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

He reaches for the shampoo, pouring some into his palm, the familiar scent filling the air. But as he moves to work it into your hair, he pauses, his eyes flicking to the small cup he’d placed on the floor behind him earlier, hidden just out of sight.

With a quick glance at you to make sure your eyes are still closed, he reaches back, his fingers closing around the cup. He moves carefully, mixing its contents with the shampoo in his hand, watching as the two substances blend together, the color and texture indistinguishable from the original.

His heart beats a little faster as he begins to work the mixture into your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp with a practiced ease. The scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam rising from the water, filling the room with a heady aroma that makes everything feel even more intimate, more connected.

You sigh softly as he works, the tension melting from your body with each gentle stroke of his fingers. “That feels amazing,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions — love, possessiveness, satisfaction. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice low, soothing. “I want you to feel good, to feel relaxed.”

You hum in response, a sound that’s almost a purr, and he can’t help the way his chest tightens at the sound, at the sight of you so vulnerable, so trusting under his care.

As he continues to wash your hair, his fingers moving through the strands with gentle precision, he feels that same familiar thrill, the knowledge that he’s marking you in a way only he knows about. It’s a secret bond, a connection that runs deeper than words, deeper than anything else.

He finishes rinsing the shampoo from your hair, his hands cradling your head as he pours the water over you, careful to keep it from getting in your eyes. You let out another contented sigh, your body sinking deeper into the water, your skin glowing in the soft light.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes still closed, a smile playing on your lips. “You always take such good care of me.”

His heart skips a beat at your words, a rush of warmth flooding his chest. “I’ll always take care of you,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

You reach up, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that feels as natural as breathing. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that takes his breath away.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender caress. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice steady, but there’s an intensity in his gaze, a fierceness that speaks to the depth of his feelings, to the possessiveness that’s only grown stronger over time.

As you relax back into the water, your eyes drifting closed once more, Charles watches you, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

And as he sits there beside you, his hand still holding yours, he can’t help but feel a sense of completion, a certainty that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, in ways that no one else could ever understand.

***

The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the rhythmic hum of the city outside. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom, creating long shadows that stretch across the floor. The air is cool, a gentle breeze slipping through the cracked window, stirring the fabric of the curtains ever so slightly.

Charles lies beside you, his body still as he watches you sleep. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft flutter of your eyelashes as you dream, the way your lips part slightly with each breath — it’s all mesmerizing to him, a sight he never tires of. There’s a peace in this moment, in the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed with you, knowing you’re safe, warm, comfortable, that you trust him completely.

But there’s also something else — a restlessness, a need that’s been simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing day. He’s been patient, careful, methodical in the way he’s been marking you as his, but tonight, that need has reached a peak, a point where he can’t ignore it any longer.

His gaze drifts down to your lips, the soft curve of them, the way they part slightly with each exhale. An idea takes root in his mind, one that’s as thrilling as it is intimate, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already moving, slipping out from under the covers with a practiced ease that keeps the bed from shifting too much.

The room is still cool as he stands, his bare feet silent on the hardwood floor as he walks to the foot of the bed. He pauses there for a moment, his heart beating a little faster as he considers what he’s about to do. There’s a thrill in the secrecy of it, in the knowledge that you have no idea what’s coming, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

With a quiet breath, he moves to the other side of the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his shorts. He slips them off, the fabric pooling at his feet, leaving him bare in the dim light of the room. His body responds immediately, the anticipation sending a rush of heat through him, his desire hardening almost instantly.

He looks down at you, your face still peaceful, unaware, and he knows he has to be careful, gentle, if this is going to work. He lowers himself onto the bed, positioning himself over you with practiced care, his body hovering just above yours. He leans in close, his breath warm against your skin as he brings himself closer to your lips.

Your eyelashes flutter, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you start to stir, but before you can fully wake, he moves, pressing the tip of his length against your mouth, the contact so light, so delicate, it’s almost like a dream.

Your lips part instinctively, a reflexive action born of years of being together, of knowing each other so intimately. Charles’ breath hitches as he feels the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips as they brush against him. He’s careful not to move too quickly, not to startle you awake, but even this small touch sends a shiver of pleasure through him.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice low, soothing. “Just relax. It’s okay.”

You murmur something unintelligible, your head shifting slightly on the pillow, but you don’t wake. Your body is still relaxed, still trusting, and that trust sends a wave of possessive satisfaction through him, a reminder that you’re his in every way that matters.

He presses forward slightly, just enough to let the tip of himself slip between your lips, careful to keep his movements slow, deliberate. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow slightly in your sleep, the way your lips instinctively close around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes his breath catch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just like that.”

He moves carefully, slowly, guiding more of himself into your mouth, each inch sending a thrill of pleasure through him. The sensation is almost too much, the combination of your warmth, your softness, and the knowledge that you have no idea what’s happening, that you’re completely at his mercy in this moment.

But he’s not doing this just for his pleasure. There’s a purpose to this, a plan that’s been forming in his mind ever since he started marking you, ever since he realized how much he needed you to be his in every way. He wants you to associate this with feeling good, to connect the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction, even if you don’t fully understand why.

His free hand moves to your thigh, gently caressing the soft skin there, his touch light, reassuring. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers, his voice soothing, even as his heart races with the intensity of the moment.

You stir again, your lips tightening slightly around him as your body responds to his touch. He can feel the tension in your muscles, the way your breathing changes as you start to wake, but he doesn’t stop. He’s careful, precise, his movements designed to keep you on the edge of consciousness, just aware enough to feel the pleasure, but not enough to fully wake.

“Just let go,” he murmurs, his hand trailing up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing quickens, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body responds to him, even in sleep. He can feel the way your muscles tense, the way your hips shift slightly, as if seeking more contact, more pleasure.

He keeps his movements slow, controlled, his own pleasure building with each careful thrust, each soft sound that escapes your lips. He watches your face, the way your brows furrow, the way your lips part around him, and he knows he’s close, so close to the edge.

But he doesn’t want to finish yet, not until he’s certain you’ve felt it too, that you’ve connected the taste of him with pleasure, with satisfaction. He moves his hand higher, his fingers brushing against the warmth between your legs, finding you already wet, already ready for him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl.”

He strokes you gently, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, his touch just enough to push you closer to the edge, but not enough to wake you fully. He watches as your breathing quickens, your body responding to his touch, to the combination of sensations he’s giving you.

It doesn’t take long before he feels you start to tense, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming more erratic. He can see the pleasure building in you, can feel the way your body is reacting, and it’s almost too much for him to handle, the intensity of it sending him right to the brink.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you, as he feels you. “Just let go, mon cœur. I’ve got you.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last stroke, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The sight of you, the feel of you, sends him over the edge too, his own release spilling into your mouth, the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity.

He stays there for a moment, his breath ragged, his heart racing, as he watches you slowly relax, your body sinking back into the bed, your breathing evening out as you slip back into a deeper sleep. He’s careful as he pulls away, as he adjusts the covers around you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re warm.

He watches you for a moment longer, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and possessiveness, satisfaction and desire. You’re his, in every way that matters, and with every secret act, every hidden gesture, he’s reminded of that fact.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as he whispers, “Je t’aime,” into the darkness.

And then he slips back under the covers, his body curling around yours as he holds you close, his heart still racing with the intensity of what just happened, of what he’s just done. But there’s no regret, no second thoughts, only a deep, abiding satisfaction, a certainty that you’re his, in every way that matters.

As he drifts off to sleep, his hand resting possessively on your hip, he knows that he’ll continue to mark you, to claim you, in all the ways that matter, in all the ways that only he can. Because you’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way, forever.

***

The night air is thick with celebration. Monaco is alive with the sounds of revelry — cheers and laughter drifting up from the streets below. It’s late, but the adrenaline from Charles’ latest victory keeps you both buzzing. You’re in your shared apartment, the lights dimmed low, the atmosphere electric with the thrill of his win. Champagne flutes sit abandoned on the table, half-full and forgotten in the wake of more pressing desires.

Charles can’t take his eyes off you. You’re draped in his suit jacket, the oversized fabric slipping off one shoulder, revealing the curve of your collarbone, the delicate line of your neck. There’s a flush to your cheeks, the result of both the champagne and the heady excitement of the night. You’re beautiful, radiant in the aftermath of his success, and he feels a swell of pride, of possessiveness, as he watches you.

The victory tonight was sweet, but what’s even sweeter is knowing you’re his. Completely his. He’s trained you well — his perfect, responsive lover — and tonight, he’s going to show you just how well that training has paid off.

“You’re happy,” he says, his voice low, tinged with satisfaction as he watches you lean back against the sofa, your eyes bright with joy.

“Of course I am,” you reply, your smile wide, genuine. “I’m so proud of you. You were amazing out there.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers itching to touch, to claim. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure your skill had something to do with it.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “But I’m serious. You’re my good luck charm.”

You tilt your head, leaning into his touch, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he replies, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours as he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s slow, deliberate, his mouth moving against yours with practiced ease. He knows exactly how to kiss you, how to make you melt beneath him, and he feels that familiar thrill of satisfaction as you respond, your lips parting to let him in.

But tonight, he’s not just interested in kissing you. Tonight, he has something else in mind, something he’s been working towards for weeks.

He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he murmurs, “I have something for you.”

Your brows furrow in curiosity, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he takes your hand, guiding it down between your bodies, letting you feel the hard evidence of his arousal. Your eyes widen slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you realize what he’s implying, what he’s about to do.

“Charles …” your voice trails off, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty coloring your tone.

“Shh, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice soothing as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Trust me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, positioning you just right. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he guides himself to your lips, the tip of his length brushing against your mouth, warm and inviting.

You hesitate for a moment, a flicker of surprise in your eyes, but then your body remembers the way he’s been with you, the way he’s trained you, conditioned you, and that hesitation melts away. You part your lips slightly, allowing him to slip into your mouth, your breath catching as you taste him, as you feel him.

It’s a taste you’re familiar with by now, a taste that’s been ingrained in your subconscious over weeks of careful, methodical training. But this time, it’s different. This time, you’re awake, fully aware, and the intensity of it hits you like a tidal wave.

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping your lips as he presses deeper, the familiar warmth and saltiness of him filling your senses. There’s something about it, something intoxicating, and you can’t help but respond, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the pleasure that’s become so closely associated with this taste.

Charles watches you, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and satisfaction as he sees your reaction, sees the way your body tenses, the way your breath quickens. You’re perfect, absolutely perfect, and the knowledge that he’s the one who made you this way, who trained you to respond like this, sends a rush of possessive pride through him.

He moves carefully, his hips shifting slightly, allowing him to press deeper into your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, holding you in place. He’s careful not to go too fast, not to overwhelm you, but there’s a thrill in knowing that you’re so close, that he’s about to push you over the edge.

You whimper softly, your lips tightening around him as the pleasure builds, as the taste of him floods your senses. It’s almost too much, the intensity of it, the way your body responds so instinctively, so powerfully to this simple act. You’re teetering on the edge, so close to falling, and you can feel it, the tension building in your core, the overwhelming need for release.

Charles watches you, his own breath ragged as he feels your body’s response, as he sees the way you’re teetering on the brink. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, with desire. “My perfect girl.”

And then, with one final thrust, one last push, he feels you fall over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your climax. The taste of him, the feel of him, it’s all too much, and you can’t hold back, can’t stop the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you gasping, shaking, lost in the sensation.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you ride out the wave, his hand stroking your hair gently, soothingly. He can feel the way your body shudders, the way your breath hitches as you come down from the high, and it fills him with a deep, satisfying sense of accomplishment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice filled with affection as he gently pulls away, his hand still cradling the back of your head, holding you close. “You did so well.”

You’re still breathing heavily, your body trembling slightly as you look up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and wonder. “Charles … I …”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”

You nod slightly, your breath still shaky, but there’s a look of understanding in your eyes, a recognition of what just happened, of how far you’ve come, of how much you’ve changed. And Charles knows, without a doubt, that you’re his, completely his.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as you both settle back onto the sofa, the aftermath of the moment settling over you like a warm, comforting blanket. There’s a sense of peace, of contentment, as you rest your head against his chest, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure.

Charles strokes your hair, his fingers gentle as they move through the soft strands, his heart filled with an overwhelming ove for you. He’s proud of you, of how perfect you are, of how well you’ve responded to his training. And as he holds you, he knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to experience together.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice filled with a quiet, possessive satisfaction. “And you always will be.”

You don’t respond, not with words, but the way you snuggle closer to him, the way your body relaxes in his arms, says it all. You’re his, in every way that matters, and there’s no place you’d rather be.

[ervotica]

could I please get a Cato x soft/quiet gf reader she’s really good at hiding and when he’s training or even talking with friends she sneaks a kiss when he’s not looking and disappears until one day he finally catches her and gives her a real kiss💓

pairing: cato hadley x fem!reader

summary: you hide from cato when he wants a kiss. he always finds you in the end...

hunger games masterlist

Cato has always thought you're charming in a sort of elusive way; you're not a particularly social creature, quick on your feet and opting to hide and duck out of people's line of sight before they've even spotted you. It's endearing, truly, but it tends to frustrate him when all he wants is a kiss from you.

Cato's practicing his knife throwing in an empty field lined with dummies. He brings his elbow up and over his head before letting the blades cut through the air and thwack as they lodge themselves in the targets every time. You watch, entranced - perched just out of his line of sight - as his muscles ripple and flex with his movements; you imagine how they feel under your touch, his warm skin under your hands.

He's just thrown the last one when your cold fingertips graze his waist; his t-shirt has ridden up to expose a pale sliver of skin: ridged abs and a line of blonde hair that disappears beneath his low hung shorts.

He reaches out but you're too quick, ducking under his armpit and snaking up his front for a chaste peck before you're off again.

"Hey!" he yells as you disappear up a nearby tree. "Come back!"

He crosses his arms and plants himself at the roots of the tree, glaring up as you keep climbing. You giggle, traversing the length of a particularly thick branch and wrapping your legs around the width of it in order to hang upside down. Your hair forms what can only be described as a halo as you swing from side to side and grin.

"Cato," you hum, sing-song voice taunting him. He creeps closer and tries his luck in catching you. You're faster, snapping back up to lay horizontally on the branch, too high for even your hulking boyfriend to reach.

"Come here!" he huffs, brow knit as he stares up at you. You only scrunch your nose and raise an eyebrow and his tone changes like the flick of a switch. "Baby, please. C'mere."

You only shake your head and wiggle your fingers at the blonde boy and he seizes the opportunity, locking his fingers with your own as they reach for him enticingly. Your eyes widen and you shriek as he tugs and you come toppling down rather unceremoniously.

Of course he wouldn't let you fall and you land in a heap in his arms, hair static and frazzled as he sets you down.

“Cato!” You scold. “That’s not funny!”

He presses his chest close, his face burying in the juncture of your neck as he kisses and nips at the soft skin there.

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” he murmurs, big hands squeezing the fat of your hips. “You kept hiding from me.”

You pout and push lightly at his chest, forcing him to take a step back.

“Awh,” he coos, pressing a thumb to the plush flesh of your lip before he’s leaning in for a kiss. No chaste pecks or soft, fleeting moments- he’s determined to get a real kiss from you, all tongues and teeth and heaving chests as he steals your breath.

The only sounds to be heard are the whistling of wind and the soft smack of your mouths as he kisses you with fervour. Your hand comes up to his neck, fisting the short hairs at the nape to pull him closer. You feel his smile against your mouth.

“This is all I wanted from you,” he snarks, sarcasm dripping from his tongue as you chase his lips to keep him quiet.

“Shh,” you whisper, eyes fluttering as he bites into your bottom lip and soothes the pain away with his tongue.

He pulls away heavy lidded and breathing hard.

“Caught you.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Prepare For Takeoff

Title: Prepare For Takeoff Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

go to the next part: DON'T LOOK TOO FARI'm Your Man Collection Masterlist

[sunnyrisee]

The Moment I Knew — Lee Know

pairing : idol! lee know x fem! reader

genre : friends to lovers, angst with happy ending, fluff.

summary : in which you fall in love with your best friend, only to be shattered by rumors of him dating someone else. so you try to distance yourself to move on. but letting go proves harder than you ever imagined.

word count : 4,159

author's note : this took three days, whether this is good or not. i hope you like this series. sorry if there are any mistakes.

taglist : @minhosbitterriver

To the world, he's an idol.

But to you, he's much more. He's your best friend, someone who knows you deeply and stands by you. He became an idol while you were still in college.

Actually, you love him.

As his fame grew through the years, you continued your studies, focusing on your master's degree to become a vet. It's sweet how he tells you that if his cats ever get sick, he can come to you for help and doesn't need to find another vet.

You love the idea, so you promise him that.

When Minho invited you to the dorm to watch movies, hang out, or chat, you were always greeted by the sound of yelling, people running around, or occasionally the smell of burnt food. You laughed it off, knowing they were like a family. Despite the chaos, Chan kept apologizing to you profusely. While Chan kept bowing and apologizing to you, you watched Minho—well, yeah, he was busy stuffing tissues into Hyunjin's mouth.

Your eyes widened, and you excused yourself from Chan. He followed your gaze and soon facepalmed.

"Minho! Stop that, idiot. You're hurting him!" You scolded, grabbing his arm to make him stop. He gave you a disgusted look, as if to say, "Why are you on Hyunjin's side, not mine?"

"Well, tell him to shut up! He hurt my eardrums!" Minho retorted, yanking his arm away from your grip. Hyunjin, finally free, gasped for air and glared at Minho.

"God, Y/n. How could you stand him?" Hyunjin asked, throwing an arm over his eyes as if exhausted by the ordeal. You laughed softly, glancing at Minho who was still grumbling.

"It wasn't always easy, but I guess I'd gotten used to his antics. Besides, someone had to keep an eye on him."

Minho shot you a mock glare. "Oh, so now you're against me too?"

"Of course not." You replied with a grin. "But sometimes you did make it hard. Maybe I just had a soft spot for difficult people." Minho rolled his eyes at your statement and went back to setting up the movie.

Minho wasn't much of a talker; he preferred to listen more. There were times he did speak, but not often. Still, you were grateful that he wanted to share his days with you. On the other hand, you loved talking, especially with him, and joking around was always fun. However, he hated it when you teamed up with Kim Seungmin.

He remembered a time when you were playing a game with Seungmin. Minho messaged you, urgently asking where you were because he needed your help to find Dori's toy. Seungmin took your phone and replied with a dog meme flipping the middle finger. He hated how powerful you'd become with Seungmin.

You eventually made friends with all of them, and most of them were a lot of fun to hang out with.

One thing they didn't know was your feelings for him. Yes, some of them might have asked about it, but Minho brushed it off, reassuring them that you both were just best friends. It hurt, and you could feel your heart breaking every time Minho downplayed it, making you question if your feelings were even noticed. You didn't know when the feelings started—maybe it was because you often spent time together, or perhaps it was the way you were enchanted whenever you were with him.

As time went on, you continued with your own life, focusing on your studies. Yet, whenever you lost in thought, Minho always seemed to come to mind.

After a long day at college, you finally got back to your apartment, exhausted and ready to rest. Just as you were about to settle in, you heard a notification from your phone. You checked it and saw a message from Minho saying he would be coming over because Felix and Seungmin had somehow managed to burn the kitchen.

Your face lit up, a smile curving on your lips. Even though you had to admit you were really tired and your back ached, you couldn't help but feel a little excited at the thought of Minho coming over.

"Thank you for letting me come here. It was crazy there—Chan was now scolding them both." Minho said as he arrived. He looked around your apartment, taking in the calm atmosphere compared to the chaos he had just left.

"I owed you one for this. If you needed anything, just let me know."

You laughed softly, despite your exhaustion. "No need to thank me. Just make yourself comfortable."

He sat on your couch, trying to calm his mind, while you sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. As you listened, he started to ramble about how the new comeback was wearing him out.

"I swear, this comeback has completely worn me out. With the upcoming tour, I'm just so exhausted." Minho said, running a hand through his hair. You listened quietly, offering a comforting presence.

"I could only imagine how tough that must be. But you were doing an amazing job. It's okay to take a break and just breathe for a bit..." You replied, stifling a yawn as you started to feel sleepy.

"You've never seen me in the practice room. You need to know how tiring it is! Jisung keeps falling, or Chan forgets to mirror the dance." He continued, shaking his head.

You kept listening to his ramble, it made your heart flutter when he opened up to you. Today was just different—you were more tired than ever. You wanted to hear more and value these moments, but you shifted slightly, and your head eventually rested against the edge of the couch.

Minho continued talking until he heard your little snores, realizing you had fallen asleep. He glanced down and was surprised to see you resting against the edge of the couch, a gentle smile forming on his lips.

Not wanting to disturb you, he carefully moved to sit on the floor beside you, letting you rest comfortably.

"I didn't realize how exhausted you were. Make sure you get some rest. I'll stay here for a while."

You knew you loved him more, and it was becoming clearer each day. Every time you were with him, you could feel butterflies in your stomach and a warm flush across your cheeks. Even if you didn't really hang around the building or accompany him during practice, the time you spent together was enough to make your feelings grow stronger.

You loved him, and you couldn't even describe your own feelings. You could talk about him all day, about the little things he did that made your heart race, the way he smiled, or how he always knew what to say to make you feel better. But no matter how deeply you loved him, a nagging doubt always lingered at the back of your mind.

Did he see you as more than just a friend? Or were you forever destined to be just his best friend, standing on the sidelines of his heart?

It was night time when Minho invited you to tag along with the group at the carnival. You didn't really want to get on the rides, so you chose to just watch them. As time went on, you all walked around, talking and laughing, but you found yourself lagging behind Minho, falling behind the others.

You glanced at his back, wanting to cherish moments like these just with him. Your mind trailed off, and you couldn't help but think that one day, he'd find someone who truly matched him. There were so many beautiful idols out there, and you began to realize.

Maybe you just weren't meant for him.

A deep sadness settled in your chest as you trailed behind, feeling the distance grow between your heart and reality. You watched him from afar, caught between the joy of being near him and the painful acknowledgment that your feelings might never be returned. The carnival lights seemed to mock your longing, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been but likely never would.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You didn't want to ruin this moment—he looked so happy, enjoying himself with the group.

Why couldn't you be strong for once? Why couldn't you just move on from him?

The self-doubt and heartache overwhelmed you, making you wish you could just disappear at this point.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Minho asked softly, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he tried to get your attention. As you looked up at him, you saw the concern etched on his face. You didn't want to make him worry.

"I'm fine, Minho. I was thinking how can cats eat leaves." You assured him, adding a joke to deflect his concern. You hoped it would be enough to brush off his worry.

Minho raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Cats eating leaves? You're such a weirdo, Y/n." You laughed softly, relieved as his playful comment eased the tension.

Throughout the night, the ache in your heart never quite went away. No matter how hard you tried to push your feelings aside, it felt like everything around you kept reminding you of them, making it hard to enjoy the evening.

Lee Know from Stray Kids Rumored to Be Dating a Member of a Girl Group.

As you read the headlines, and a knot tightened in your stomach. A flood of questions overwhelmed you, each one gnawing at you and making it harder to breathe.

You knew this day might come, but you didn't expect it to hurt so much. It was as if your heart was being shattered into a million pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last.

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but it was useless. Each tear that fell felt like another piece of your heart breaking away. You should've known better. But why couldn't you just leave him be? Why couldn't you just let go?

You let yourself cry the whole day, dying to ask him if the rumors were true or not. Yet, you didn't dare touch your phone to message him. You were afraid, you were scared. The fear of hearing confirmation, of shattering your last glimmer of hope, kept you paralyzed. Every sob seemed to wrack your entire being, leaving you feeling more fragile and broken with each passing moment.

You clutched your pillow, drenched with your tears. You never imagined that loving him could be this painful. Everything felt unbearably heavy, and it seemed like pure torture. It was as if your world was collapsing, each breath more difficult to take under the weight of your unspoken love.

Luckily, you didn't have class today, so you could cry as much as you wanted. If there had been class, you were sure you wouldn't have been able to focus.

What made it worse was that you didn't have any friends other than Minho and the other Stray Kids members. You hated yourself for not branching out more, and now you had to face the painful reality of moving on from your only close friend.

You kept your word, making an effort to avoid him as much as possible. Your days felt lonelier, and your apartment seemed colder, each corner a reminder of the emptiness you felt.

You hated having to be this way with your own friend. After two weeks, you responded only with short replies or didn't answer his messages at all. His calls went straight to voicemail.

When you arrived back at your apartment, you looked around and realized just how much you missed him. The reality of it hit hard—you were nothing like him, and you felt utterly miserable without him.

"Hyung, I haven't seen Y/n in a while. I tried to message her but she said she's been busy lately." Han said as he took a seat next to Minho in the studio. He then began to type something on his laptop.

Minho's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about Y/n? I've been trying to reach her for weeks, but she's been completely unresponsive."

Han glanced up from his laptop, noticing Minho's distress. "I didn't know something was going on. I thought she was just busy with school or something. Is everything okay?"

Minho sighed heavily, unsure of what to say. He had never truly asked about you. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered.

"I don't know... She's not her usual self these days..." Minho admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He was confused about what to do, feeling lost without knowing what was going on. Normally, you always knew exactly what to do or say in moments like this, but now, without you, he felt completely lost and unsure of how to fix things.

"You know? Y/n is my voice when w-words fail me, she's the person who listens patiently to all my thoughts, and she's the person I depend on when I need someone to be there..."

Seeing his hyung, who almost never talks about his feelings, open up like this was like watching someone who'd been silent their whole life suddenly find their voice. Han could sense just how much you meant to him. It was as if you were the missing piece of Minho's life, the one person who made everything make sense.

God, he wished for someone like you to come into his own life.

"Hyung, I'm sorry to ask this, but do you have feelings for her?" Han's question left Minho stunned.

"What kind of question is that? She's my best friend!" Minho snapped, his words coming out sharper than he intended. There was no way he could have feelings for his own friend, right?

Han looked down at his laptop, trying to gather his thoughts. He had no intention of breaking into his hyung's boundaries, but since he knew you too, he was sure one of you was in love. That thought was embedded in his mind, an unspoken truth he couldn't ignore. He didn't say much, but he noticed the subtle glances and fleeting smiles, the silent language of affection that spoke louder than words.

Minho didn't know what was going through his mind. His instincts urged him to see you, as if something inside was telling him he needed to. He sent you a message saying he would pick you up today.

As he waited for you to finish class, the minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly. When you finally received his message, you were taken aback.

You spotted him waiting for you, his face obscured by a mask and glasses, and a hat pulled low over his eyes. His attempt at disguise almost made him unrecognizable.

"Hey, dummy."

"Hey, why did you waste your time picking me up?" You asked, your tone coming off colder than you intended. You knew clearly he was supposed to have practice today.

"I have some free time, so why not? Plus, you've been acting strange lately, I was starting to think you'd vanished into thin air." Minho replied with a hint of a smile behind his mask. His eyes stayed fixed on you as you walked ahead, a look of concern and curiosity on his face that felt more intense than usual.

As you both walked side by side, the silence between you felt heavier than usual. You could feel Minho's gaze occasionally drifting towards you.

"Are you okay?" Minho finally broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. You hesitated, struggling to keep your composure. 

"It's nothing, really."

He stopped walking and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, making you turn to face him. "Y/n, you don't have to shut me out. If something's wrong, I want to help. You're my friend, and I care about you." 

Hearing him worry about you made your heart ache. You took a deep breath, struggling to hold back your emotions.

"It's just… There are things I can’t talk about. Not right now..." Minho's eyes softened with understanding.

You stood in silence, your emotions bubbling just beneath the surface. You wanted to voice everything you'd been holding back for so long, but the words felt trapped, unable to escape.

The awkward silence was broken by a soft, pitiful meow. You and Minho turned simultaneously, searching for the source of the sound. Minho's expression softened as he carefully approached, revealing a small, trembling kitten cradled in his hands.

Your heart melted at the sight. Without a word, you reached out and carefully took the kitten from Minho, your vet student instincts immediately taking over. As you examined the kitten with utmost care, you spoke gently to it, trying to calm its trembling. You reached into your bag and pulled out some supplies, preparing to tend to its needs.

Minho watched you closely, mesmerized by your gentle touch and genuine care. He was at a loss for what was stirring inside him, but as he watched you tenderly care for the kitten, you looked more beautiful than ever. His heart raced uncontrollably, and a warm flush spread across his cheeks.

As you finished tending to the kitten, you glanced up and caught Minho's eyes on you. He immediately averted his gaze, clearly flustered.

"See? You're okay now, little one..." You said, gently setting the kitten down. It looked a bit more refreshed now. You then brought out some food, carefully placing it near the tiny creature.

The warmth in your actions contrasted sharply with the coldness you'd shown him recently. The more he stared at you, the more his heart began to race, each beat louder than the last. He noticed the same habit you both shared, carrying cat food wherever you went. How could he have forgotten about that?

It was just like the day you met him.

You were helping a cat that had fallen into a sewer when Minho found you. He thought you were weird, which is why he called you an idiot. Despite that, he helped you rescue the cat. That shared moment had been the start of your friendship, and now, seeing you like this, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart.

Maybe, Han was right.

"It's like the first time we've met..." He mumbled softly, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Yeah... It does." You replied, a small smile forming on your lips. The memory of that day flooded back, bringing with it a bittersweet feeling.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of your emotions. With a trembling sigh, you looked up at him, your heart heavy with the realization of the truth you'd been trying to avoid.

"Minho." You started, your voice breaking. "I think... I think we shouldn't be friends anymore."

The words fell from your lips like a heavy, painful blow, and you could see Minho's world crumble in his eyes. As you turned to walk away, each step felt like a dagger to the heart. The light of your presence, once so vibrant, began to fade, leaving behind a suffocating coldness. 

Minho felt the warmth of your presence slipping through his fingers, replaced by an overwhelming chill that engulfed his heart.

"Is he okay?" Chan asked, peering through the door, the rest of the members trailing behind him. They all shook their heads, unsure. Chan sighed and approached Minho's side.

"Man. Listen, I don't know what's up, but you can't keep going like this. We've got stuff to do, and you're not doing anyone any favors by shutting us out. Just talk to us, okay?"

Minho took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "It's her... It's true what Han said, I really love her. Ugh, I didn't understand it at first, but now I see it clearly..."

Chan's expression softened as he listened to Minho's confession. "Then why don't you confess your feelings?" He asked gently. "You have a lifetime chance to win her heart, but that chance could slip away if you let your fears or ego get in the way. You need to be honest with her. It's the only way to find out if there's a future for you two."

Just as Chan's words echoed in his mind, a surge of clarity jolted through Minho. It wasn't too late to confess. He knew, deep down, that you were the only one he truly wanted. The thought of losing you forever was unbearable.

"Also, have you heard the dating rumors about you? That's probably what hurt her. If I'm right, those rumors have been spreading for at least a month—"

"Are you kidding me? A month?!" Minho's voice was a mix of anger and disbelief.

The realization hit him hard. The pain you must have felt—he now felt it deeply in his own heart. It was as if his chest was tightening, making it difficult to breathe. The weight of the rumors and the distance between you both crushed him.

Without thinking, Minho bolted from the room, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. Never in his life had he felt such fear of loss. The moment you walked away had already broken him, but the idea of losing you forever felt like it would destroy him completely.

When he arrived at your apartment, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Doubt and worry gripped him.

Why would you leave the door open or unlocked at night?

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he pushed the door open slowly.

"Y/n?"

When you didn't respond, he stepped inside more fully, the fear gripping him tightening around his chest. His eyes scanned the room frantically before landing on you.

Minho's heart ached at the sight: you were slumped over your desk, surrounded by scattered books and papers. Your exhaustion was palpable; dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your usually vibrant face looked pale and drawn.

Minho gently touched your shoulder, causing you to stir awake. When you fully came to, you were startled to find Minho's face so close to yours.

"Minho? What are you doing—"

Minho cut you off tenderly, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a warmth that felt both comforting and electrifying. You could see his eyes welling up with tears, his voice catching in his throat. The sight of him so broken and vulnerable was almost too much to bear.

"Y/n..." Minho's voice trembled, breaking through the heavy silence.

"I never imagined I'd find someone who could touch my heart like this. But the moment I knew I loved you was when I r-realized how empty my life would be without you. You're everything I've ever wanted and more..."

As Minho's heartfelt confession filled the room, you listened intently, your once-dull eyes beginning to sparkle with emotion. The weight of his words resonated deeply within you, and you could feel your own heartbeat quickening with every beat.

"When you left, the chill that settled in my heart made me understand just how much you were the fire that warmed my soul." Hearing these words, you could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The relief you felt was overwhelming, as if the weight of unspoken feelings was finally lifted from your chest.

"Minho... You've no idea how much I needed to hear this. I've felt so lost, but now, hearing you, it feels like everything is falling into place." Minho gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and reassuring.

"My heart feels like it's been set ablaze." Minho pulled you closer.

As his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in a tender, passionate moment. You gently placed your hands on his neck, fingers lightly brushing through his hair.

The warmth of his body pressed against yours, combined with the sweet pressure of his lips, sent a thrill through you, igniting a fire that mirrored the one he had described.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, your eyes locked with his. A soft smile blossomed on both your lips, and your noses brushed together in a delicate, shared moment.

"Then let me be the breeze that fans your flames, ensuring our fire burns bright." 

[joonsmagicshop]

Wait, You're a Virgin?

Summary: Jungkook gets teased at a college party for being a virgin and asks you to help him out

Paring: Virgin Jungkook/Reader (Jimin and Tae for the plot)

Word Count: 8.8k

Rating: M/18+ because smut

Tags: porn with plot, virgin Jungkook, first time, fluff, smut, handjobs, blow jobs, eating pussy, fingering, fucking, college drinking, College AU

Authors Note: This all started because of the duality of Jeon Jungkook because how can one man be so small and cute but sexy at the same time????? Also please know if you are a virgin in college there is nothing wrong with you and it is totally A-ok. Everyone is on a different timeline when it's meant to happen it will happen

The library was your sanctuary and safe space.

A place where you could listen to the quiet hum of the heater and hear the soft sounds of pencils scratching against paper while you focused on the mountain of homework you had to complete.

You would not be hearing the sounds of rough sex in the library

Which was exactly what brought you here tonight.

Your roommate and her boyfriend had decided to have sex…again…for the third time today and this time, they were not being quiet about it.

You felt gross listening in, but even your headphones couldn't block out the noise of his grunts and moans so you hastily grabbed your stuff and threw it into a tote bag before getting out of there as quickly as possible and making your way to the library.

It was a Friday night and the library was busier than usual. You knew most college students were in the same boat as you. November was fast approaching and assignments and final exams loomed over most of the students as they all crammed to remember what they had learned.

You were planning on studying tonight anyway so you took your usual spot at the small wooden desk by the window and got settled in.

Textbooks were spread out everywhere and you started up your laptop as you pulled your hair back into a ponytail. You hummed quietly to yourself as you pulled your sweater off your body.

Right as you were about to start studying your phone vibrated loudly against the desk. Multiple people glared at you as you ducked your head and apologized, quickly turning your phone to silent and checking to see who was texting you.

You tried to stifle your giggles as you pictured Taehyung's horrified face as he stood by the door hearing your roommate going at it.

You grinned as you could imagine the blush that was covering Taehyung's cheeks. He had been harboring a massive, mega crush on Park Jimin since the start of the year. He had accidentally turned a corner too quickly on campus and bumped right into him. Jimin was polite and kept apologizing over Taehyung's apologizes and they both had a good laugh out of it

A week later he was claiming it was fate and Jimin and him were meant to be.

Tae had started to drag you to parties he knew Jimin would be attending. Most of the time choosing to stare at him from across the room before actually going over to talk to him. As the weeks dragged on Tae had become a lot more comfortable and got to know Jimin and his friends, easing himself into their group effortlessly.

You slipped your phone into your jacket pocket and smiled.

You slipped your headphones on and turned on some random background music track as you got to work. Every once in a while taking breaks to stretch or drink water, sometimes just staring out the window at the cars that would drive by. The sun had set hours ago and you checked your phone to see you had already been working for almost two hours.

Just as you were about to pack up, your phone screen flashed, signaling someone was calling you.

“Hello?” You said quietly packing up your stuff and trying to keep your voice low.

“Y/N. Need you to come to this party. Now.” Tae demanded with an air of urgency.

“Tae I said I wanted to get some work done…remember? Besides aren't you with your man?” You teased as you slung your backpack over your shoulder and exited the library, opting to sit on one of the comfy couches that were just outside the library.

“I'm trying to be with my man but I need you here. Right now. He's been man-napped and I need your help.” Tae said, clearly upset.

“Man-napped? What does that even mean?” You ask trying to hold back your snickers.

“It means someone has been all over him all night and I can't get him alone. I need you here as a distraction. Now.” Taehyung explained. You shook your head. Taehyung was always known for being slightly dramatic.

“Who's all over him anyway?” You respond as you lean back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Jeon Jungkook.” Tae grits out and you want to laugh

You really do

“Jeon Jungkook? Seriously?” You deadpan

Jeon Jungkook was very shy and quiet. He had been to multiple parties but you had hardly said two words to him. He had dark hair and big doe eyes that made him seem a lot younger. He mostly hung out with Kim Namjoon who could make friends with almost anybody.

“Yes. Jungkook. But he's…different.” Tae explained as you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Tae. Please. I need more information before I drop everything and show up to Jimin's” You explain to him rubbing a hand down your face.

“Oh. We're not at Jimin's were at Liza's, her parents….it doesn't matter. What matters is Jungkook is stealing my man Y/N.” Taehyung all but whines.

“Jungkook? Like the Jungkook that doesn't leave Namjoon's side?” You prod for more information failing to hide the disbelief in your voice.

“He's… okay well did you know he has a full sleeve of tattoos? Did you know that under all those baggy clothes he's fit as fuck? He's man-napping Jimin. I need you to come and distract him.” Taehyung finally explains as you sit up a little straighter.

Because no.

You didn't know any of that about Jungkook.

It seemed hard to picture him like that but you combed through your memory trying to figure out if you ever saw him in a short-sleeved shirt.

“1950 Maple Road. Text me when you're here.” Taehyung said before the phone line went dead.

You stared at your phone in disbelief as you called a taxi to take you there

“This is ridiculous,” You told yourself as you got in the taxi

“Jungkook is nothing to worry about.” You reminded yourself as you paid the driver and set off towards the house, texting Taehyung on the way.

“Tae is being dramatic.” You muttered under your breath as he met you at the front door.

You quickly dropped your bag and took off your shoes as you looked around.

The music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out conversation as Taehyung dragged you around the house. You saw some people you recognized from class and sent them small waves as you were brought from room to room before you settled in the kitchen.

“See!” Tae exclaimed as he not so subtly pointed towards the massive living room where Jimin and Jungkook were sitting on a couch together, Namjoon sitting on the floor, his long legs sprawled out.

Your jaw dropped.

It was Jungkook but not how you remembered him.

He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and his tattoos were on full display. His legs were spread wide and his knee was bumping into Jimin's. His hands were around a red solo cup and he took a sip and scanned the crowd.

“Told you.” Taehyung hissed in your ear as he pulled you towards the couch before you could even process what you were seeing.

“Hey Y/N made it!” Tae announced as Jimin and Namjoon smiled and greeted you. Jungkook gave you a quick glance then turned to look around at the party. Clearly, he was still shy under this tough guy persona.

Taehyung chose to sit on the armrest of the couch next to Jimin so you had no choice but to sit on the armrest on the other side of the couch, next to Jungkook.

You weren't really paying attention to the conversation around you, it was about a video game you knew nothing about. Instead you tried to formulate a plan to get Jungkook alone. As his knee kept bumping Jimin's and Tae kept shooting you worried looks.

“I didn't know you had tattoos Jungkook?” You said nudging him to get his attention.

He looked up at you, his big dark eyes widening. You pointed towards his tattoos and he blushed.

“Yeah, I'm an art student so it…kind of fits the vibe you know…Namjoon said-” He was cut off when Namjoon swatted his knee and gave him a pointed look.

“I just wanted to wear short sleeves tonight.” He finished lamely and you giggled wondering what Namjoon had said to the boy.

Before you could continue Seokjin came by to talk to Namjoon about class and Namjoon got up from the floor and promised he would be back soon, as he followed Seokjin in the crowd.

Now it was just Tae, Jimin, Jungkook, and yourself.

Now was the time to make a move.

Before you could even open your mouth to say something a girl came up to the couch eyeing Jungkook.

“Hey, we are going to start a game of Never Have I Ever in the dining room. You should join us.” She said with a smile of her over-glossed lips, staring at Jungkook and Jungkook only.

“Yeah, Jungkook let's go!” You said excitedly hopping off the armrest and looking at him.

This was the perfect opening to get Tae and Jimin alone.

God, you were a good friend.

Jungkook looked unsure but the girl didn't give him time to say no. Instead, she wrapped a well-manicured hand around his arm and pulled him from the couch dragging him through the crowd.

Taehyung snickered as you shook your head.

“Well, I should go keep an eye on him.” You say excusing yourself and grinning as you make your way through the house, taking the long way to the kitchen, which was right next to the dining room.

You found a red solo cup and filled it with pop as you kept an eye on the party. Tucked back against the kitchen wall you had a great view of the dining room, where Jungkook was dragged into a chair by the girl and looking super nervous.

You also had a great view of the living room where Taehyung took Jungkook's place on the couch looking like he had just won the lottery.

You smiled to yourself as you sipped your drink and watched the party unfold. You were more than happy to be a wallflower, just taking it all in.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone squeezed your arm and you looked to see Namjoon standing there with a dimpled grin.

“About time they got together.” He said nodding in the direction of Tae and Jimin whose heads were bent low, talking together.

“That's what I've been saying! The fact Tae dragged me here as a babysitter is ridiculous. He had nothing to worry about.” You admitted.

“Babysitter?” Namjoon asked as you flushed realizing what you just admitted.

“Uh. Shit. I shouldn't have said anything.” You said, embarrassed as Namjoon let out a soft laugh and adjusted his black beanie.

“Tae called me in a panic because he was worried about Jungkook. I'm supposed to be distracting him so Tae can have Jimin to himself. But I guess it all worked out.” You admitted with a shy smile.

“Ah. Yeah, Tae had nothing to worry about. Jimin has been telling me for months he thought Tae was hot. Plus Jungkook isn't like that. He thinks Jimin is cool. That's all.” Namjoon admits, sipping his drink again

“What did you tell him about his tattoos?” You suddenly asked as Namjoon let out a laugh and nearly spilled his drink in the process.

“He wasn't supposed to say anything! I told him, well I told him if he displays them instead of hiding under all these baggy clothes maybe he could get laid. I didn't think it would actually work.” He said surprised as you both looked over to the dining room where the girl was practically on his lap.

“Good for him.” You said with a small smile.

“Yeah. Listen, if Tae is having you play babysitter I'm gonna go talk to some people. Keep an eye on Jungkook. See you” Namjoon said squeezing your arm again and disappearing into the mix of people.

About five minutes after Namjoon left you alone in the kitchen the sounds from the dining room caught your attention.

You walked over, staying against the wall as you would much rather watch than play.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping!” A redheaded girl said completely slurring her words and thrusting her cup in the air, spilling half the drink on the table.

“Boring!” Someone called out and you watched as Jungkook seemed to flinch. You weren't sure if it was because of the question or because the girl was dragging her fingernails up and down his arm teasingly and shooting him what could only be described as bedroom eyes.

He was looking uncomfortable again, like he didn't know what to do with her and would rather be anywhere else.

“Let's get spicy shall we?” One of the guys said with a smirk that had your stomach twisting even though you were still against the wall not playing the game.

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” He called out.

Most people let out laughs and almost all of the table took a drink.

Except Jungkook.

Which got the attention of the girl who was currently tangling her fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of Jungkook's neck.

“What? You haven't?” She exclaimed loudly, which had most of the table looking over.

Jungkook looked like a deer in the headlights. You could see a rosy blush covering his cheeks and his eyes were wide and panicked.

Before he could answer someone else chimed in.

“Okay, never have I ever had sex!”

This time everyone at the table drank.

Except Jungkook.

The girl who was almost in his lap wasn't having that and stared him down.

“Wait you're a virgin? You are in college and a virgin?!” She asked obnoxiously loud as people around the table began to laugh.

“How old are you anyways?” a guy teased which got the attention of the whole table.

The girl took it a step further and grabbed her chair and made a big show of moving it as far away from his as possible.

The table erupted in loud laughter and Jungkook remained seated, a red blush covering his face and hanging his head in embarrassment.

“No seriously? How have you not fucked anyone before?” Another girl halfway down the table asked as the girl who was all over him a moment ago was rolling her eyes as if he wasn't worth her time.

Jungkook didn't lift his head. You could feel his embarrassment from across the room as the table kept laughing and teasing him with snide remarks.

You saw the same girl that was all over him about to open her mouth again and without thinking you stepped in.

You marched up to the table and raised your voice.

“Never have I ever been an asshole about something that is not my business and not a big deal anyway?” You said staring them all down with a cold look in your eye.

People stared up at you in shock and the crowd at the table completely went silent. Before anyone could form a sentence you continued.

“You better drink.” You said snarling at them as you nodded to Jungkook and he quickly raised himself from the chair.

Before you could move one of the guys spoke up.

“Why so offended? Are you a sad virgin too?” He teased as the table roared with laughter.

You didn't bother to respond, instead, you grabbed Jungkook's hand and stormed out of the dining room and to the front entrance, you grabbed your coat and bag and went right out the front door. Their laughter ringing loud in your ears.

Jungkook stared you down in awe and you finally turned to look at him after you calmed down a bit.

“I-You didn't have to do that. I mean thank you. But you didn't have to.” He said looking at you with a small smile.

Even though he said you didn't have to you could tell he was pleased that you got him out of that terrible game.

“Yeah, I did. They shouldn't have shamed you for that! It's stupid. Who cares if you have fucked a bunch of people or no one at all. It's not their business.” You replied firmly still feeling heated.

“Hey. It's okay.” Jungkook replied pulling you from your thoughts.

“I know I just. I hate when people shame people like that. It's wrong.” You admit finally feeling calm as you sighed and sat on the step.

Jungkook sat down next to you and rubbed his hands together trying to warm himself up.

You both stayed out there for a while. Not talking but sitting close enough that your legs were touching. You stared up at the stars and took in the silence.

“Listen you don't have to stay out here with me. I think I'm just gonna go home anyway.” You admit pulling out your phone to get a ride.

“I'll drive you home.” He said with a small smile as he grabbed your hand and helped you up.

“Jungkook you don't have to. It's fine.” You said.

“Think of it as a thank you for standing up for me. Come on it will save you money. I promise I'm completely sober. Couldn't drink during that game anyway.” He said with a big grin as he led you down the street to his car.

Once you both got inside he cranked the heat to take away the chill and kept the music low in case you wanted to talk.

Eventually, he pulled in front of your dorm and shut off the car you were feeling a lot more relaxed the further you got from the party.

“Thanks again for standing up for me.” He said. His voice small as he smiled at you softly.

You smiled back at him as you grabbed your bag from the floor and held it on your lap.

“Can I ask you? Are you…I mean have you….had…sex?” Jungkook asked as he stared you down with a confused look on his face.

You nodded.

“It happened with a guy I met in my first year. We saw each other for about three months and then had sex. It wasn't that great.” You muttered with a laugh. “Then he blocked and deleted my number and never spoke to me again. I tried to confront him in person but he acted like he didn't know me. It was super embarrassing.”

“That should not have happened to you. I'm sorry Y/N.” He said softly as he put his hands on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. His side profile is illuminated by the streetlights.

“Yeah well. You live and learn, right? You haven't had sex and I got ghosted after sex. We're a great combo.” You said with a humorless laugh, fiddling with the straps on your backpack not sure what to say.

“Can I…ask you another question?” He says sounding nervous as he won't look at you, instead still staring out the windshield into the dark night.

“Of course.” You say softly.

“Would you? Want to have sex….with me?” He says slowly, as if he was testing the waters.

Your eyes widened and you felt your stomach swoop as you stared him down.

“I mean I'm a virgin and you didn't have the best experience and I just thought- forget it it's… God, I can't believe I said that out loud.” He rambled.

You put a hand on his arm to stop him as he finally looked at you. Eyes wide, lips parted.

“Jungkook where is this coming from? Talking about sex and having sex are two different things and before tonight. I mean, we hardly said two words to each other.” You replied feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

“I just- I don't know I want my first time to be with someone I can trust. Someone I know. And after tonight… I mean you stood up for me in front of an entire crowd. You could see I was uncomfortable and stepped in. You didn't shame me for being a virgin and I just, god I don't know, I want it to be with someone I like. And trust. And that's you.” He says lacing his fingers through yours as you're taken aback

He trusts you?

He likes you?

“You….like me?” You ask feeling yourself grin.

Jungkook stares you down and smiles.

“Out of all that you only took away that I like you?” He teased as you let out a breathy laugh and the tension dispels a little bit.

“Namjoon said if I dressed more confident, became more confident, maybe you would notice me. It worked tonight huh?” He said with a smirk as your jaw dropped

“And here Namjoon told me you were doing it so you could get laid! That liar!” You said, body shaking with laughter.

“Well I mean, I did ask for that too didn't I?” He said back as you stopped laughing and stared him down.

The car suddenly feels hotter

and way smaller

You felt your face heat up and realized he was serious. So serious about the whole thing.

“Namjoon has known I've liked you for… a while now. He told me that being shy won't get your attention so he helped me tonight by making me dress like this. I'm not just using you to get laid Y/N I do really like you. I think you're smart and pretty and I trust you with this.”

You swallowed hard.

“But also I want to get to know you. If you'll let me.”

Before you could form an answer Jungkook took your phone and you watched as he put his number into your contacts.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute as he handed you back your phone. You stared down at it in disbelief as he grinned at you.

“Anyway, I should get back to the party. I'm Namjoon's ride home.” He says as you grab your bag and exit the car. Still trying to process what he just said.

“Text me yeah?” He said as you closed the door and he shot you a smile before peeling away, back to the party.

------------

You texted Jungkook to make sure he had made it home safe

He had responded within minutes.

He also sent you a funny meme

You sent one back

Which had you both staying up well past midnight talking and sending funny pictures and videos back and forth

He told you about his tattoos

He told you about his childhood

His parents

You shared your life with him as he shared his with you.

It was turning into a beautiful friendship and after almost a month you were as close to Jungkook as you were with Taehyung.

November was a busy month full of studying and homework. You spent most of your days in the library now anyway as your roommate and her boyfriend's idea of a break from studying was to fuck wildly in the dorm.

You knew it was part of the college experience but you wondered if at this point you should just move into the library with how much time you were starting to spend there.

It also made you think of Jungkook's

and what he asked for that night.

That specific topic has not been brought up since. However, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

About him.

He was so funny, and sweet, and kind. Even though he had this shy exterior once you got to know him he was pretty impressive and there were a couple of pictures he had sent you that you saved in your phone just in case.

Like the one of him coming out of the shower showing you his tattoo sleeve with a grin on his face.

Like he knew what he was doing to you.

But all that would have to be put on hold because exam season was fast approaching and even Tae was starting to head to the library to study more.

The weather got colder and you spent most of your days either studying, grabbing a warm drink with Tae, or when your roommate was out you would curl up on the very small dorm room couch and watch a movie, snuggled in your comfiest clothes.

Sometimes Taehyung would join you for a movie. Eating most of the snacks and talking over the whole thing, usually about how cute Jimin was.

Sometimes Jungkook would join you. He would attempt to fold himself up as small as possible to fit on the couch trying to give you space, eventually, you would cave and lay in his lap so he had room to spread his legs.

Sometimes you would go to Jimin's house. Where the group would have a movie night or game night and somehow you would always gravitate towards Jungkook. Either being on his team for a video game or sitting on the same couch as him during a movie.

Tae begged you to just ask him out at this point

Oh, how the tables have turned.

By the time December came around these hangouts were non-existent. Everyone was in study mode and you hardly had time to schedule a meet-up as your books were piled high and you were cramming as much as you could just to pass your classes before winter break.

On your last exam day, you got an early gift from your roommate. You knew she always went home for the holidays and usually left the same day as you. However this year she and her boyfriend wanted to do a mini road trip before they went home so they were leaving a couple of days earlier than usual.

You immediately texted Taehyung and voted for a movie night. One last hangout before you all go home for the holidays.

He agreed as long as he could bring Jimin

You agreed as long as you could invite Jungkook.

Jimin showed up wearing a bright red Christmas sweater and he brought loads of snacks.

Tae showed up in a green Christmas sweater giving you a kiss on the cheek and bringing some drinks

Jungkook showed up in a red short-sleeved shirt and jeans, apologizing because this was the most festive thing he owned

You didn't really care because he looked good in red.

Very good in red.

Taehyung and Jimin grabbed pillows and settled in on the floor as they got the movie set up. Jungkook got in his usual position on the couch and you followed suit, snuggling into his arms and pulling a blanket over both of you as Tae and Jimin were getting comfortable on the floor.

Halfway through the movie you shifted in your seat to get more comfortable as your right leg was starting to go numb. As you shifted Jungkook wrapped his hands around you tighter and you moved backward pushing yourself further into his lap when you felt something.

A hardness

Poking into your back.

You froze as his grip tightened around you.

“Y/N.” He whispered in your ear which caused goosebumps to break out on your arms.

You pushed back against it again and he let out a breathy grunt in your ear.

He was hard.

Very hard.

Oh.

“Y/N stop moving… please.” He whined lowly in your ear.

The movie was long forgotten as you sat there, his arms still wrapped around you, hardness still poking you as you fought the urge to shift around some more.

Finally, the movie ended and you untangled yourself from him. His boner was long gone by now but you could feel your skin flushed at the very thought of him being hard.

You jumped from the couch helping Tae clean as Jimin and Jungkook chatted.

“When are you and Jimin heading out?” You asked Tae in the kitchen as he helped you pack everything up and clean the multiple snack bowls.

“Tomorrow afternoon. I'm driving him to his house then we're celebrating apart. The relationship is too new for the whole meet the entire family thing.” Taehyung explains with a cute boxy grin.

You could tell he was over the moon to be with Park Jimin and you were happy for him.

“What about you? When are you and Jungkook making it official?” He teases back and you shush him and shoot a glance at the living room.

Before you can answer Jimin comes into the small kitchen and wraps his arms around Tae saying that he was sleepy and was ready to go home.

Jungkook offers to help you clean the rest as they both put on their coats and say their goodbyes. Giving you hugs and wishing you Happy Holidays as they leave.

Suddenly it's just you and Jungkook

and you feel nervous.

He begins busying himself with cleaning the living room as you assist him. Neither of you spoke as you cleaned up blankets and pillows and the leftover chips Taehyung spilled when he was leaning in to kiss Jimin.

You could feel this invisible tension in the room as you both worked in silence. The dorms were pretty quiet because most people had gone home for the holidays and you almost wished there was some kind of noise.

“Listen I want to say I'm sorry,” Jungkook said breaking the silence as you put a pillow back on the couch and stared at him

“I just. I didn't mean to freak you out. It's just… you were in my lap… and moving around and it just kind of happened. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable” He admitted shyly looking at the floor.

You stared at him in disbelief.

You weren't uncomfortable at all

You were horny

For him.

“Jungkook.” You breathed as you stepped towards him.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all. Random hard ons are natural you know.” You all but whisper feeling your heart rate start to pick up.

“Well, I wouldn't say it was random Y/N. You in those tight leggings and that sweater, fuck. You look so hot… and then you were squirming in my lap… I mean… God.” He says running a hand through his dark hair.

You looked down at your outfit and almost laughed.

You were just wearing a plain forest green sweater and black leggings.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He admits with a shy smile which has you leaning in closer, breath fanning over your face.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” You ask voice low as he wraps his hands around your upper arms bringing you closer.

“Yeah.”

“Kiss me.” You all but sigh as he pulls you in and his lips connect with yours.

His kisses are soft and gentle. He takes his time pressing his lips into yours and his fingertips massage your upper arms.

You step closer so you are pushed right up against his body as he leans down and deepens the kiss. Tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth and let him take his time exploring you. His hands now rubbing up and down your arms.

All the days and weeks of talking, flirting, and getting to know each other poured out into this kiss.

You reach up and tangle your hands through his hair as he lets out a content sigh in your mouth. He walks you backwards so you are now pressed up against the wall next to the door, his body towering over you and caging you in as the kisses become more needy, and frantic.

You want to rip off his clothes and devour him whole. But you also know he is new to this whole thing and you want to take it slow. Make it good for him. Make it good for both of you.

You can once again feel his hardness poke against your hip and you grind down into it which has sweet moans falling from his lips.

You push your body into him harder as the kiss gets more aggressive. He is biting at your lips and pushing into you, his body covering yours as you can feel your stomach swoop and wetness coat your underwear.

You slowed down the kisses and Jungkook followed suit as you slowly pulled away and couldn't hide the grin that spread over your face.

He looked absolutely fucked out

Just from a kiss

His lips were red and slightly bruised, his eyes were wide, his hair was a mess and he was hard, so obviously achingly hard in his jeans.

You were sure you didn't look much better.

“Do you want to…?” You asked staring at him.

He nodded pulling up his shirt in haste and nearly getting it stuck over his head.

You smiled and shook your head as you helped him out of his sweater.

Sure you had seen him shirtless before, mostly in pictures but seeing it in real life was totally different. He was so toned and beautiful and you wanted to stand here for a lifetime taking him in.

“My eyes are up here.” He teased you as you finally broke your gaze from his chest and felt a blush creep up your neck.

“Jungkook are you sure you want to?” You ask softly taking his hands in yours and looking him in the eye.

“I've wanted to since that night at the party Y/N. God, I want to so bad. Please let me fuck you.” He replies which has your pussy aching.

“There are things we should do first before we dive right in.” You explain to him as he nods, teeth biting into his lower lip in anticipation.

“Please. Show me. Teach me.” He says, voice tinged with desperation as you bring a hand up to his arm and spin him around so he is now the one pressed up against the wall.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath as you trail your hand down his chest. Down, down, down you go as his eyes follow your every move.

You give him some more pressure and his hips buck up into your hand.

His skin is soft but taut under your warm palm as you slowly bring your hand to rest on his waistline.

His breath hitches when you go lower, pressing your palm into his erection which has him twitching against you. Head thrown back against the wall and a pretty whine slipped from his lips.

“God you're so big.” You whisper which has his eyes closing and his head thrown back.

“You can't say stuff like that Y/N…god.” He admits as you bring your hand up to unbutton his jeans.

“And why not?” You tease as you shimmy his jeans down and he helps you. Kicking them off and flinging them somewhere in the room.

“Because it's so hot to hear you say that and I'm scared I'm gonna cum in my pants.” He says with a hint of shyness as you stare at him.

“I'm sorry I know you expect me to last long but when you say shit like that and do shit like that. Fuck. I don't think I will be able to.”

You smile as you palm him through the thin material of his boxers. Watching as his cock jumps into your hand.

“Jungkook I have no expectations. This is your first time and our first time together. Believe me. I'm gonna make you cum more than once. Don't worry about having to last.” You say as his eyes widen and you stare up at him.

“Fuck your perfect. Do you know how perfect you are?” He says pulling you in for a kiss. Pushing his erection into you to get some relief as you swallow down his moans.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop or if there is anything you don't like.” You say firmly, teasing the hem of his boxers.

He nods as you finally pull them down and his erection springs free.

His cock is thick and red as you take it in. It slaps up against his stomach and you watch as pre-cum oozes out the tip and down his shaft.

You feel your body ache for him and try to push the feeling aside.

This is about him right now.

You slowly bring your hand up to your mouth as you lick your palm, getting it wet before wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and he lets out a shaky moan as you begin to stroke him slowly. His eyes are blown wide and glued to your hand and how it is moving smoothly across his velvety cock.

“Good?” You ask as you twist your hand at the top which has him twitching in your grasp.

“So good.” He confirms.

You keep him pinned against the wall as you continue to stroke him. Watching as his breath gets heavier and his teeth gnaw at his lower lip. You want to suck him off. You really do. So you pull away and grab his hand. Bringing him towards the couch and having him sit down.

You grab a pillow for under your knees and when Jungkook realizes what you are about to do he lets out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his now sweaty locks.

“Wanna suck you off.” You mutter as Jungkook groans above you.

“Is that okay?” You ask and he lets out a little laugh

“Y/N at this point yes to everything. Absolutely anything.” He replies as you stare at him.

“Jungkook this is your first time. I need to know you want this. Consent is important.” You say firmly sitting back on your heels and staring up at him.

“I- shit sorry I just. Your right. Yes, you can suck me off.” He stammers as you smile up at him.

“Good boy.” You say as you watch his cock twitch against your cheek.

You stop your movements

and make eye contact with him

He is a blushing mess

and his cock is absolutely oozing pre-cum

“You like being called a good boy?” You ask with a knowing smirk.

“I…shit. Yes? Maybe? I don't know I can't think straight with you that close to my cock.” He utters as you finally slip him in your mouth.

You wish you could have recorded the moan that fell from his lips when you finally swallowed him down.

It was the sweetest thing you had ever heard.

Your hand came up to accompany your mouth as you jerked him off and sucked him down.

Jungkook was a mess above you.

His thighs were shaking and he was whining and moaning. His hands tangled in your hair to keep it pulled back and when he pulled a little bit too hard, you moaned around his length.

Your hand sped up along his shaft as you worked him toward orgasm. His body shook above you as you sucked and slobbered all over his cock.

“Gonna. Fuck. Please. Keep going.” He whined out as you work harder and stroked him faster, feeling his cock throb against your tongue knowing he was close and wanting to be the one to push him over the edge.

Y/N.” He warns, as you as you keep going.

“Y/N I'm gonna cum.” He warns you again as you pull your lips off him and stare up into his beautifully fucked out face.

“Wanna cum in my mouth?” You ask as he grips your hair tighter and you don't give him time to respond as you wrap your lips around his cock once more and suck him off as he groans and cums down your throat.

He must have been very pent up because the cum absolutely coated your tongue and you took your time slowing down your movements and breathing through your nose as you worked him through his orgasm.

He was breathing heavily above you and let out a soft wine as you pulled off his cock and swallowed his load.

You opened your mouth to show him and he raked a shaky hand down his sweaty face.

“You're going to be the death me of Y/N, I swear.” He mutters.

You moved the pillows from your knees and sat on the couch next to him. Cuddling him softly and letting him catch his breath.

He kept his head thrown back and eyes shut which gave you great access to his neck, where you were placing soft kisses against the skin.

“Y/N fuck.” He finally breathed out as he opened his eyes to look at you.

You smiled at him

You switched positions so you were now straddling his thighs as you started to kiss him. Your body is thrumming with need as his hands are playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nod against him, answering an unspoken question as he slowly lifts the material up and over your head.

You feel shy as he takes in your almost naked upper body.

You were glad you opted for a sleek black bra today.

His hands come around your body to unclasp the bra and once he gets it off he takes you in.

You sigh happily as you feel his lips explore your body.

His hands are wrapped around your waist holding you in place as he takes his time with you.

He slowly flicks your right nipple and you let out a high-pitched whine as you can feel him grin against your skin.

You start to grind against him as he licks and sucks your nipples. Wetness pools against your underwear as you grind harder against his thigh, desperate to relieve some of the throbbing.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as he motions to your leggings.

You stand up on shaky legs and nod as he peels them down your thighs.

He sucks in a breath as he takes you in.

“Should we go to your room?” He asks cocking an eyebrow as you nod and he lifts himself from the couch. His cock already starting to harden again as you make your way to your room and shut the door.

You turn on your bedside lamp and flop on the bed as Jungkook settles between your open thighs.

He can see the wetness that has stained your underwear and groans under his breath.

You waste no time in taking them off and throwing them in the room. Jungkook's eyes widen as he takes in your soaked core.

“Jungkook. Please.” You whine out desperate for him to do something.

Jungkook takes his time running his hands up and down your thighs as you spread yourself wider for him.

He moves his hands to rub along your lower stomach and you whine and buck your hips up, your core throbbing almost uncomfortably at this point.

“What do you want baby?” He asks.

“You. Please. Touch me.” You whine out as his fingers finally dip down into your folds and a broken moan escapes your lips as he brings your wetness up to your clit.

“Here?” He asks and you nod desperately as he begins to slowly circle your clit.

His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he rubs you slowly. His touch is feather-light and almost hesitant which has you wining out for more.

“Jungkook. More pressure. Harder please.” You beg as he speeds up his movements, which have you arching off the bed, eyes rolling back and hands grasping at the sheets below.

He works at a steady pace. You can feel your legs start to shake as he slowly pushes a finger against your entrance. Starting at you for permission.

You nod frantically and when he finally inserts a finger you both swear in unison as your tight walls clamp around his digit.

“More. If you're gonna fuck me I'm gonna need more.” You reply as he slowly shoves in another finger and you feel the slight burn as your body stretches to accommodate him.

Jungkook takes his time working you. His finger still playing with your clit as he slowly thrusts his other fingers inside of you.

Whines and moans are spilling from your lips as you feel a tight coil of pressure snake around your body.

You can feel the beginning of your orgasm and you beg him for more.

He does as he's told and begins to finger fuck you with more force. Which has your body arching off the bed and your knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets harder.

“Cum for me princess. Cum around my fingers.” He mutters as you feel the coil get tighter and tighter. You are on the edge and when he curls his fingers and rubs up against the spot inside you so nicely you let go.

Your body thrashes on the bed as you tip over the edge and cum hard all over his fingers. Jungkook works you through it whispering sweet praise which you can hardly hear over the blood pounding in your ears as you feel euphoria radiate off your body.

He feels you coming down from your high and pulls his fingers out. Not really sure what to do with the wetness he decides to lick it up which has a small moan leaving your lips as you watch him with lust-blown eyes.

Once he is finished he cuddles beside you, just as you did for him as he strokes your hair and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you come down.

Your hands are shaky as you curl up next to him. Burying your face in his bare chest letting your breathing settle.

“Fuck. Are you sure you've never done that before?” You ask as he lets out a laugh and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“I think you're a liar Jeon Jungkook. There is no way you haven't done that before. What the fuck.” You whine out as you lift your head to look at him.

He is grinning widely and you still stare at him in disbelief.

“That was my first time. And god you were so hot.” He replies as you stare into his eyes, taking him in wanting to remember this moment.

“Still wanna fuck you though.” He mutters lowly as he grinds his now hard cock into your side, you grin at him before leaning over to your bedside table and grabbing a condom and lube.

He sits up and watches as you tear open the packet. Your hands slightly shaking with nerves as you roll it down on his hard cock.

You apply lube and spread it evenly trying to calm your own breathing.

“How do you want it?” You ask

“I…shit however you want it. Whatever is easiest. I just wanna be inside you.” Jungkook replies as you feel your pussy throb at his words.

“Maybe I'll be on top. Just to get used to your size. You're fucking massive.” You groan as Jungkook's cock twitches against your hand.

“Told you you can't say shit like that.”

You throw a leg over him as you guide his cock to your entrance.

His breathing is already heavy as you slowly sink down, letting the head of his cock slip in and stretch you out.

Even though he did prep you the sting is still there as you sink down on him. Taking your time and taking deep breaths as you go.

He is stroking your hair and breathing deeply as you finally take him all the way down. You shift your hips back slightly to get more comfortable and Jungkook lets out a grunt as his hands come down to rest on your hips holding you steady.

You still your movements and stare at him.

His eyes were blown wide and his lips parted. As if he can't believe this is happening.

You can't believe it's happening yourself.

You feel full to the brim with his cock as you wait for your body to adjust. You can't help but squeeze against him which has him whining and gripping your hips harder.

“You're so tight. Fuck.” He moans out as you bury your face in his neck and let out a shaky breath.

You slowly start to move up and down, trying to get used to the delicious stretch as you keep your face pressed into his neck, pressing hot kisses against the skin as you slowly grind against him.

“Fuck feels s'good.” He slurs out as you begin to pick up the pace, finally feeling the burn start to subside which was replaced with a neediness that you had never experienced before

Jungkook shifts his hips and starts fucking up into you. The tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot and causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“Fuck you're so wet. So tight. Fuck. Shit.” He grits out as he fucks up into you with more force this time. You grind down to meet his thrusts as moans spill from both his and your lips.

You feel the coil of pressure start to build and you know you aren't going to last long.

Not with the sounds Jungkook is making

Not with the way he is thrusting up into you

Not with the way the bed is thumping against the wall.

“Can I go harder?” He asks and you nod desperately as in one swift moment he flips you both over and pins you against the bed.

You let out a gasp as you watch him fuck into you. His hips snapped to meet yours, grunts and moans falling from his lips as he chases his high.

His hair is falling into his face and he never looked more beautiful.

You could feel your orgasm fast approaching and you snaked your arm between your sweaty bodies as you scrambled to find your clit.

Jungkook was fucking you deeply. His balls were slapping against you and by the sounds that were spilling from his mouth you could tell he was close too.

“Not gonna last much longer. Y/N. Fuck.” He moaned out as you rubbed your clit and just his words sent you over the edge.

You whined and arched your body up to his as your orgasm washed over you. Your pussy clenched around his cock as you rode out your high. Your eyes were shut tight and you could still feel Jungkook thrusting up into you as you clenched harder around him.

“Gonna cum, need to cum.” He whined in your ear as you finally came down from your high and watched as he fucked you harder.

His hands prying your legs open wider as he rammed into you.

Your body was still sensitive from your orgasm as you watched him, not being able to tear your eyes away from how hot he looked.

“Cum for me Kook. Be a good boy and cum deep in my pussy.” You whined out as that sent him over the edge and you felt his cock twitch and empty inside the condom.

You did your best to squeeze your muscles as your body milked his.

Jungkook flopped down on top of you with ragged breathing as you both came down from your high.

You stoked his hair as he laid on your chest, cock now softening inside of you as you stared up at the ceiling.

Felling good.

Feeling very well fucked.

He slowly pulled out of you and you whined as he sat up to throw the condom away.

You went to the bathroom and came back with a warm towel as you cleaned the both of you up.

As you were cleaning around the base of his now soft cock Jungkook grabbed your hand.

“Y/N I like you. I like you a lot. Please be my girlfriend.” He asked staring up at you.

You threw the towel at your hamper and cuddled next to him, naked bodies intertwined.

“Thought you'd never ask.” You said pressing a kiss to his temple before you both fell into a post-orgasmic sleep.

[peachdues]

GASOLINE ON FIRE

COMPASS ONE-SHOT • bad boy!Sanemi x Reader

A/N: a one-shot from my bad boy!Sanemi gang AU fic, Compass featuring Sanemi and Reader’s first kiss. It technically happened off-page in the first Chapter, so I thought I’d share it with you all now because I’m such a sap for these two.

CW: 1.7k • MDNI • mentions of explicit sexual content • mentions of masturbation • Sanemi’s been thinking about Reader in fun ways • first kiss • fluff/light angst

READ COMPASS HERE

You’re both seated on your floor, pizza box sitting in front of you, half-empty, alongside a couple of empty, discarded beer bottles.

“I’ve never had sex,” you blurt, prompting Sanemi to choke on his gulp of beer.

“What?”

You pause in bringing your own bottle to your lips to glare at him. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“I’m not,” Sanemi wipes his lips. “Who gives a shit about that — I mean, where did that come from?”

You take a long, pointed sip of your beer before setting it back down, drawing your knees up to your chest. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Isn’t it weird that I haven’t? We’re both twenty-one — but I’ve never even had a serious relationship, much less had sex.”

That surprises him. He’d thought about your days in school more than he’d be willing to admit ever since he chose your bookstore to hide in all those months ago. He’s devoted countless hours to wracking his brain, trying to recall every minute detail about you, in a concerted effort to figure out why the fuck he didn’t approach you sooner.

But he’d found that he couldn’t quite recall, and maybe that’s because he never had an excuse.

Still, you seem like you should have had at least the opportunity for love. After all, Sanemi can’t imagine someone worthier of it.

You’re staring at him, now, expectant, and Sanemi distracts himself by reaching for his own beer bottle to inspect it. “’S not weird,” he says after a moment. “You’re young. You’ve barely been out in the world.”

“But you‘ve done it,” you push, taking another swig of your drink.

Sanemi nods with a chuckle, setting his now-empty bottle down. “Yeah, yeah I have.”

You refuse to meet his eyes as you mumble, “And you like doing it.”

“Is that what the rumors say?” He asks drily, concealing his faint grimace by reaching for another beer.

“I don’t care about the rumors. I’m trying to make a point, here,” you scowl, finally lifting your gaze back to him. “I want to do it. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Noted.”

“I want you to fix it.”

His hand halts midair before it can reach the last unopened bottle, and he turns to stare dumbly at you.

You must be joking — or you’re drunk. In either event, there’s no fucking way you’re serious.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it — extensively, for that matter. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it just as badly as you seem to — arguably, even more so, given that he can’t stop thinking about it.

He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that he thinks of you that way often — so much so that he hasn’t been able to get laid in at least two months, because he couldn’t stop picturing you when he was with his designated fling of the evening.

Hell, he’d only been able to get off that last time because he stopped fighting the images in his head. Ones that involved that flirty sundress you loved wearing pulled down to expose your breasts, bouncing as you rode him, or the blush on your cheeks he imagined would form when he settled between your thighs, mouth lowering to steal a taste of what he could only assume was paradise.

Since then, the only thing Sanemi has been fucking is his own hand. And damn, if those little images of you didn’t keep sneaking into his subconscious. And though he always managed to cum fast and hard whenever those fantasies bled into his mind, Sanemi also was left to feel nothing but shame afterward as he wiped his hand and abdomen clean, guilt hanging heavily over his head for thinking of you in such a way.

For daring to think you might want him at all.

But now, here you were, looking at him with all the hopeful expectancy in the world. As though he has anything worth offering you.

Sure, Sanemi knew you were likely asking him to do it for practicality’s sake. You were a virgin and you wanted not to be anymore. And he was there, your only friend, and he was someone known for being rather unrestrained when it came to matters of the bedroom (or, anywhere that offered semi-privacy, for that matter).

He was a convenience; nothing more.

Did that stop him from considering it? Of course not. He was yours to use as much as you wanted, as far as he was concerned. But he’d assumed his usefulness stopped at being an ear to listen to; a companion — not because of anything you did, but because Sanemi had never felt like he held much value outside of what he could do for others.

And really, being used for this purpose — by you, no less — wasn’t too bad of an idea, all things considered.

But he can’t; he won’t. Part of him wants you to save that piece of yourself for someone who deserves it; deserves you. And that sure as shit isn’t him.

Part of him is also acutely aware that you’re tipsy and thus, the boundaries of your consent are blurry, and Sanemi would rather eat and shit glass than dilute them further.

But another part of him hesitates because he knows that if he does give in — gives you what you both want — that he’ll only further distort what remains of the lines he’s drawn in the sand. Lines, he sternly reminds himself, that are not just his means of protecting you, but rules that he is bound to obey as an extension of the Corps.

Don’t get attached.

And yet, he can’t help but wonder; can’t stop his traitorous heart from swelling, or his mind from running with the faint possibility of what life might be like if he just said yes.

What would it be like to be close to you? To hold you, kiss you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear he’d never told anyone else, but had secretly always longed to share? Would you moan or sigh his name? And if he was graced with the chance to see you fall apart — how would you look? Would you cry out, or would your mouth fall open in a silent o, your pleasure so intense that it stole the very breath from your lungs?

Never mind wanting and being wanted in return — what would it be like to have?

You rest your chin on your arms, eyes fixed on him, waiting, and Sanemi feels himself nearly break right there.

It’s nearly impossible to turn you down in a way that won’t hurt your feelings, but he has to. He has no choice.

He never has.

“Sorry, Princess. Don’t think that’s the best idea.” He reaches over to flick your nose before adding, “Plus, you’re a bit too tipsy.”

He hopes that his disappointment isn’t too evident on his face as he watches you; hopes that you cannot see the way his heart cracks under his own self restraint.

Thankfully, you drop your head onto your arms with a groan, concealing your face in your alcohol-tinged shame.

To his dismay, your obvious letdown punches at that soft part of his heart he’s reserved for you. His mouth goes dry. The idea blooms in his head and he’s acting before he can stop himself.

Just a taste. He swears. Just a taste. A little indulgence, so you know his reticence has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that he isn’t worth it.

“Hey.”

You roll your head to the side to peer shyly at him, a pretty blush still staining your cheeks.

“Come here.”

You lift your head from your arms then, cocking it in a question that Sanemi decides to answer by crooking his fingers under your chin and leaning in.

The kiss he shares with you is soft; measured. Your lips feel like silk against his, and it strikes him that never before has he kissed anyone with so much tenderness. The few kisses he exchanged with his flavors of the night were always sharp, bruising clashes of lips and teeth, each party more focused on sating their own needs rather than tending to that of the other.

Then again, Sanemi never felt this way toward those serving as his temporary distractions. He never thought of them as something precious; something to be adored, the way he does you.

You don’t move your arms from where they’re folded atop your knees, and for that, Sanemi is grateful. He knows that were you to move your hands to cup his face or even tangle in his hair, he would lose whatever thread of self control he possessed when it came to you.

So, Sanemi continues to kiss you slowly; indulgently. He never lets himself deepen it, never lets his tongue flick out along the seam of your lips in an effort to part them. He simply moves his lips with yours for a moment longer before he finally pulls away, though his fingers linger under your chin.

Only centimeters separate your mouth from his, and Sanemi can feel the sweet warmth of your breath as he whispers, “We should pick out a movie.”

You nod after a moment, still too stooped in the haze of his closeness to you. Reluctantly, Sanemi shifts away, his hand dropping from your chin. You don’t see how he flexes it over and over when you turn away to fidget with your remote, Sanemi unable to shake off the memory of your skin under his fingertips.

He watches the movie without really seeing it; his mind is far too preoccupied with replaying your kiss, over and over on a constant, never-ending loop.

He’d hoped that the small kiss would smother some of the fire that has been steadily consuming him over the last few months. A temporary respite to the near constant pang of longing he felt in his chest every time he looked at you.

What a stupid fucking idea that had been.

Because, as Sanemi sits beside you, limbs rigid under the incessant buzz thrumming in his veins, urging him to reach over and lay you back against the rug and make you his, he realizes your kiss was only a gallon of gasoline dumped directly over his fire.

And, judging by the way you keep your eyes fixed resolutely on the screen before you despite the persistent heat in your cheeks, Sanemi thinks you might be just as hungry for him as he is for you.

Oh, he’s fucked.

likes/reblogs/comments always appreciated!

[mingoooossii]

ATEEZ as tiny pocket persons.

warnings: none.

A/n: i had to get this off my system. i was dying imagining this yo.Well, hope u enjoy reading this nonetheless.

Ateez masterlist.

Hongjoong.

• he's quiet and reserved when he's in public.

• sometimes you even forget he's there cuz he's so quiet.

• he just be chilling.

• though once you're indoors, he gets goofy.

• you always tease him about it and he gets so red everytime.

• he has THE cutest smile EVER.

• he's so so so precious when he smiles that you'll do the most stupid shit just so u can see him smile.

• this is rare but at times he rambles about stuff that he's been interested in lately.

• and you love it when he does that. It's just so nice seeing him excited about something.

Seonghwa.

• calm and sweet.

• you know how u have like an angel and a devil on your shoulders?

• he's the angel (though his devil side shows itself once in a while 😇)

• he acts like your personal to do list like 'oh you forgot something for your grocery?' Well worry not, he has it all memorised.

• comforts you when u have a bad day.

• one time you bought him one of those mini lego sets and now, he bugs you to buy one every time a new one drops.

• and you do, every single time cuz you love him :) (and u love seeing him get so happy everytime u do)

Yunho.

• a little ball of sunshine.

• he always just peeks out from your pocket, greeting and waving at random people.

• he just emits positive energy.

• you cannot help but smile whenever he's around.

• he loves going outside to explore and try new things.

• though his favourite activity has to be when he games with you.

• he giggles whenever he wins a match.

• so at times you purposely let him win so you could hear his cute giggle.

Yeosang.

• he's a shy one and so CUTE😭

• no seriously you're always gushing over him cuz he's so cute and he gets so shy.

• literally the cutest sight ever.

• he's sweet and always helps you with stuff (though beware he can get quite fussy at times.)

• he love love LOVES it when you buy him little trinkets.

• his favourite is a little doberman keychain thingy that you won for him at a claw machine.

• shows it off every chance he gets.

• he's adorable.

San.

• he's like a cat.

• he acts more like a cat than an actual cat.

• he's always around you.

• if he's not in your pocket then he's on your hand, your shoulder or just anywhere near you.

• also loud.

• he gets loud and giggly when he's happy which is, all the time.

• so if it's a little too quiet around you, then you know something's wrong.

• he's pouty when he's upset. He gets even more clingy, if that's possible.

• also possessive.

• death glares anyone who tries to be a lil too close to you.

• but it's okay, he calms down after you pat his head a little. Que a smiley San!

Mingi.

• he's a clumsy one.

• one time he almost fell out of your pocket because he couldn't sit still.

• infinite energy.

• he's always dancing and singing or just jumping around when he's happy.

• you can't go outside without him drawing people's attention :)

• so you bought him one of those small squishy plushies and he LOVES it.

• he moves around a lot less now as he's always hugging the plushie.

• brings it with him literally everywhere he goes cuz "you bought it for me!" he says.

Wooyoung.

• loud and giggly.

• extra emphasis on loud because seriously, the house is never quiet.

• he's always giggling or just rambling about random stuff.

• what a cutie.

• possessive pt.2

• he's very VERY possessive.

• one time bro almost bit someone's finger cuz they accidentally touched you 😭

• chaotic.

• do NOT leave him alone with San or Mingi.

• he will wreck havoc.

• he also LOVES affection. He'll be hugging you the moment he gets a chance.

• also quite sassy.

• he WILL sass you if u were to do something stupid but it's okay, he still loves you.

Jongho.

• another quiet one.

• he's acts tough and quiet when you're out in public but gets giggly once you're inside.

• he tells you about random things he learnt or something he finds fascinating.

• and it is pretty interesting.

• a prankster.

• he pranks you at times and laughs his ass off cuz u fall for it every. single. time!

• also a good listener.

• he always knows when you're having a bad day and listens to ur vents.

• If you don't wanna talk abt it, that's fine too. He has great advice.

• he's not too prone to affection but he'll hug you once in a while when u least expect it.

• he's too cute 😞

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

Hey, can you write a story about Evan Buckley and Reader announcing that she’s pregnant to the 118 at like a family gathering :)

🍄 Pairing: Evan Buckley x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: At a 118 family gathering, Buck's overprotective nature reveals a little more than the two of you had planned.

🍄 Word Count: 1618

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: Pregnancy, implied pregnancy complications

🍄 Note: I really liked this request Anon! I hope this is what you were looking for. I thought about this scenario and I instantly imagined Buck accidentally announcing the pregnancy rather than planned. If you would rather a planned version, just pop in another request. A similar request came from @quinnstan247. Enjoy :)

You could feel the eyes following you closely as you slipped into the kitchen to refill your glass of orange cordial. Your overprotective, puppy-dog boyfriend remained outside in the garden of the Nash household along with the rest of the team as they stood around Bobby and the BBQ grill. You knew that Buck was searching for any reason he could to follow you inside, but you met his gaze through the windows and offered him a reassuring smile that seemed to subdue him for the minute.

Since the second you found out, Buck had been glued to your side. It had been three weeks since you took that test, since your doctor had confirmed it and in that time you had, had to convince him every single day that he could leave you and go to work. Every day he fought you, wanting the both of you to stay home so you could rest and he could wait on your every want and need, but you couldn’t do that. You were only thirteen weeks along and there was hardly any reason to be confined to the bed just yet. You knew that he was only concerned about the safety of you and the peach you currently carried in your womb. It was endearing and one of the sweetest things you’d ever seen, you hadn’t thought that Buck could get any sweeter, but here you were one act away from having a mouth full of cavities.

What hadn’t helped was that Buck had been responding to a number of pregnancy calls in the past few weeks a few resulting in sadder endings than anyone wanted. They had definitely struck a chord with Buck and had only made him hover all the more.

Adding the water to your cordial, you took a sip of the orange, a light buzz filling your taste-buds. You had become obsessed with anything orange flavoured since your pregnancy diagnosis. Whether it was orange skittles (which Buck had kindly sat and sorted out for you), or orange flavoured chocolate, or even the orange flavoured cupcakes you had found at the grocery store and ate within an hour of buying, anything orange and you were all for it.

Walking back into the garden, your entire body seemed to clench a little as you stepped back into the gaze of the sun. As much as you were enjoying this down time with the 118, it was so hot. The heatwave had only hit LA in the past few days but already it was in full swing and you were feeling every beam of it.

“Y/n,” you turned over to where Athena was sat with Hen and her daughter May. The three of them were stood around the mini bar that Athena had installed, in direct sunlight. Already hot, you fought down the urge to grimace as you moved to stand by them, the sun glaring on your skin. “We were just telling May about Buck and that kiddie ride at the mall. She doesn’t believe us.” Hen informed and a grin split across your lips, taking your mind off of the sweltering heat.

“Oh my, God. I have a photo, hang on,” You pulled your phone out of your shoulder bag and set your drink on the bar, thumb flicking through the many photos in your gallery in search of the one from the Saturday before. “He thought it was funny and I tried to tell him he wouldn’t fit but he insisted,” You giggled and turned your phone for May to see. “I honestly thought I’d have to call nine-one-one.”

Displayed across your screen was the photo that still had you giggling a week later. There sat Buck, who had squeezed his way into the small metal bus which was obviously aimed for children 7 and under. But Buck had twisted his body at all kinds of angles and had somehow managed to worm his way into the ride. His head was poked out of the door hole, his legs curled up against his chest, unable to stretch out in the tiny space that his body was occupying.

What Athena and the others didn’t know was that Buck wouldn’t have gotten into the ride if it wasn’t for you. That morning your hormones had been playing you like a fiddle and every little thing had upset you, the bin bag had broken when you were trying to change it out for a new one, somehow a red sock had slipped in with your whites and now everything you owned was slightly toned pink and they had shown that advert with the puppy sat in a box, in the rain, on the side of the street with people walking past ignoring it. It seemed, that morning, that everything was stacked against you. Buck had offered to come with you to the mall so you could pick up your clothing order from a store, you had ordered certain items that they didn’t have in stock and they had delivered into the store the day before. You were buzzing to see the new pair of pumps you had ordered. You knew that in a few months if not weeks, the shoes would probably be pressing against the sides of your feet and ankles because of the pregnancy swelling, but that hadn’t stopped you from ordering them in your size. However, like everything else that morning, even that didn’t go as planned. The shoes had been delivered in the wrong colour and in a size smaller than you wanted, making them impossible to wear. Buck had seen how disheartened you had been when you left the store, trying not to cry in frustration. He had wanted to do something to cheer you up and in a joking manner he had made a bet with you that he could fit inside the kiddie bus ride.

It had definitely succeeded in cheering you up, if not from how silly he looked, his large muscular frame curled up inside the ride, from when he got stuck and couldn’t get himself out straight away. You had done what you could to help him out, but you were giggling so hard your entire body went weak. When he had finally gotten out, the two of you had continued to giggle all the way home and your mood had been lifted for the rest of the day.

“Oh, my God,” May giggled. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Please send me that!” she begged.

“Of course,” you agreed with a laugh of your own. “I could never gate keep on a photo like this.”

“What made him get in there?”

“It’s Buck, does he need a reason?” Hen scoffed. As the ladies continued to giggle, the heat seemed to make it’s presence known as it glared down onto you. The side of your temples was beginning to throb and your skin was starting to get slick and sticky, sweat oozing from your pores. You raised a hand to swipe at your brow, glancing around the garden for the closest seat, your legs aching.

As you moved towards one of the sun loungers, your boyfriend’s eyes caught onto your movements, already on high alert.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked, abandoning his drink at the grill and rushing towards you, one arm slipping around your waist to help guide you to the seat.

“Buck, I’m-”

“Dammit, it’s too hot out here for you. We should’ve cancelled,” he began muttering to himself. “Are you dizzy? Do you need a drink of water? What about something to eat? Is your blood sugar low? What if you’re dehydrated?” The only thing making you dizzy was the hurricane of questions Buck was sending your way, not even leaving a chance for you to answer them. One of his hands instinctively came to rest on the front of your stomach.

“Babe? Baby?” You tried to pull Buck out of his panicked rant, his eyes not once meeting yours as he kept scanning you for any visible injuries. Not that there were any, but the paranoia was getting the best of him and the heat probably wasn’t helping.

“We should get you in the shade,” he decided. “Shit, you should’ve stayed inside. You’re carrying precious cargo now, baby. You and peach can’t take this heat. We shouldn’t have come. This is all my fault-”

“Buck!” You pressed your hands to the sides of his face, directing his eyes to yours so you could try and ground him. “Buck, baby, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just a little hot and tired that’s all. It’s normal.” He still seemed a little uncertain, and his eyes held a lifetime of worry for you and his unborn child. “We’re okay. I promise.” You offered him a reassuring smile, your thumb coming to brush against his bottom lip rhythmically, giving him something to focus on. His eyelids pressed shut as he breathed slowly for a second.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause we can go home-”

“We’re fine. I just need to sit for a minute that’s all.” You peeked over his shoulder. “While I’m sitting, we should probably talk to the people behind you, they seem a little shocked. You kind of let the cat out of the bag.” Buck twisted his head to look around at the team behind him, everyone stood, jaws dropped and eyes wide. Eddie was the most comical of the bunch, his glass halfway raised to his mouth ready to take a sip but frozen in time with the news that Buck had unintentionally shared.

“H-Hey, guys,” He chuckled awkwardly with a sheepish grin. “I guess we have some news to share.”

[mikichko]

i have another gaz thought…

this was inspired by @buttdumplin so blame him for the debauchery

mdni. unedited :)

there’s no way you’re seeing things right.

the sun shines brightly, no cloud in the sky, no shadow on the grounds below but you swear you’ve got to be seeing things. you must be. it’s the only logical explanation.

because there’s no way that your awfully kind and incredibly handsome neighbor would put himself in this situation.

at first glance, he’s not doing anything wrong. just lounging by the complex pool, his smooth dark skin on display, with a book in hand. he even matched his sunglasses and swim shorts to round out his look.

it’s on second glance, when you let your eyes trail over him and linger that you notice it. how his shorts do little to hide anything, no imagination needed. especially not when his girthy long cock strains against the thin material.

he’s got his right leg splayed open, the meat of his inner thigh to the sun, with his left leg stretched out in front of him. you can see right where the base of him starts, the fat of his balls accentuated by the way the fabric is pulled taut against them. you can trace the curve of his cock, tucked along the inside of his thigh. down, down, down until there’s something peeking out and something wet against-

you immediately look away as the realization dawns on you. you’re sure he can’t seen you, the glare of the sun too fierce to see into your apartment, but your hands still tremble. you feel the ache between your legs as you make sense of what you saw. try to figure out why there was a single patch of wetness on your neighbor’s thigh while the rest of him was bone dry.

how the fuck are you supposed to focus on work now?

———

gaz knows his pretty thing keeps their desk along their window. likes the way the natural light warms them up while their coffee wakes them up.

he also knows they love to stare out their window . loves to watch the wind ruffle the trees, the way the city moves, how the people act. and with such a lovely view of their pool, gaz might as well give them something to look at, right? he’d be a bad neighbor if he didn’t

it takes a few weeks to choose the right spot for him to lounge. some are too close, angled such a way where they can’t watch him. others too far, they’d miss the important details they need to see. finally, he finds the spot. right in the line of sight of their window, it’ll let them see everything he wants them to.

he starts off small, just lounging head thrown back towards the sun, but he hates that. he can't see them. he settles for an incline next, but with no glasses he's sure they’ll see how his eyes don't stray from them at all. how can they when he can see how the waistband digs into their skin in a way that has his tongue running over his teeth. he wants to bite, sink into their soft flesh.

finally he sets himself up with the glasses and book. holding it so that he’s able to look right over the edge of the page and stare straight through their window. so he can watch the sweet thing he’s been stuck on since he bumped into them in the lobby.

its a wonder it takes you so long to notice his reaction to you. gaz isn’t sure how you’ve gone so long without noticing when just the thought of you watching him has the blood flow redirecting. how his dick twitches at the thought of the pool. the way he leaks when he’s in the chair setting himself up for you.

he blames it on the shorts. too practical, too concealing. he’s not here for any of that, he’s here for you to see him. to see the outline of his pretty cock. the one he’ll be driving into you if he plays his cards right.

so he gets to fixing that right away. his shorts loose a few centimeters every time he’s at the pool, excitement bubbling up as he notices the way your eyes trail over him. always so polite and proper like you don’t want to intrude on his privacy. completely unaware to the fact this whole moment is being entirely curated for you.

his dick is straining before he even gets to the pool. he can feel the fabric digging into the fat of his ass and the seam rubbing along his head, already aiding the drip of slick from it. he’s tingling with the anticipation, dying to know what you’ll do when you see him.

he picks a “casual” position, especially chosen so thar his shorts can ride up to expose him. so that you can see the way he drips for you. squeezes his balls just a little before he settles so that his dick can drip a little more. enough so that it pools on his thigh.

he twitches when he noticed how long you’re staring. the way your eyes slowly make your way over his body after holding out for so long. can see the exact moment you see his shorts with the way your eyes widen and your mouth opens slightly. knows you’re tracing the length of him when your eyes drift downward and you lick your lips. and when your pretty eyes stop and your tongue catches in the corner of your mouth he knows you’ve spotted it. how he weeps at the thought of being buried in you.

you turn too quickly. hand trembling as you reach for your water bottle. he can see how you adjust yourself, drinking water, turning your little desk fan. all in an attempt to keep yourself looking dignified.

but gaz know’s he’s finally pushed enough to break past your facade. it’s just a matter of time before he has you under him, trembling.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 3

cw: the ocean, almost drowning, kidnapping, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 5k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

On your first day of work, you were already regretting not pushing harder to get your siren to promise you he would stay away, glimpses of a snaking tail under the water every few hours stopping your heart for a beat every time. 

You ignored your first sighting, reporting into the office, getting a list of duties and of expected intake for the day. 

You asked when you’d be paid, part of you worried he’d say at the end of the month and you’d be stuck without a place to stay for weeks. You let out a sigh of relief when he said at the end of the week. Only two more days then. You could manage two more days. You were sent off on your way without much else said. 

No one was assigned to help you, to figure out what you were supposed to do or how to start, so you did the only thing you could think of. You went and found Finn.

His face lit up the second he saw you, dropping the box he was holding to run over to your side. 

“Hello little lady, how’s your first day going?”

You glanced back at the discarded cargo. “Do you not need to get that?”

“Is this going to take long? Okay, you probably want help, I’ll be right back.”

He rushed over to the dropped box that at the very least didn’t look like it had been damaged and hauled it over to a safer location, amidst some other unpacked boxes. 

He was back at your side before the incredulous huff of laughter managed to escape you, giving you a sheepish look. “Sorry if I’m overeager, we don’t get many pretty girls out here, I’ve gotta try and help you before someone else snatches you up.”

You gave him a humoring laugh, more polite than anything. 

You had a feeling your intentions with one another did not align, but he seemed pleasant and helpful and whatever his intentions happened to be, you could use that right about now. 

And he held true to his word. For the rest of the day, he helped you figure out your various duties, largely abandoning his own, only occasionally popping out to make excuses or run and do something that others laughed and insisted really couldn’t wait. 

The day passed quickly. The work wasn’t particularly hard, just repetitive. Finn did his best to help but once you realized he couldn’t read, it became a little more difficult. 

He still hovered over your shoulder, something that you appreciated but had the unintended consequence of you having to struggle to pull his attention every time you caught another flash of scales out of the corner of your eye. 

They seemed particularly likely to appear whenever Finn set off from his latest task he was ignoring to help you again.

You bristled at the thought, trying to tell yourself you were making up patterns, that it wasn’t anything at all. 

At least you hoped you were. If it was a pattern, you were going to kill him. 

Even once you got the hang of things, Finn refused to actually leave you, insisting that it was improper to abandon you on your first day. You just smiled and continued on, set on getting everything done. First impressions were important after all, and you needed to look just as valuable as your sister had been. 

Before you knew it, the day was over and people had begun filing out. It wasn’t empty, the dock was never really empty, but it had quieted down and you finished the last of your work, marking everything down as neatly and perfectly as you could. 

“I can take that back for you!” Finn exclaimed as you carefully looked over your work for any glaring mistakes. He seemed excited to find something he could actually help you with. 

Part of you wanted to refuse, to take it back yourself, but he seemed too excited, refusing felt like kicking a puppy. Besides, you imagined he’d have a few kind words to say about you and that couldn't hurt. 

He came darting back over in minutes, that persistent, goofy smile plastered across his face as he skidded to a halt. “Mission accomplished, ma’am,” he said with a little salute. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, trying to push as much gratitude as you could into your voice.

“Now that that’s done, I was wondering if you wanted to go out or something. I could get you some drinks or food or whatever, celebrate your first day being over.”

There it was, exactly what you’d worried this had all been leading to. “Finn…”

Water came splashing up through the gaps in the wood on the dock, drenching the pair of you. 

You jumped, reflexively and far too late to save yourself from any of the water. 

As you looked through the slats, you could have sworn you saw the glint of scales. 

“Yes,” you blurted out, bringing Finn’s attention back to you. “That sounds great.”

You gave him what felt like a poor approximation of an excited smile. 

“Really? That’s amazing. The ocean seems to have something to say about it. She’s nervous, poor girl. Promise I won’t leave you behind.” He spoke down to the waves, attempting to lighten the mood as he saw your face go white in your newly wetted skirts. 

You smiled, your heart hammering in your ears, and after another quiet little bit of reassurance, he scurried off, telling you to stay put while he found a coat he’d discarded earlier in the hot sun and promptly forgotten about, and then you could be off.

Simon, you guessed that was what you were calling him now, decided that was an opportune time to breach the surface of the water and look up at you with those big, golden eyes. 

An anger that had been simmering quietly inside of you at every flash of scales you’d seen throughout the day came to a head as he had the audacity to simply appear like this. “Go away,” you hissed, the words coming out louder than you meant them to. 

This wasn’t like the day before. You knew Finn would be back any moment, you didn’t have time to argue on the shore. 

He remained resolutely above the water, looking up at you with a determination that almost frightened you set across his impish features. 

When he opened his mouth, you held your hands out, trying to tell him to stop, that it wasn’t safe. 

And then he started speaking and your hands fell limp to your sides, warning him not seeming quite so important anymore. 

The words sounded different. Maybe he was singing? It was hard to tell. You couldn’t even make out the words, couldn’t understand any of it. All you knew was that he was there. Why were you all the way up here? You should be down there with him. Maybe then you could understand. 

Whatever noises he was making, ones you were too far away to really hear, wormed their way right through your ears into your head, snaking their way around inside you, taking up the space where your thoughts were moments ago. 

There was nothing but him. 

Everything else faded away until all you could see was amber eyes. 

And then, walking carefully and intentionally, you tumbled into the water, seemingly of your own accord. 

The second you hit the icy water, the warm calm you’d been pulled into dissipated. You weren’t sure if it was the shock of the water or your head going under, no longer able to hear the hypnotic noises from the siren you’d thought was harmless. At least to you. 

And what a foolish notion that was. He was a siren. It didn't matter if he'd saved you or not, of course he was dangerous. You weren’t special to him. Why would you be?

As you tried to come up for air his arms met your shoulders and pushed you deeper and you realized, horrifically, just how wrong you’d been. 

You didn’t understand why he did what he’d done, why he’d helped you before. Maybe he’d just been playing with his food, toying with you until he got bored. 

Your mind newly cleared, you fought to swim up. As you did, his tail wound around your legs and you saw a pout break out across his face. 

Panic rose in your chest and he watched, head tilted, examining you carelessly, with your legs still bound together under the water. 

He looked at you, eyes big and bright and expectant, flicking across your face as he tried to fight back a smile. 

You struggled and his hand grasped yours, keeping it in place, effortlessly keeping you under the waves. The bright look in his eyes shifted to confusion, seeming baffled as to why you’d rather breach the surface than steal a kiss from him and let the cold water invade your lungs. 

As he stared expectantly and confused at you, you wiggled just enough to free one leg, something he seemed unconcerned with as he continued to hold you under. He knew he was stronger than you, that you had no real shot of escape. You both did. 

That didn’t matter to you. You brought your knee up as swiftly and firmly as you could in the cold water that forced a horrible, sluggish feeling into your limbs, and kneed him right in his gills. 

That seemed to activate some instinct in him and he wrapped entirely around you, effortlessly countering you at every point of struggle. They were the movements of a practiced hunter. 

You kicked and fought and made every attempt to break away and breach the surface but he was too strong, too practiced at this. At holding people down. 

You wondered how you matched up to them, how hard you fought compared to his other prey, if he’d remember this at all once you were gone?

At some point in the struggle you must have kissed, in the loosest sense of the word. You missed it in the flurry of movement, just another brush of skin against skin in the struggle. It must have happened though because as your lungs burned just a bit too much and your brain forced you to inhale, you didn’t choke on water but instead felt the burning soothe and your instincts calm, despite the salt water flooding inside you. 

Regardless of your newfound ability to breathe, the fight and lack of oxygen had weakened you and your struggle slowed. 

As it did, he rose to the surface

When you breached the waves, the dock was nowhere in sight. You had no idea when in your fight he’d dragged you out to sea or how far you’d gone. 

“You can breathe,” he said, looking at you with that same quiet confusion as when you’d fought against him. “I made sure you could breathe. Why do you still worry?”

You inhaled in an attempt to answer him with a screamed admonishment and then, before a word could escape you, you were coughing up water

He sat patiently as you did, his arms wrapped carefully around you. 

The last time you’d coughed up water like this, you’d been too relieved to be alive to really notice it. You did not have that luxury this time. The saltwater burned coming up, your lungs feeling heavy in your chest as the water poured out of you. 

It felt like you were dying. You didn’t understand how you weren’t. 

He didn’t seem concerned, just holding you as you fought to empty your lungs so you could finally inhale, every attempted inhalation just stirred the churning water in your lungs, agitating them further. 

As you finally emptied your lungs, you sucked in air. Your chest filled and it hurt more than it brought you relief. 

“You have to take me back,” you forced out, the burning in your lungs exhausting you past the point of screaming at him. 

His lips pursed into a pout and his eyes darted away from yours. “You don’t even like it there,” he said, sounding openly disappointed, not even attempting to hide it. But then, why would he? You were at his mercy, he could do whatever he wanted to. 

“I like it better than I like it here,” you said, gesturing around you at the open ocean. 

He looked around at the ocean surrounding you and then returned his gaze intently to your face. “I can take you somewhere else.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, you’d better not…”

And then he was off, swimming quickly through the waves. 

He kept your head above water carefully, although you still had to keep your mouth firmly shut to avoid inhaling anything, but even that didn’t slow him down. 

And then, with no warning, you were going down, back through thick water. You didn’t have a chance to gather your bearing before it was too dark to see anything, Simon’s grip on your arm was the only thing cutting through the cold black abyss around you. 

Your arm brushed against hard rock, scraping painfully before it was gone and you found yourself disoriented in the space around you once more. You could be surrounded by rock for all you knew, inches away from it. There was no way to tell, no way to really know anything about where you were being dragged. 

Your fight renewed as your air began to run out and the darkness still imposed itself around you. You knew better, knew you couldn’t get away. Even if you did, you didn’t even know which direction was up anymore. Your instincts, however, were not so easily suppressed by silly things like facts. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to kill you. Even more than that, as your time under the water dragged on, why he was going to kill you? Maybe you’d upset him, made an unforgivable mistake when you kicked him or complained just a little too much. The way it looked now, you guessed you’d never know. You didn’t have the oxygen left to figure it out, your brain starting to get foggy. 

And still, it continued. He dragged you down and down and then your head breached the surface and as you gasped in air, the word flipped right side up once more. 

You dragged air into your pleading lungs, this time no wretched water biting your throat as you did. 

Your lungs still hurt though. A quieter ache. 

Your eyes adjusted slowly to the dark and you could barely make him out in what appeared to be a cave, the moon shining in through a few holes riddled in the rock above you. 

“You could’ve killed me,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice. 

His head tilted. “No. I know how long it takes a human to drown. You were fine.”

His words did nothing to settle your unease

“Is this better?” he asked, gesturing around to the cave you’d approached from beneath. 

The water was just a small pool in a larger cave, leading off a few feet before revealing a glimpse of the outside world through the holes that let the light in. 

You hauled yourself out of the water to look and saw that there was no other way out, only the horrible, dark path through the water he’d taken you through. 

You couldn’t get out of here on your own. 

Even if you could, you had nowhere to go. There was probably just more open water outside these walls. Even if there was land, you had no idea where you were. 

You wondered if Finn was worried about you yet. Maybe he was. Or maybe he thought you’d abandoned him, left him alone on the dock in lieu of having to go out to dinner with him. 

You weren’t sure which you were hoping for, which was better for him to believe. Which would be easier to explain when you returned? If you returned. 

“You need to take me back,” you said, trying to force some authority into your tone. 

“Can I ask you some questions about humans?” he asked, completely ignoring you. 

“No,” you snapped. “You can’t. You can take me back.”

He drifted towards you and you pulled back further onto the patch of dry land. 

That seemed to hurt him, like he couldn’t understand why you would possibly be wary of him. 

He rested his head on the rocky shore, looking defeated, slowly drying blonde hair curling up around his eyes as it was freed of some of the weight of the water, and you fought to not think that if he hadn’t just done what he did to you, maybe he’d look sweet. 

“Who was that?” he blurted out, his head lifting with his words as his jaw moved against the stone below him. 

“What?”

“On the dock. He was talking to you, you were leaving with him. Who was that?”

“Who, Finn? Why do you-” A thought began to dawn on you. “His name is Finn. You hang around the dock, do you not know him?”

He shrugged in the water. “I’ve seen him.”

“And you care now? That’s kind of sudden.”

“I guess.”

“Alright. Did you kidn- Did you take me so I wouldn’t go with him.” You did your best to keep your voice measured in an attempt to get an honest response from him. 

“You’re supposed to go to the beach. You weren’t going to the beach.”

“No, you rejected my deal, remember? I thought I wasn’t going to the beach because you were just hanging around.”

He rolled his eyes just barely, enough to make a quiet irritation stir in your stomach. “Can’t talk to you when I’m around,” he said, matter of factly. “You said you’d go to the beach.”

“I know, but something came up. I’d have come back. I can’t miss one day?” you said, trying to reason with him. 

“One day? It was the first day!” he said with a huff. 

“I hadn’t even left yet, how did you know I wasn’t going to go meet you.”

“Were you?” he asked, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. 

“We’ll never know, will we? Because you decided to kidnap and almost drown me.”

“I didn’t almost drown you. I would never drown you.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Alright, well at the very least you decided to hurt me.” Sharp words bounced off the stone walls of the cave. 

His eyes widened. “I hurt you?”

“Yeah, of course you did. I couldn’t breathe. And that’s beside how bad coughing up sea water hurts.”

He shook his head. “You’re fine, why would it hurt?”

“Simon,” you said, “It hurts humans when we can’t breathe. And we aren’t meant to have to breathe water, it burns when I have to get it out.”

For someone who presumably had drowned dozens of humans, he seemed to have little idea how drowning actually felt. To be fair, he probably didn’t have many chances to learn about the human side of the experience, you didn’t imagine many survived long enough to tell him about it. 

“Oh,” he said, deflating a little. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Right, just to kidnap me.”

He nodded with no air of shame regarding his actions. “Yeah.”

You settled back against the wall of rock behind you, trying to think of what else you could say to get yourself out of there. 

He looked up at you and suddenly he seemed unbearably nervous. “You want to leave.”

“I thought we discussed this, I have to leave. I can’t just disappear, there are people waiting for me.”

“Finn,” he asked, saying the name like it tasted rotten in his mouth. 

“Yes, Finn. I told you, I can’t just disappear.”

You had to lean closer to him to hear his next words at all, his voice unbearably quiet. “It’ll hurt you.”

You slid back into the water beside him, hope sparking through you. “I’ll be fine, I just want to get out of here.”

His hands snaked around your sides, pulling you close to him. “Do you want to hold your breath or breathe the water?” You could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. You didn’t understand how breathing worked for him, where his lungs ended and his gills began. 

You shivered as you thought back to retching up the water, how it had burned coming up, how the attempted gasps felt inside already heavy lungs. “I’ll hold my breath.”

He nodded solemnly. “I will be fast.”

You sucked in a breath before he pulled you down, a luxury you had not been granted last time. 

He was true to his words. You could feel the water rushing past you as you held your breath, clinging to him the whole way. 

When you breached the surface, your lungs didn’t hurt quite as much as they had the first time around. His grip on you was tighter than when you’d arrived, a fear present in him that wasn’t before. 

Your hands were wrapped around his neck, the desire to get yourself away from him gone now that you were fairly certain he’d bring you back, even if he wasn’t happy about it. 

He brought you to the shore, a familiar spot.

Something occurred to you as you found yourself in shallow water. “How’d you even know where to take me? When you first found me, you took me right here.”

“I know where the ships are going. Always to the same spot.” He sounded almost annoyed at the ships’ predictability. 

“Well, they have to go to a dock.”

He grumbled in response, his discontent evident. You weren’t sure how much of it was from this grudge against ships and how much was because he’d had to bring you back to shore.  

You pulled yourself out of the water and wanted just sit there for a while, regain some of your energy. 

The second you hit dry land, Simon was gone, disappearing before you could say so much as another word to him. 

You didn’t really have time to talk or rest anyway, running back onto the dock as quickly as you could, hoping Finn hadn’t left yet. 

You found him standing alone on the dock, looking dejected right until his eyes drifted towards you. His eyes widened as they met yours and his expression shifted from surprise to concern, rushing towards you. 

“What happened?” he asked, pulling the jacket he’d run off to retrieve over your shoulders. “I thought you’d gotten bored and abandoned me but a swim at this time of day hardly seems like a good idea.”

“I fell in. Guess I’m more tired than I thought,” you said with a sheepish smile, hoping it was anything close to convincing. 

His hand drifted up to push wet hair away from your face. “I’m sure you’re not feeling up to going out anymore…”

“No,” you said, not thinking of Finn at all but instead set on rebelling against the attempts to stop you from going. It wasn’t fair to Finn, but by the time that occurred to you, you’d already spoken. “I mean, you waited all this time for me, it would be rude not to go.”

He seemed too excited to notice how suspicious you were being. “Alright, but make sure you’re not overextending yourself.”

You nodded with an unenthusiastic smile and let him lead you off to a tavern somewhere. 

It was a largely uneventful evening, all things considered. He bought you some soup, something nice and hot that you could feel in your bones, creating a comfortable warmth in your core. 

Your reticence to talk was barely noticed. Finn seemed more than happy to fill the silence, letting you bundle up under the thick wool of his coat and focus on your food. 

Before you knew it, it was gone and there was nothing left to distract yourself with. 

You waited for Finn to finish whatever story he’d been telling that you hadn’t been listening to and said, “This has been lovely, but I should be getting back.”

He laughed. “What, back to work? I’m not that boring, am I?”

You started as he pulled you fully out of your head back into the tavern. “What? No, of course not.”

“So where are you staying then?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Nowhere. I’ll find an inn after I get paid but until then-”

“You could stay with me!” he blurted out before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. 

You weren’t quite as enthused. “Look, Finn, I don’t…”

“This isn’t me trying to come onto you, honest. You shouldn’t have to stay out in the cold, it’s not right. I mean, no wonder you're tired. If you don’t get some proper sleep you’ll drown, and then who am I supposed to try and impress every day?”

It was most certainly untoward, but the offer was tempting nonetheless. 

You reevaluated Finn, trying to determine how much you really trusted him. Enough for dinner, sure, but enough for this?

You thought about spending another night alone on the cold shore and decided that yes, you did trust him enough for this. 

As soon as you nodded your assent, he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the stairs in the tavern. 

You couldn’t help but think that taking you to the tavern he was staying at felt presumptuous but the allure of a warm room and blankets were too strong for you to say anything to that effect. 

His room was decently sized, with a large bed pressed against the back wall. Reassuringly, he started to set up a space on the floor for you, moving some blankets from a chair in the corner to the floor. 

To your chagrin, he began to settle into the nest of blankets on the ground and you immediately moved to set it right. 

“Absolutely not, you will not sleep on the floor in your own room.”

He looked up at you with big, sad eyes. “But-”

“No buts, I will leave.”

He sighed. “Fine. But know that I’m not happy about it.”

You settled onto the floor and he slid another blanket off the bed onto you. You accepted it without argument, allowing him this at least. Besides, you were in no state to be turning down blankets. 

It was late and the blankets helped against your still damp form. The calm itself was refreshing and you fought the urge to thank Finn, who seemed like he’d already drifted off to sleep since you’d begun to settle down. 

You had no choice but to try and follow him. 

You slept restlessly but at least you slept.