#I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m not doing enough and even when I am that it just simply doesn’t matter.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

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“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[l-starsz]

Billie convincing reader to let her eat her pussy on her period

I'm inlove with your fics, you're such a damn good writer 🫶🏽🫶🏽

a/n: this probably isn’t great because i’m SOOO tired and my head is pounding rn but i hope it’s good at least🥲 and thank you so much ml!! i’m so sorry this took ages for me to write🫶

billie and i were laying in bed together, watching a movie. her back was resting against the comfy pillows on our bed, whilst my back was resting against her front. i was sat between her legs, and her hands were lightly resting against my thighs. we were both intrigued in the movie, or so i thought. whilst i was watching, and keeping up with the storyline, billies hands began to wander. they roamed up my stomach, cupping my boobs gently, before moving down again to this time, rest against my inner thighs.

i really tried to focus on the movie, but i just couldn't with her hands all over me. i knew nothing could happen, i was on my period, which meant that i had to wait a few more days until she could touch me. i'd been so horny. i was desperate for her, but we both knew that nothing could be done about it. well, she could fix my horniness, but i felt bad for asking her to do that when i was on my period. so i waited, and somehow put up with the feeling of being unbearably horny almost all day, every day.

soon enough, i felt her pressing light kisses behind my ear, down my neck, before lightly whispering in my ear.

"can i try something, baby?"

i slightly turned in her arms so that i could see her face, before answering her in a hushed tone.

"and what would that be, hm bil?"

"please can i taste you?"

my eyebrows furrowed and i looked away as i wondered why she was even asking. she knew i was on my period. she'd practically been taking care of me for the last few days. grabbing me a hot water bottle, or holding me in her arms whenever my cramps worsened. getting me whatever food i wanted when i was craving something. making sure i was drinking plenty of water. she really was the best. i just didn't understand why she was asking this now.

"i.. baby, you know i'm still on my period."

"i know.. i just can't wait!! i want to taste you please, love. i'll do anything."

i hesitated slightly. what if i made a mess, and then she got mad? what if i didn't taste good? she must have noticed the look on my face because she began speaking again.

"if you're not comfortable with this, then we don't have to do it. but i promise you that you don't need to overthink it, there should be no what if's filling your mind. you know i love you no matter what. i think you're the most perfect girl in the world."

how did she know?

it was like she could read my mind.

"pleaseeee? pinky promise i'll take great care of you, angel. just like always. pretty please?"

if i hadn't been so horny for the last few days, i probably would've said no, but that side of my brain just took over. i needed her so so bad. i reminded myself that she would always love me. this wasn't going to change that. she wanted this just as much as i did.

"if i say yes, can you put a towel down? you know.. just in case?" i mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"of course, angel. whatever makes you feel the most comfortable." she answered me, placing soft kisses on my forehead.

once i'd spent a short amount of time thinking about it, i looked back into her eyes and nodded.

"i need you billie."

she just smirked at my words, before sitting me up slightly so that she could move from behind me, and settle in between my legs instead.

it didn't take her long to leave the room and grab a towel, folding it slightly and placing it underneath me. she sat on her knees at first, slowly pulling my pyjamas and underwear down so that she had the perfect view of me. once our clothes had been discarded in a messy pile on the floor, she leaned down to lay on her stomach, getting even closer to my core. i let out a needy whine when all she did was lightly blow against my pussy.

she could already see how wet i was. i hadn't told her about how needy id been for the past few days, but i think that as soon as she caught a glance of how wet i was, she immediately realised. she didn't bother to waste any more time, diving straight in. her tongue ran a long stripe up my pussy, before focusing on my clit. she was trying to get me wetter, it wasn't like she needed me to be wetter, she just wanted to tease. i reached my hands down to grab her hair, pulling her impossibly closer to my core in an attempt to get her to move faster.

we both knew that i was already pretty sensitive because of how long i'd needed this, so it wouldn't take her long to get me close, which was why she was trying to drag it out as much as possible. she wanted me to last as long as i could.

her tongue flicked my clit, before licking and slurping, just doing as much as she could to bring me pleasure. after what felt like an eternity, she finally moved to push her tongue inside of me. she worked her tongue against my tight walls as they squeezed against her. my orgasm was approaching fast, and my arousal must have been dripping all over the lower half of her face. at that point, i'd completely forgot that i was on my period, and i think billie had forgotten too. we were both too focused on me finishing.

i was so close, and to add to the pleasure, she pressed her fingers on my clit, quickly rubbing circles against it, making my moans as loud as they could get. i couldn't hold it any longer. no matter how hard i tried, i was too desperate.

"billie! baby, can i cum for you? please?" i moaned out.

"that's ittt." she praised, "cum for me, my love."

as soon as i heard those words, my orgasm hit me. my moans and cries were broken whilst i let the feeling consume me. my back was arching off the bed, and my hands were still tangled in billies hair, gripping onto it tight to ground myself slightly.

as i started to come down from my high, my grip loosened on her hair, and i felt one of her hands gently rubbing my stomach to help me calm down. when i finally flopped against the bed, trying to catch my breath, billie pulled her face away from me, looking into my eyes with a proud smile. all i could see was a mixture of my arousal, and blood dripping down her chin and coating her lips.

my cheeks turned red and i covered my face, embarrassed even though i knew billie was just happy that she'd made me feel good.

i didn't even notice her come closer to my face until i felt her carefully grabbing my wrists to pry my hands away from my face, and i heard her pretty voice.

"don't be embarrassed, angel. can i go clean you up now?"

"please." i nodded and thanked her, allowing myself to be lifted up in her arms, my head resting on my shoulder out of exhaustion.

once we took a long shower, and pampered each other, it was time for us to get back in bed and watch movies for the rest of the day, enjoying each others company just like usual.

[mxurelle]

synopsis: gojo helps you ride out your high by eating you out. cause why not?

cw: high sex, mentioned/implied drug use, oral sex, a slightly geeked out satoru. -18 dni.

wc: 1,765.

“you must be absolutely fried, ain’t hear a thing i just said.”

you perk up against the wall, half-lidded eyes lifting up from the ground to follow the familiar sound of your boyfriend’s voice at your side. as your eyes met, your gaze instinctively narrowed to examine his face, gauging the look of mischief behind those rounded glasses he wore. you were high as all hell, no doubt about it. droopy eyed, excessively dry lips and parched throat, gravity weighing itself on you unlike anything you’ve felt before; aside from when you’re stoned.

“huh?” you bat your lashes, brows creased a look of iminiate confusion as you attempt to decipher his sentence. which worked, partially. “—so you aren’t? and don’t say it like that, makes me feel self conscious.”

gojo chuckles a delightful sound at your side and you lick your lips, an otherwise seamless ‘keke’ swelling a fluttering sensation to sit at your chest, traveling throughout your nerves before shooting down directly in between your legs. you click your tongue, displeased with how easy you’ve become, deciding to blame your alerted state of mine.

“my tolerance isn’t all that low, been there done that, though i only ever take part in this sort of thing unless i’m with you or suguru.” he explains beside you, blabbering off about god knows what at this point, presumably ignorant to the effects his voice alone has on you. you refuse to look his way, tired eyes focused on the bare wall ahead of you.

“wouldn’t that make your tolerance lower than mine?” you mutter to yourself, unaware of the fact you spoke aloud. you fold your arms over your chest, gulping down the lump in your throat as you stare ahead. or so you tried, your eyes were barely open, not to mention disinterested in an empty wall.

what you really wanted was your legs wrapped around his neck, mindless whimpers muffled against your throbbing cunt, echoing against your ears as you used his tongue to your heart’s content. not that you would say any of that, though.

gojo fell silent for a moment, piercing blue eyes poking holes through your side profile even behind the glasses. “eh, i suppose.” he shrugged, shuffling against the wall as he took a step closer. “how come i’m staring at half a face, hm? you shy now?”

“the fuck? no,” you immediately blurted out in a means to supposedly defend yourself, lips etching into a distasteful frown; resembling a mean mug with the way you do it. “i’m in deep thought. thinking, in simpler terms for you.” you were snappy in your response, masking what proved to be factual behind an attitude.

gojo hummed a response, his presence looming over your side as he drew closer. “look at me.”

you gulped once more, soothing an itchy throat as you angled your neck to the side, instantly met with the realization of how close he’d gotten. your eyes widened as a gasp caught in your throat, effectively startled. your mind began to race for a bit, the events of just a few seconds prior and the present moment meshed a foggy blur, you found yourself wondering how long the two of you had been standing there.

though, the heavy atmosphere packed with an intense sexual tension between the two of you quickly redirected your attention. an exaggerated ‘damn’ pulled from his lips as they quirked into a toothy grin, his hand lifting to gently tuck your hair off to the side. “your eyes are bloodshot red! it’s kinda cute though, i dunno.” he teased; and to which you swatted his hand away. being the only one baked out of your mind was already bad enough, but of course, who would he be if he didn’t tease you for it.

“you piss me off.” you leisurely shook your head, eyeing your boyfriend up and down, giving him the nastiest look to prove a point.

gojo raised a brow as his grin shamelessly deepened, visibly amused by your frustration. he moved in closer, as close as the two of your bodies would allow before his hands were wrapped around your waist, pressing your back against the wall. his lips morphed an ‘i’m sorry.’ against the heat of your neck, his nose nudged beneath your jawline as he drew in a deep inhale, followed by a relieved sigh as he shrunk against you. he’s always loved your scent, you knew that.

he peppered small pecks along your neck, quickly transitioning to open mouthed kisses as he traveled downwards, focusing on the area right above your breast. you nipped at your bottom lip, angling your head to the side as an invitation; permission to keep going. his teeth gently grazed your skin to serve as a warning, promptly bracing you before sinking into your skin, electing a sharp hiss from you.

your hand flew up to the nape of his neck, fingers gliding upward to clench around his white locks, holding him in place as your eyes fell to a close. though your efforts proved meaningless as he promptly pulled away, dipping down to praise your stomach with gentle kisses as he positioned himself on his knees.

you blinked down at him, squinting as your reddened eyes met with the air, your hands now resting at his shoulders. gojo made quick work of your shorts, tossing the article of clothing once you’ve stepped out of them. he then leaned forward, warm palms placed at each side of your hips as his lips hovered your clothed clit, pools of your arousal staining the fabric of your panties.

his tongue finally laid flat against your clit, and you panicked, yelping as if you’d seen a ghost. gojo pulled back to look at up you, startled by the tone of your exclamation.

“that!—wait, it feels weird. i can’t really feel it like usual, so are you sure you wanna keep going?” you huffed, half-lidded eyes searching for his. truthfully, you could feel it. it felt even better than usual, almost as if you took an aphrodisiac, and the intensity of it all freaked you out.

“can’t feel it?” he analyzed, brows raised as he gaped up at you. after a short pause he resumed the previous laps of his tongue, lathering the surface of your clothed cunt, collecting every inch of you on his tongue. “you can’t feel this?” he muffled against you, barely audible as he explored what felt like every bit of your pussy. even over your panties.

your left hand flew up to cover your mouth with a slap, a low, guttural moan muffled against your palm. your hips rolled against his tongue, sparks of pleasure erupting in jolts throughout your lower abdomen as you shivered. his hand slid beneath your upper thigh, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and providing you with extra wiggle room in the process.

with your lack of an answer to his question he pulled back, replacing his mouth with his thumb, teasing your throbbing nub in circular motions. he lifted his gaze, exacting eye contact with you. “want me to stop since you can’t feel it?”

you sighed into your palm, the loss of his tongue leaving your soaked core vulnerable to the cold air. you slowly shook your head, sluggish in the motions, eyes silently pleading with his. his head titled to the side, gaze flickering away from your eyes to briefly glance at the hand clasped tightly around your jaw. “move your hand,” his index and middle finger gently pinched around your folds, shifting up and down. “c’mon, talk to me. tell me what you want.”

though you wish you had the resolve to be stubborn, you swiftly removed your hand as instructed. you took a shallow breath in, choked up halfway through as the pallets of his tongue pressed against your clit once more. “i—okay, i can feel it. please don’t stop.” you managed with a hiss, prodding fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper thigh.

gojo seemed content with your plea, swiftly pulling your panties to the side and ogling at the bare sight of you. his tongue dove in-between the heat of your folds, tracing the gape of your entrance before slipping inside of you. he groaned as you shamelessly clenched around the muscle, back arching off of the wall and further into the sensations, rutting your hips against his mouth.

your heavy breaths left rigid, the pound of your heart threatening to burst through your chest, fingers clasped a tight hold around your boyfriend’s hair. his eyes never left yours, drinking up and basking in the lewd expressions you’d make, eager to pull even more from you.

your head fell against the wall with a thump, tears swelling at the corners of your eyes, completely overwhelmed but in the best possible way. “shit, i think—i’m close. i’m gonna cum.” your fingers tugged at his hair, earning a quiet whimper from the man beneath you.

“go ahead, i got you.” he reassured below you, giving the flesh of your hips a gentle squeeze.

your hips stuttered within his hold, thighs enclosing around his head with a tight squeeze as you sobbed. overbearing waves of pleasure enveloped the heat of your body, leaving you knees weak, legs trembling as they tried their best to keep you upright. gradually, your hips began to move in unison with the motions of gojo’s tongue, serving as a guide as you rode out your high.

“satoru,” you called out without reason, allowing your back to slide down against the wall once gojo had pulled away to acknowledge your call. the sight you were met with was one you’d wish you’d seen sooner; disheveled white locks poking out in each and every direction, swollen lips glossed over with your arousal, a lovely flush of red spread along the bare skin of his neck and cheeks. if you hadn’t been so exhausted, another go wouldn’t have seemed so taxing.

you raised your hands to cup his cheeks, gently kneading as if he were a stress ball. “you um.. have my cum all over your face.” you cleared your throat, eyes beaming as you marveled at the sight, dumbfounded.

“mm, and you taste good,” he smiled, his palms slinking beneath the fabric of your shirt to caress the smooth surface of your skin. he traced small shapes with his index finger along your sides, unintentionally teasing as shivers shot up your spine.

“you okay? you look absolutely gone, but completely fucked out. it’s hot.”

“..goddamn freak.”

[amourquinn]

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 [18+]

quinn hughes x fem!reader wc. 1k

Quinn barely said a word when he walked through the door.

You had been waiting for him, curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, watching the post-game highlights. You could tell before he even spoke that it had been a rough night. The Canucks had lost in overtime, and Quinn looked absolutely wrecked—his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with frustration.

“Hey, handsome,” you said softly, pushing the blanket off your lap as you stood up.

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, angel.”

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest. His body was still warm from the game, his muscles tight with tension.

“I’m sorry about the loss,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his sternum.

Quinn exhaled, his arms coming around you. “Yeah. Me too.”

He didn’t say much more. He didn’t have to. You could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. His team had fought hard, but it wasn’t enough. And for Quinn, the weight of the loss was always heavier. He never let himself off the hook, no matter how well he played.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His expression was hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck.

You reached up, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Wanna talk about it?”

Quinn shook his head. “Not really.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Wanna sit down, at least?”

He let out a tired chuckle, his hand resting on your hip. “Yeah, that I can do.”

You guided him to the couch, pushing him down gently. Quinn sighed as he leaned back against the cushions, his legs spreading slightly as he rolled his neck, trying to shake off the tension.

You stood between his legs, your fingers toying with the hem of his tie. “You know,” you said slowly, your voice soft but playful, “I could help you relax.”

Quinn’s eyes flicked up to yours, and for the first time that night, you saw something besides frustration. His lips quirked slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your hands moving to his tie, loosening it completely before slipping it from around his neck. “You always take care of me,” you murmured, leaning down, your lips brushing his jaw. “Let me take care of you this time.”

Quinn exhaled sharply, his hands settling on your waist. “Fuck, Y/N.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his jaw before sinking to your knees in front of him.

His breath hitched.

You looked up at him, your hands moving to his belt. “Let me make you feel better, baby.”

Quinn’s eyes darkened, his fingers twitching against your waist. He nodded twice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Yeah, angel. Go ahead.”

You smirked, undoing his belt with practiced ease, then popping open the button of his dress pants. He lifted his hips slightly, letting you pull them down just enough to free him.

He was already hard.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, watching as his jaw tightened, his breath coming out in shallow puffs.

“Shit,” Quinn muttered, his head tilting back against the couch. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggled, then leaned forward, running your tongue along his length, teasing him.

Quinn groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. “No teasing, Y/N. Please.”

You smiled, then took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Quinn cursed, his grip tightening. “Fuck, angel, just like that.”

You set a steady rhythm, your hand stroking the base of him while your mouth worked the rest. You looked up through your lashes, watching as his chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes heavy with lust.

“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” Quinn groaned, his hips jerking slightly.

You hummed around him, making him moan. His hand tightening in your hair as you took him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat.

“Shit,” he rasped, his free hand gripping the couch. “I’m close.”

But before he could finish, he pulled you off.

You blinked up at him, your lips swollen, a strand of saliva connecting your mouth to his cock. “Quinn?”

He smirked, breathless, his eyes dark. “You didn’t really think I’d let you finish me off without fucking you first, did you?”

Your stomach flipped.

Before you could respond, he tugged you up onto his lap, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned you over him.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered, his voice low, commanding.

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, reaching under the oversized hoodie you were wearing—his hoodie—and slipping your panties down your legs.

Quinn groaned at the sight. “Fuck, Y/N.”

You straddled him fully, lining yourself up before slowly sinking down onto him, taking him inch by inch.

You both moaned at the feeling.

“Gosh,” Quinn muttered, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so fucking good.”

You whimpered, bracing your hands against his chest. “You’re so big, Q.”

Quinn groaned, his hands guiding you as you started to move.

You rolled your hips, slow and deliberate, watching as Quinn’s head tilted back, his lips parting in a silent moan.

“That’s it, sweetness,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “Ride me.”

You picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock, taking him deep.

Quinn was wrecked beneath you, his hands roaming under your hoodie, squeezing your waist, your ass, your thighs. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he groaned. “So perfect.”

You whimpered, the pleasure building, your body burning with heat. “Quinn—”

“I know, angel,” he panted, thrusting up to meet your movements. “Come for me.”

With one more roll of your hips, you shattered, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

Quinn followed moments later, his grip bruising as he spilled into you, a deep, broken moan leaving his lips.

You stayed like that for a moment, your bodies pressed together, your breathing heavy.

Finally, you collapsed against his chest, completely spent.

Quinn chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “You really do take care of me, angel.”

You grinned against his skin, snuggling closer. “Always.”

© amourquinn

[midnightsnyx]

come back home - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x reader warnings: angst with a hint of fluff word count: 879 requested: yes / no author note: i have like a million other projects i need to write but i just need to get my sad feelings out so yeah, sorry lol masterlist requests are open

It’s quiet when you step in to the apartment you and Jack shared which wasn’t unusual in the past few months. Quiet was how the two of you lived lately. Tip toeing around each other as if you were walking on egg shells.

Part of you was tired of it and asked yourself if it was really worth it. But the other part of you wasn’t sure if you knew how to live without him anymore and that thought alone scared you. It made you realize how much you had grown to depend on him.

You hear his voice before you see him.

“You’re home.”

His voice is hoarse and you know that he just woke up from a nap. His ruffled appearance confirms it when he meets you in the living room.

“Yeah,” you whisper, staring at the floorboards. You hadn’t been home for days - not since the fight the two of you had. Your best friend let you crash at her house after you told him you needed space which explains his next question.

“Why?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what made you decide to come home. Your friend had told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed and had even put her two cents in on the whole situation.

Her words stuck with you since you broke down and told her everything that had been going on.

“He may love you. He probably does… or at least he maybe thinks he does. But that’s not what matters, sweetie. What matters is what he is doing to show you that he does and right now… he isn’t doing anything.” She squeezed your hand and smiled gently. “You deserve someone who goes out of their way to show you how much they care about you.”

The worst part was that she was right. When was the last time he had went out of his way to do something for you? It made you think back to the beginning of your relationship when he treated you like you were the most important thing in his life. But you suppose that all new relationships begin like that.

You realize that he’s still staring at you intently and you try to come up with some reason you came back rather than the truth, which was that you were too dependant on him and you felt like you needed him as much as you needed air to breathe.

“Can you at least tell me one thing?” he asks after you’ve been silent for so long and all you can do is nod.

“Why did you leave?”

You don’t have to think about the answer to this question because it was something that had been haunting you for quite some time.

“I guess I started to feel like I needed you more than you needed me,” you tell him quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Look at me,” he says and you let your eyes meet his. “I love you.”

You want to believe him but your friends words keep coming back to haunt you. Did he love you or was he drunk on the idea of it? Something your mom told you a long time ago was that there is a distinct difference between loving someone and being in love with them. It’s easy to lie to yourself about loving someone but you can’t lie to yourself about being in love with them.

“How are you so sure?” you ask him.

“How could I not?” he says and you’re about to tell him that his answer isn’t good enough but he doesn’t stop there. “Baby, you’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I’m falling asleep at night.” He slowly walks over to you and reaches out with one hand, letting his thumb run across your cheek. “I think about your smile and your laugh and about how you are the only person I want to come home to.” You watch as he looks away from you and stares at a picture of the two of you. It’s from a trip the two of you took last summer during break. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit. You’re scared that if you let things go back to how they were before, you’ll end up back here in this exact situation. “I’m afraid that this will become a cycle and I can’t do it, Jack. I physically can’t handle that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just looks at you as if you’re the only thing in the world, his world, that matters. It makes you weak in the knees and this is the Jack you fell in love with. 

“Just come home,” he whispers. “We can figure everything out. Together.”

It’s a risk, deciding to give everything another shot. To put your heart on the line. But you remember something else your mom told you once.

“The right people are worth staying for”, she had told you.

You take a deep breath and nod, hoping that you’re making the right decision.

“All right,” you tell him and he grins, kissing you for the first time in months and it feels like coming home.

[arxiwon]

Falling Through the Cracks | sjy

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Heavy Heartbreak Warnings: Emotional cheating, miscommunication, regret, angst with no comfort, terminal illness, major character death Synopsis: You and Jake were supposed to have forever. But forever was never promised.

The first time you met Jake Sim, he was the boy with the brightest smile and the loudest laugh. He was warm—like the summer sun, like the lingering scent of coffee in the morning, like the feeling of home.

And you loved him for it.

Jake had always been yours, and you had always been his. At least, that’s what you thought.

But love is cruel when it isn’t enough.

It started small—missed calls, late replies, moments where he wasn’t really there even when he was sitting right beside you. At first, you brushed it off. Jake was busy with work, tired from practice, exhausted from always giving so much of himself to everyone.

You told yourself you understood.

Until you saw it.

The way he smiled at her.

It was the same way he used to smile at you.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were his anymore.

“Jake, tell me the truth.”

Your voice wavered as you stood in front of him, your fingers curled into your sleeves to keep them from shaking. Jake was sitting on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions, but his whole body tensed at your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You let out a broken laugh. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Silence.

It stretched between you, an unspoken truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

Jake swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me,” you pleaded, your heart cracking with every second that passed.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Your stomach twisted. It felt like the floor was crumbling beneath you, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So it did happen.”

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told you everything.

Jake never physically cheated on you.

But love isn’t just about the body.

It’s about the heart.

And Jake had given a piece of his heart to someone else.

You knew he still loved you. You could see it in the way he hesitated before leaving, in the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

But love alone wasn’t enough.

So you left.

And Jake let you.

A year passed.

You tried to move on. You really did. But there was always something missing—like a phantom limb, like a whisper in the wind, like the ghost of a love that should have lasted a lifetime.

Then, one day, Jake called you.

His voice was hoarse, weaker than you remembered.

“…Can we talk?”

You hesitated. But in the end, you went.

And that’s when you learned the truth.

Jake was sick.

Terminally.

The doctors had given him months.

Your world shattered in an instant.

The love you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back, suffocating you with its weight. Because it didn’t matter how much he had hurt you, how much time you had spent resenting him for breaking your heart—none of that mattered anymore.

Because you were about to lose him.

Forever.

Jake never asked you to stay.

But you did anyway.

Not as his lover, not as his second chance, but as the person who had loved him first and would love him last.

You were there through it all. The doctor visits, the sleepless nights, the pain that left him breathless and exhausted. You held his hand when he was too weak to stand. You ran your fingers through his hair when the weight of it all became too much.

And Jake… he never stopped looking at you like you were his entire world.

Because you were.

And maybe, in another life, he would’ve realized it sooner.

The last time Jake Sim smiled at you, it was different.

It wasn’t the brightest smile in the room. It wasn’t the loudest laugh.

It was soft. Tired. A whisper of what once was.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Tears streamed down your face as you held his hand against your chest. “Don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against yours. “If I had more time… I would’ve spent every second proving to you that it was always you. It was only you.”

You bit your lip, choking on a sob. “I know.”

Jake smiled again—just for you.

And then he closed his eyes.

And this time, he didn’t open them again.

You loved Jake Sim with every part of you.

But love wasn’t enough to keep him.

And as you sat there, holding his lifeless hand, you realized—

Jake had always been yours.

And you had always been his.

But forever was never promised.

[hazelira]

part 2 of more than 143

The cold air nipped at your skin as you swung your legs off the bed, stretching your arms above your head with a tired sigh. Your body still felt heavy from sleep, but hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you that you had skipped breakfast.

You glanced at the bathroom door, debating whether to shower first or eat. Your pyjamas were comfortable, and you didn’t feel like changing yet. You’d freshen up after brunch.

Padding toward the bedroom door, you reached for the handle, already thinking about what to make—maybe something warm, something comforting—anything to distract yourself from the weight of this morning’s emptiness.

But the moment you pulled the door open, all thoughts vanished.

Because standing right there, breathless, dripping wet from the rain, was Heeseung.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his black hoodie clinging to his frame, soaked through. Raindrops dripped from his hair, trailing down his sharp jawline. His hands hung loosely at his sides, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you crashed into him before a single word could leave his lips.

His breath hitched as you threw your arms around his torso, pressing against him without hesitation. You didn’t care that his clothes were wet, didn’t care that the rain had made him cold—you just needed to hold him.

And he let you.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was as if he was afraid you’d disappear. His fingers pressed into your back, his chin resting against your head as he clung to you like a lifeline.

“I—” He started, voice hoarse, but he couldn’t finish.

Because he didn’t have the words.

I didn’t know how to explain how he had run—sprinted—through the rain to get back to you. The moment the mission was over, he hadn’t even waited for his men. I hadn’t cared about anything but you.

How badly he had needed to see you, hold you, remind himself that you were still here, still waiting for him.

The guilt burned in his throat.

He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

And yet, you were here, burying your face into his chest and gripping him like you never wanted to let go.

Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling your scent beneath the faint smell of rain and his own regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain still pouring outside.

You shook your head against him.

“You came back,” you murmured.

And that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

Heeseung tightened his arms around you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, silently swearing to himself—next time, he’d come back sooner.

Or maybe…

He wouldn’t leave at all.

Heeseung was still catching his breath when you pulled back slightly, your hands sliding down his arms until your fingers found his. His skin was cold and damp from the rain, but his touch was so warm that it sent a shiver up your spine.

“You need a shower,” you murmured, voice laced with something soft yet teasing.

Heeseung blinked down at you, lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you were already tugging him toward the bathroom. His soaked hoodie clung to his body, droplets dripping onto the floor with each step, and you knew if he stayed in those wet clothes any longer, he’d end up sick.

“Wait, you—” He hesitated when you pushed open the bathroom door. “You mean together?”

You turned your head slightly, glancing at him from over your shoulder. The way his voice wavered, barely above a whisper, sent a thrill through your chest.

“Obviously,” you hummed, tilting your head. “Or do you want to freeze to death?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His ears, already tinted pink from the cold, darkened further. “N-No. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish.

Reaching for the hem of his hoodie, you peeled the drenched fabric over his head, exposing the toned lines of his torso. His skin was ice-cold to the touch, causing a frown to tug at your lips as your fingers brushed against him.

“You ran all the way here in the rain,” you muttered, hands ghosting over his chest.

Heeseung gave a breathy chuckle, his hands hesitantly settling on your waist. “You think I’d take my time when I knew you were waiting for me?”

Your heart squeezed.

Instead of answering, you reached for your clothes, slipping your pyjama top over your head. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching against your skin. His eyes flickered to yours, searching, asking.

And when you took his hand and pulled him under the warm stream of water, he let you.

The heat washed over both of you, steam curling around your bodies, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You stood there, feeling the warmth seep into your skin, feeling Heeseung’s presence so close, so real.

His hands found your waist again, with more certainty, his fingers brushing against your damp skin. You looked up at him, droplets of water sliding down his face, darkening the strands of his hair.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, tilting your head.

Heeseung exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Can you blame me?”

You smiled, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. “Turn around.”

He raised a brow but did as told, letting you lather his hair, your fingers massaging his scalp in slow, deliberate motions. His shoulders visibly relaxed under your touch, and a quiet hum of contentment left his lips.

“If you keep doing that, I might never leave,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You grinned. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

Heeseung turned slightly, just enough to catch your gaze. His eyes, dark and filled with something unreadable, held yours for a beat too long.

Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay.”

When you were both dressed, fresh and warm, your stomach grew loud enough for Heeseung to hear.

He laughed as you dragged him toward the kitchen, your hand gripping his like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go.

“You’re hungry, huh?” he teased, plopping down into the chair while you grabbed ingredients.

“You’d be too if you skipped breakfast,” you shot back, opening the fridge. “What do you want?”

Heeseung hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Anything you make is fine.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on your lips as you started preparing food. Heeseung, of course, couldn’t just sit still. He approached behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’re clingy today,” you mused, flipping a pancake.

“You almost tackled me when I got back,” he countered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Who’s the clingy one?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Shut up and set the table.”

He chuckled but obeyed, grabbing plates and utensils before sitting across from you.

As you ate, Heeseung’s foot nudged yours under the table, a small smile tugging at his lips.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt something settle deep in his chest—something warm, something real.

Something like home.

requested by: @wonbinceps @ijustwannareadstuff20 @toreadsomething @gyarumindd @mheretoreadff @heeaara

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[shineon3]

hi sarah! for the situations ask game

22 + 43 maxiel 👀

From here.

Hi tysh!! This was fun to write tbh ^^ so here's some Fake dating + Truth or dare maxiel for you ❤️

“Okay, yall, we’re playing truth or dare!”

Max winces, his groan drowned in the sea of cheers that erupt in the room. Trust Charles for wanting to play stupid drinking games.

Next to him, Daniel laughs, loud and unrestrained, like he always gets as soon as he’s just a little bit tipsy. 

Max watches the first rounds play out, thankfully being spared by the spinning bottle sitting in the middle of the table. He watches Franco awkwardly flirt with Lewis for a dare, cringes when Alex has to spill the beans about the infamous throat infection incident while George tries to get the earth to swallow him whole.

And then, just as he got comfortable being a spectator, the world sends him the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever uttered. 

“So, Max. Truth or dare, hm?”

There’s a dangerous glint in Charles’ eyes, and he swallows, throat clicking a bit too loudly. 

“Uh, truth, I guess?”

Charles’ smile widens, almost shark-like. Around them, the whole table falls silent.

“How did you and Daniel start dating?”

Max wonders if he can escape this if he slams his head hard enough against the table.

See, the thing is, Max and Daniel aren’t dating. Not really. It’s just that, at the beginning of the season, Charles, the paddock’s biggest gossip, had caught them sleeping in the same bed, something they did whenever one of them ended up being too tired after hanging out, and had drawn his own conclusions. Neither Max nor Daniel had denied it, thinking that Charles was just teasing them, but the Monegasque had spilled the beans to the whole grid, who now also believes they're dating. 

Daniel had laughed when he found out, and then shrugged.

“They’ll understand their mistake sooner or later, I reckon. It’s not like we’re actually dating, Maxy, right?”

It just had to come back and bite their asses.

Of course.

Max should have known.

“We’re- Charles, we’re not dating.”

“Don’t lie, Max, I saw you. Daniel was practically naked in your bed!”

Fuck. Daniel had been practically naked in his bed. But that’s only because he’s used to sleeping in his boxers! It’s not weird! 

Right?

Something tickles the shell of his ears, making him shiver. 

“Go on, Maxy. Be a good boy and tell ‘em how we started dating, hm? Or should I do that for you, darling?”

Daniel’s deep, crooning voice rumbles right against his ear, and Max can feel himself flush. The brunette’s arms wrap around his waist, under the cover of the table, playing with the hem of his shirt. Fuck. How could Max forget how touchy Daniel gets when drunk?

“I suppose it is acceptable, if you’re the one to tell us,” Charles' smile is somehow even wider. Max will be getting new, better friends, after this. “Spill the beans, Daniel.”

And Daniel does. He tells an elaborated story about the start of their supposed relationship, where he “seduces Max with his wild looks and gentleman manners”, whatever that might mean. Max doesn’t fully pay attention to it, especially when Daniel’s hands shift lower, dangerously close to where Max has been half hard for a while, the older’s curious hands roaming around his midsection coupled with the way Daniel spoke to him just a minute ago enough to rile him up. 

Okay, so. Max might have a tiny, itty bitty insignificant crush on his best friend. Might. He can’t help it if Daniel insists on looking like sex on legs whenever he wears clothes, if Daniel constantly crashes his bed because he “sleeps better on it”, if Daniel always invites him out for dinner, if-

“ - but if you’ll excuse us, I think Maxy and I have some things to do. Adios, losers.”

Max tunes back in just in time to get up when Daniel tugs at his arms, a big grin almost spreading his face in half. The brunette drags him out of the club and into a cab, tucking himself as close as physically possible to Max.

“We’re going back to my room, and unless you’re against it, I’m going to take my sweet time fucking you. Capiche?”

Max has never said yes to anything this fast. 

[n0tamused]

Hello! Congrats on 1.5k! That’s so awesome! 👏

Would it be okay to request romantic Action prompt 11 “Person A and B are sparring when one of them pins the other to the floor/wall” for Mydei? Would be cute if Reader pinned Mydei and surprised him lol 😈

I’m in shambles after 3.1–

I also request you have a lovely week heheh ❤️

︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹Mydei x Reader

A/n: EYY ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING FOR MYDEI ILY, I WAS WAITING FOR A MYDEI REQUEEST UGDTZJUKJHHIFI<3 Also thank you!!! 3.1 left me in some(a lot) denial, thus I shall be taking charge of writing how Mydei's story ends <3. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this, thank you for partaking in the event and helping me celebrate this milestone! <3

Contents: Mydei x Reader, no gender specified(GN, you/yours) but written with a fem reader in mind, fluff

Words: 580

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event

His next swing came from the left, swift and powerful, leaving you just enough time for you to raise your arm in defense. The blow still sent you back, and Mydei did not stop his assault there. Several more blows came, left and right, above and under, some you parried and others you dodged well enough. At one point you caught sight of his face, all twisted in focus, so amusing in the moment that it made you chortle. 

“You’re growing frustrated” you noted through a huff, just before seeing an opening to repay him with your own strike. Mydeimos caught your wrist, but could not hold it for a moment longer as you jumped back out of his grasp. Swift as a snake.

“I am not” 

“Tired then” 

He scoffed at you and shook his head, the corners of his lips giving a small tug upwards, showing faintest traces of a smirk. “You can wish” He launched at you, but something caught in his step and more of his body came forward, and with that his balance as well. For a moment you thought you’d miss your chance, as not often did Mydeimos lose his balance, but you caught the moment just in time, your body going down as your foot went under his own, successfully tripping him.

Mydei went tumbling and the breath he let out sounded as if the air got kicked out of him. You wasted no time, hopping onto him and pinning him down with a gleeful expression, perhaps one too smug, yet it couldn’t be helped.

“You are done, Mydeimos” you threw at him, chest heaving and your hand clinging onto him to hold him down - no matter how much enjoyment you took from seeing his eyes widen at you in surprise, you knew better than to let victory blind you. It goes without saying that you may have had some experiences with Mydeimos when triumph was quickly followed by your failure.  “I take victory today”.

“Victory based on luck is no victory to boast about” he shot back at you, gaze narrowing in that catish way of his, fire burning in his eyes.

“You would not be able to complain about that in a real battle” you began, already seeing him roll his eyes, having heard the same words from his mentor, “if your enemy relied on chance to reign triumph over you, it means you, also, relied in part on luck to win” 

“That means - I won, fair and square” you concluded, sparing you both any further philosophical talk that usually came with such topics.

“Fair and square, you won’t be saying that once I get up off the ground-”

“Then I will not let you rise from the ground at all”

“Why, are you scared you might just fail, that your run has run out?”

You scoffed, feeling the big ball of light and fire inside your chest burn brighter at the thought that entered your mind swiftly. 

“No, in fact, it is because I rather like this sight before me. I’d like to commit it to memory”

Mydeimos gawked at you, his lips falling ajar to say something only to find sounds of protest in place of words he wanted. He felt even more frustrated when you began to giggle and laugh, your arms leaving his frame and arms where you had him pinned down - it seems your words were enough force to keep him nailed down until he recovers. 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: No Faking It

You were on the phone, curled up on the couch, thinking you had the house to yourself. Your voice was low, casual, as you reassured your friend.

“I mean, yeah, I faked it last night,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “I was just exhausted, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad. It wasn’t a big deal.”

You didn’t notice the way Marshall froze in the doorway. Didn’t see how his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly as your words sank in.

You faked it?

His grip tightened on the water bottle in his hand, but he stayed quiet, listening as you continued.

“It’s not like it happens all the time,” you added quickly. “And honestly, he’s always so good about making sure I’m taken care of—I just couldn’t keep up last night.”

Marshall exhaled slowly through his nose. He didn’t know whether to be offended, amused, or just straight-up determined.

Scratch that—he was definitely determined.

He didn’t make his presence known until you were off the phone, stretching your arms with a soft sigh. You nearly jumped when you turned and found him standing there, arms crossed, blue eyes locked onto you with that unreadable expression of his.

“Marshall?” You blinked. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he murmured.

You frowned, about to ask what he meant—until you saw the way his gaze darkened, something almost dangerous flickering behind his smirk.

Oh. Oh.

Your stomach flipped. “Wait—”

“So you faked it?” His voice was calm, casual—too casual. He stepped closer, and you instinctively shrank back against the couch. Not out of fear—out of anticipation.

“Marshall, it wasn’t a big—”

“Nah.” He shook his head slowly, lowering himself onto the couch beside you, one arm draping along the back of it as he leaned in. “See, now it’s a problem.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed up your thigh, slow, teasing. “I—I was just really tired.”

“That right?” He smirked, his voice dropping lower. “Guess that means you’re well rested now.”

Your heart pounded. Oh, you were in trouble.

Marshall tilted his head, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “Let’s see you fake it this time.”

And just like that, you knew—you weren’t getting out of this until he knew for a fact that there was nothing fake about it.

You barely had time to process his words before Marshall was on you, his movements slow, deliberate, and dangerous. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make you shiver.

“Marshall—”

“Nah.” His voice was rougher now, laced with something primal. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say now, do you?”

Your stomach flipped, anticipation twisting in your gut as he shifted, pressing you back against the couch with his body, his presence all-consuming.

“You really sat here,” he murmured, lips brushing against your jaw, “and told your friend you faked it?” He exhaled sharply, nipping at the skin beneath your ear. “Like that shit don’t matter?”

You swallowed hard, your breath already coming shorter. “I—it wasn’t like that—”

He scoffed, shaking his head, his grip tightening on your waist. “Nah, you don’t get to downplay it now.” His voice was low, commanding. “You really think I’m lettin’ that slide?”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, clinging to him as heat bloomed beneath your skin. “I—”

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you faked it.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his gaze. “I faked it.”

His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. “Not happening again.”

And just like that, he moved—picking you up like you weighed nothing, tossing you over his shoulder in one smooth motion. You gasped, hands smacking against his back in shock.

“Marshall!”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even hesitate as he strode toward the bedroom like a man on a mission. His grip was firm, possessive, one arm locked around your thighs as if daring you to try and escape.

Not that you would.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally lowering you down onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips before you could even think about sitting up. His blue eyes burned into yours, dark with pure, unrelenting determination.

“You listenin’?” His voice was deep, husky, the edge of a growl beneath his words.

You nodded, your own breath unsteady.

His fingers traced up your thighs, slow and teasing, making you squirm. “Ain’t stoppin’,” he murmured, “till I know for a fact that you ain’t gotta fake shit.”

Your body melted beneath his touch, heat pooling in your stomach. “I—”

He smirked, tilting his head. “Nah, don’t even talk.” His hands gripped you tighter, like he was staking his claim. “Just take it.”

And you did.

---

Marshall didn’t waste any time. He had that look in his eyes—one that meant he wasn’t playing, wasn’t stopping, wasn’t letting up until you forgot what the word fake even meant.

You barely had a second to breathe before he was on you, pressing you down into the mattress, his body caging yours in like he needed you beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just enough to let you know exactly what kind of night you were in for.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” he murmured, his lips dragging slowly down your neck, his voice low and gravelly. “You really thought I’d be okay with that.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dug into your waist, possessive and unrelenting.

“I—I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you admitted, barely able to focus when his mouth was moving lower, his hands everywhere all at once.

He huffed out a dark, humorless chuckle against your skin. “Not a big deal?” His fingers pressed harder into your hips, like he was trying to hold himself back. “Nah. See, this—” he punctuated his words with a slow, deliberate grind of his hips against yours, making you gasp “—this is a big deal.”

Your hands gripped at his hoodie, your body already trembling under his touch. “Marshall—”

“No,” he cut you off, lifting his head, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not yet.”

You swallowed hard, already feeling the heat build between you, already knowing he wasn’t going to let up—not until you felt everything he needed you to.

“You wanna make sounds for me, baby?” he murmured, his fingers trailing lower, teasing, taunting. “Make the right ones.”

Your breath shuddered, your grip on his hoodie tightening as his hands roamed your body like he had all the time in the world.

“You faked it once,” he whispered against your lips, his voice nothing but pure, unfiltered promise. “Let’s see how many times I can make up for it.”

And with that, he really got to work.

Marshall was determined. You could see it in the sharp set of his jaw, the heat in his blue eyes, the way his hands refused to let you go—like he had something to prove. And maybe he did.

Because he wasn’t letting this go. Not until there was zero doubt. Not until you couldn’t breathe without thinking about the way he had you now—trapped, trembling, completely at his mercy.

“You feel that?” His voice was low, rough, a little smug as he pressed his body firmly against yours, leaving no room for escape. “Ain’t gotta fake a damn thing, do you?”

You barely had enough breath to whisper, “No.”

He smirked against your skin. “Damn right.”

His hands moved with purpose, mapping out every inch of you, dragging sounds from you so easily it was embarrassing. He wasn’t playing around—not teasing, not taking his time just to mess with you.

No, this was pure focus.

Marshall wasn’t just setting the record straight—he was rewriting it. Making sure that by the time he was done, the only thing your body would remember was him.

“Say my name,” he muttered, lips trailing fire down your skin.

You did. Breathless, desperate.

He groaned at the sound, his grip tightening. “Not like that.”

You barely had time to process what he meant before he gave you more—more pressure, more intensity, more of everything that made you fall apart right under him.

The second time you said his name, it was loud. Uncontrolled. Real.

And that was what he wanted.

He smirked, brushing his lips over yours, his voice smug as hell. “That’s better.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not until your voice was hoarse, your legs were shaking, and there wasn’t a single doubt in your mind:

You were never faking it again.

Marshall wasn’t stopping. Not yet. Not until he got everything he wanted—until your body gave in, until your voice was raw from saying his name, until you felt exactly how deep his determination ran.

And right now? That determination was burning in his eyes, written in the way he held you down, in the way his hands gripped you like he owned you. Like he was branding the moment into your skin.

“You good?” he murmured, his voice rough, breath warm against your lips.

You could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence, but you managed a weak nod.

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t need you noddin’. Need you talkin’.”

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but he was already on you again—teasing, pushing, making sure you felt everything he gave you.

“Tell me you ain’t fakin’ now,” he muttered.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, a sharp gasp ripping from you as you shook your head frantically. “I’m—not—”

He hummed in approval, his grip tightening as he pulled you even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’d hate to have to start all over again just to make sure.”

Your whole body shuddered at the threat—the promise—hidden in his words.

“Marshall—” His name slipped out, raw and desperate.

He groaned, dragging his teeth over your jaw before kissing the spot to soothe it. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

You weren’t sure how much more you could take—your body trembling, your mind spinning, the way he wouldn’t let up until he was completely, absolutely sure.

And finally—finally—when you were nothing but a breathless, spent mess beneath him, he slowed.

His hands softened, his grip turning gentle, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

He exhaled, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Bet you won’t ever pull that fake shit again, huh?”

You let out a weak, breathless laugh, too spent to even respond properly.

He smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, letting you melt into him—safe, warm, and very satisfied.

Lesson learned.

---

The room was quiet now, the air thick with warmth and something deeper—something settled. Marshall’s arms were still wrapped around you, his body loose and relaxed, but his grip on you was firm, like he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

You melted into him, completely spent, your head resting against his chest as your breathing slowly evened out. His fingers traced absentminded circles on your back, grounding, comforting.

But then, after a long stretch of silence, he spoke.

“Why’d you do it?”

You blinked, stirring slightly against him. “Do what?”

He shifted, tilting his head to look at you. “Fake it.” His voice wasn’t accusing—just curious. Maybe even a little confused. “Like, for real. You know you ain’t ever gotta do that with me.”

Your stomach tightened. You knew this conversation was coming, but you’d been hoping you could avoid it.

You swallowed, staring at a spot on his hoodie, fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric. “I dunno,” you muttered. “It’s just… habit.”

Marshall frowned. “Habit?”

You nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. “With my ex… it was just easier. He’d keep going and going, and I’d just—” You hesitated, sighing. “I’d fake it so he’d stop.”

Marshall’s body tensed underneath you. His fingers stilled against your back, his grip tightening just slightly. “…What?”

You bit your lip, still not looking at him. “It wasn’t… like, bad or anything. Just… I don’t think he ever really cared if I finished. It was more about him, so I just got used to pretending.”

Marshall was silent for a long moment, but you could feel the shift in his energy—felt the way his breathing changed, the way his fingers twitched slightly where they rested against you.

Then, his voice came, low and rough. “You’re tellin’ me… before me, you never—?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “No.”

His whole body stiffened.

Your stomach flipped at the reaction, so you quickly tried to downplay it. “It’s not like I knew what I was missing, you know?” You forced a small laugh. “I just thought maybe that’s how it was supposed to be, like maybe it was harder for me or something.”

Marshall exhaled sharply through his nose. “Harder for you, my ass,” he muttered.

You finally looked up at him, and the expression on his face nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

His jaw was tight, his blue eyes burning—not with anger, not at you, but at the idea of what you’d been through.

He shook his head, running a hand down his face. “That’s some bullshit,” he muttered.

“Marshall, really, it’s fine—”

“Nah.” He cut you off, his voice low, firm. “Ain’t fine.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

He shifted suddenly, flipping you onto your back so he was hovering over you again, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to process this new information.

His voice was softer now, but no less intense. “You really thought that’s all there was to it? Just… go through the motions, pretend it’s good enough?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. It just… was what it was.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure out how to undo years of that mindset.

And then, after a long moment, his voice dropped even lower.

“Aight,” he murmured, fingers trailing slowly down your side. “Guess I got more work to do.”

Your breath caught. “Marshall—”

He smirked, but there was something dead serious in his eyes. “Nah, baby. You already know what I’m on.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours. “Gotta make up for lost time.”

And just like that, he was proving—again—that with him, you’d never have to fake anything ever again.

[idkanymark]

[So close to what]

best friends to lovers au | haechan x f!reader

INTRO: your best friend is in love with you but you’re too scared of ruin the friendship to accept his feelings.

w. slightly suggestive

NOTE: Exam season is over and I finally have a little bit of time. How are you?

Do you guys prefer when I use the name Haechan or Donghyuck? Please let me know!

---------

"Did you hear?" Ryujin asked, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

"Heard what?" you replied, raising a brow.

"Hoseok wanted to ask you out—but Haechan stopped him."

"What?" You blinked, stunned.

Everyone knew about Haechan’s feelings for you. He never said it outright, but his actions spoke loud enough. From high school to university, he remained by your side—teasing, annoying, and somehow still your favorite person. You’d lost count of how many times you tried to strangle him, probably resembling Homer and Bart, yet you couldn’t imagine life without him. That’s exactly why you never acknowledged his feelings, and Haechan was smart enough never to say them aloud.

"Do you really not see him as more than a friend?" Ryujin pressed.

"Yes, I'm sure” you said firmly.

Well… that was going to change soon.

Especially that evening, you and Haechan were having your usual dinner night—something that had become routine ever since you recently moved in together near campus.

Coming back from work, you expected the usual - maybe Haechan napping on the couch or raiding the fridge before dinner. What you didn’t expect was to find Haechan shirtless, playing with your dog.

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times before. But not since he started hitting the gym. And wow—he had changed. Broad shoulders, toned arms, defined abs. When did this happen?

You were too busy staring to realize he had caught you. He turned, amusement flickering in his eyes as he fought back a smirk.

“Oh, you’re back?” he said casually, like he hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. “I already prepped everything for dinner.”

“Oh? Mh—yeah, I—” Wait. Why did it suddenly feel hot? Was there no air in here?

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower first!” you blurted before bolting to the bathroom, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

As you shut the door behind you, you swore you heard him chuckle.

Haechan 1 - 0 You.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, you had successfully convinced yourself that you were not affected by Haechan’s sudden gym-induced glow-up. You were just tired. Stressed. Hungry. That’s all.

You walked into the kitchen, determined to act normal, only to find Haechan already setting up the ingredients. His damp hair was pushed back, a few strands falling lazily over his forehead. The sleeveless shirt he threw on did absolutely nothing to hide the changes you were desperately trying to ignore.

"Feeling better?" he teased, glancing at you with that look—the one that always meant trouble.

You rolled your eyes and reached for the cutting board. "Just hand me the vegetables."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a familiar rhythm, chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food when you thought the other wasn’t looking. Everything was fine—until you struggled with the knife, your hands slipping slightly on the carrot you were cutting.

Before you could react, Haechan was behind you. Right behind you.

"Here, let me help” he murmured, his chest just barely brushing against your back as he reached around you. His hands covered yours, guiding your grip on the knife.

You swore the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees.

"You’re holding it too loosely” he continued, his voice lower than usual. "You need to be firm."

Firm. Right. Firm grip. Not shaky hands. Not the overwhelming awareness of how close he was, how warm he felt, how good he smelled—why does he smell so good?!

"You okay?" he asked, his breath fanning against your ear.

No. Absolutely not.

"Yeah! Of course! Totally fine!" you blurted, stepping forward so fast you nearly knocked the bowl off the counter. "You know what? Maybe you should handle the cutting. I’ll just… stir."

Haechan watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "You’re acting weird” he said, crossing his arms.

You grabbed the nearest spoon and pointed it at him. "I am not acting weird. You’re acting weird!"

He just chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up the knife again. "Whatever you say."

Haechan 2 - 0 You

And for the first time, you started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as immune to him as you thought.

-----

A road trip was long overdue. Ever since Haechan got his driver license, it had been your thing- just you, Haechan, the open road, a questionable playlist, the endless banter. Nothing had changed.

Or so you thought.

As you hopped into the car, adjusting your seat, Haechan shot you a lazy grin. “I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably.”

You choked on air.

Ride comfortably?

Your head snapped toward him, but he was already looking straight ahead, fingers drumming against the steering wheel like he hadn’t just said that. Oh, this man was choosing his words very carefully these days.

“Oh?” You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Haechan turned to you, feigning innocence. “You know, snacks, pillows, a blanket in case you get cold—” He glanced at you, his smirk deepening. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“I—nothing. I just—shut up and drive” you muttered, yanking your seatbelt on as heat crept up your neck.

The car rumbled to life, and soon, you were cruising down the highway, music filling the space between you. But something was different. You could feel it in the air, thick and charged, every teasing glance from Haechan making it worse.

“So” he started, tapping his fingers against the wheel, “when are you gonna admit it?”

You frowned. “Admit what?”

“That you’ve been acting weird around me lately.”

Your grip on your drink tightened. “I have not—”

“You literally sprinted to the bathroom the other day after seeing me shirtless.”

Your jaw clenched. “I was hot.”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

Your head snapped toward him, and he was already grinning like he won some kind of game. You hated how smug he looked. You hated even more how right he probably was.

You exhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to the road.

Haechan 3 - 0 You

And this trip was far from over.

-----

The sky was drenched in deep oranges and purples as the road stretched endlessly ahead. The entire trip had been a game—one you were losing miserably. Haechan had been relentless, throwing teasing remarks and smug glances your way, collecting points without even trying.

But not this time.

You shifted in your seat, stretching your arms above your head with a casual sigh. “Ugh, I should’ve worn something lighter" you muttered, tugging at the neckline of your top just enough to draw attention. “It’s so hot in here.”

Haechan didn’t react at first, his eyes fixed on the road. But you caught it—the quick flicker of his gaze toward you, the subtle shift in his grip on the steering wheel.

Encouraged, you went in for the kill. “Maybe I should just take this off" you mused, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt as if you were actually considering it.

That did it.

His knuckles went white against the wheel, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he exhaled slowly, like he was physically restraining himself.

Still, he said nothing.

The air inside the car grew thick with something different. No teasing comeback, no cocky remark. Just tension. Heavy, undeniable tension.

And that’s when you knew.

Haechan wasn’t winning this round. You were. You finally got a point.

A slow smirk crept onto your face as you leaned back, satisfied. “Hey, pass me the aux.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a sharp breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving chuckle as he grabbed the cord and handed it to you.

“You’re so annoying” he muttered, gripping the wheel a little too tightly.

You grinned, plugging in your phone. “Something wrong?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I hate you”

No, he didn’t.

Haechan 3 - 1 You

-----

The ride to Busan had been long. Five hours of charged silence, stolen glances, and the occasional throat-clearing that neither of you acknowledged. By the time you arrived, exhaustion was settling into your bones—but the universe clearly wasn’t done messing with you.

Because the moment you stepped into your Airbnb, you were met with a problem.

“A bed?” Your voice pitched slightly. “There’s only one bed?”

Haechan, standing behind you, blinked at the sight like he was just now realizing it.

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Haechan. You booked this place.”

“I didn’t know that!” he defended, throwing his hands up. “I just saw the good reviews and a nice view—how was I supposed to check that?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. The tension had already been unbearable, and now, this? It was like karma was punishing you for something.

Still, you were exhausted. Arguing wasn’t worth it.

“I’ll order food" you sighed. “Go take a shower, you must be tired from all the driving.”

Haechan smirked as he grabbed a towel. “Try not to freak out during our honeymoon, sweetheart” he teased, throwing a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at the door.

By the time he came out, hair damp and smelling annoyingly good, the food had arrived, and you were already eating. He plopped down across from you, stealing a fry off your plate without asking—typical.

For a while, there was just the quiet clatter of chopsticks and the hum of the TV in the background. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I’ll take the couch.”

You paused mid-bite, blinking at him.

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. You should have felt relieved. You should have nodded and moved on. But instead, there was this stupid little twinge of… what? Disappointment?

No. Definitely not.

“Alright" you muttered, pushing your rice around with your chopsticks.

Haechan glanced at you, lips twitching like he was debating whether to say something. “Unless…” he started.

You looked up. “Unless what?”

He grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “Unless you want me in bed with you.”

You stared at him. “I will smother you with a pillow.”

Haechan laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending the warmth in your face was from the food.

And the night was far from over.

-----

The tension from the car ride still lingered as you both got ready for bed. Haechan was setting up his spot on the couch, fluffing a pillow as if it would magically make it more comfortable. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

He had driven for almost five hours straight. He deserved a comfortable bed—not a stiff couch—yet here you were, letting your ridiculous nerves and hormones get in the way.

What kind of awful person were you?

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Haechan."

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up.

You hesitated, then finally blurted, "Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

That got his attention.

Haechan froze mid-motion, blinking at you as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "I’m sorry, what?"

You exhaled sharply. "I said: Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

A beat of silence. Then, "Are you sure?" His voice held an unusual hesitation, as if he didn’t quite believe this was happening.

"I’ll change my mind if you don’t jump on the bed in the next few sec—"

You didn’t even get to finish.

Haechan was already diving onto the bed, a satisfied grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers as he got comfortable beside you. It felt… strange. Too quiet. Too real. You both instinctively turned your backs to each other, but that only made it worse.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. But sleep never came.

You sighed softly, rolling over. "Haechan, are you awake?"

He turned too, now facing you in the dim light. "Yeah."

Your breath caught. Being this close, lying in the same bed—it was something entirely new. His face was barely a foot away, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for something.

He looked ethereal.

"Can I tell you something?" His voice was quieter this time, careful.

Your heartbeat stuttered. "Yeah."

He hesitated for only a second before saying, "I’ve liked you for a while."

The confession hit you like a slow-burning flame, creeping through your chest and spreading warmth and panic all at once.

"It could ruin our friendship…" you whispered.

"It won’t" he said immediately. "We will never break up."

There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. Just certainty. And for some reason, that certainty felt like the safest thing in the world.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked.

You swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes."

Something shifted. The space between you felt smaller, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, almost hesitant—like he wanted to take his time, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt. His lips moved against yours slowly, testing, savoring. But when you kissed him back, he exhaled against your skin, pulling you in just a little closer. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and steady, anchoring you in the moment.

The kiss deepened, unspoken emotions spilling into it—years of teasing, of unspoken tension, of lingering glances neither of you ever acknowledged. And now? Now it was undeniable.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face.

Then, just as you thought the moment couldn’t get any more overwhelming, Haechan smirked.

"Oh, by the way," he murmured, "I did know there was only one bed"

Silence.

Your eyes widened. "You WHAT?!"

Before he could react, you shoved him, grabbing a pillow to physically wipe that smirk off his face.

Haechan burst into laughter, dodging your attacks. "Hey, don’t be mad! It worked, didn’t it?"

"YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE!"

Still grinning, he caught your wrists, pulling you back down beside him with a chuckle. "Come on, sweetheart, you still feel like yelling at me?"

You huffed, glaring at him. But the warmth in his gaze, the lingering feeling of his lips on yours—it was impossible to stay mad.

Haechan 4 - 1 You

And somehow, you didn’t even mind.

But then the laughter finally died down, leaving only the sound of your breaths in the quiet room. Haechan was still grinning, lying beside you like he had just won the biggest game of his life. Technically, he had.

You glared at him, still trying to process everything. The confession. The kiss. The fact that he had planned the one-bed situation all along.

But before you could throw another insult his way, he suddenly smirked—that famous smirk, the one that always meant trouble.

"Do you remember my suggestion?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement.

You frowned. "What suggestion?"

Then it hit you.

Your brain rewound back to earlier that day. The car ride. The teasing.

"I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably."

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your neck.

Haechan noticed the exact moment you put it together because his smirk deepened.

"Are you still up for it?" he asked, his voice lower now, playful but laced with something else. Something dangerous.

You swallowed, your pulse hammering in your ears. You should say no. You should roll over, ignore him, and go to sleep like a rational person.

But you didn’t.

Instead, without breaking eye contact, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his before tugging him closer.

Haechan’s eyes darkened slightly, his smirk faltering just enough for you to know you had caught him off guard.

“I don’t mind a ride”

That was all he needed.

In a flash, his arms were around you, pulling you flush against him. His warmth, his scent—everything about him surrounded you in an instant. His lips brushed against your temple, trailing slowly down to your cheek before hovering just inches from your lips.

Haechan 5 - 1 You

But by the way he was holding you, it felt like you both won.

[jimxnslight]

The Odd One Out

Summary: When BigHit faces financial struggles, the unthinkable happens: a girl is added to BTS. For the seven members, the change is unsettling, especially for Namjoon, who doubts her place among them. But for Y/N… it's a chance to finally be seen.

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: idol au

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I randomly got the urge to write but wasn’t really feeling any of my wips at the moment, so tell me why I opened a new doc and then 3 hours later this appeared? Like damn, I’m not used to this kind of motivation lmao

“This is a joke, right?”

A heavy silence followed Namjoon’s words, the band’s leader the only one with the guts to voice his mind. But really, someone had to point out how ridiculous the plan being proposed to them was. 

“Now I know it’s not very traditional-”

“It’s not breaking tradition that we’re concerned with,” he countered instantly, “it’s the fact that you’re proposing to bring a girl into the group.”

“I think we all just want to know where this is coming from,” Hoseok offered, inquisitive eyes traveling from Namjoon to their longtime friend and producer now sitting before them. 

Beomgyu sighed, taking in the small recording studio packed with the bright and young members of Bangtan. He had half a mind to call Sihyuk and give him hell for making him be the one to propose the solution they’d spent months coming up with. It was more than clear that the members weren’t on board with the plan, some outright rejecting it while others reluctant, which was a problem because only Beomgyu knew that they didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

“Look,” Beomgyu raised his hands in surrender, not wanting this to fester into something dramatic, “I get it. The thought of someone being added into the group this late is a bit wild, especially that someone being a girl, but that’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

“So it’s a move for attention?” Yoongi commented, unimpressed. A single brow disappeared behind his light grey hair as he leaned back into the small sofa, arms crossing over his chest. Beomgyu could only purse his lips.

“The company’s been facing a lot of financial issues, especially ever since the girl group prior to your debut disbanded. They had hoped that perhaps your last album could have done well enough to keep us afloat until your popularity increases, but even I knew that was a long shot.”

“Then we’ll make a better album,” Namjoon said, determination making his voice firm, but Beomgyu shook his head.

“You guys don’t get it, do you?” 

The boys all gave Beomgyu a curious look, heads tilting and murmurs rippling amongst themselves. Beomgyu watched them all, feeling sympathy for the boys that deserved so much better.

“The Big Three companies have been buying up slots in awards shows and TV programs. They’ve been booking interviews everywhere - anywhere they can get their hands on. There are no places for us to market your group, nothing we can buy up because BigHit has no money. We’re lucky enough that the sales you guys make cover the production costs and some debts, which is way more than what we anticipated.”

He leaned forward in his chair, fidgeting with a stray pen, “you guys have made so many songs that should have been absolute hits, but they never did. Why? Because they can’t gain that kind of trajectory in a company so small. The only realistic thing to expect is to gradually gain popularity - but that takes time. Time we don’t have considering the fact that BigHit is sinking.”

The room was silent, everyone processing the weight of the situation. It made sense, as much as the boys hated to admit it, they were tired of putting all their blood, sweat, and tears into making their albums, only for them to gain minimal traction. They tended to put the blame on themselves most of the time, feeling as though they weren’t good enough, but Beomgyu knew the truth. Had they been in a bigger company, their songs would have been sellouts.  

“Come on, talk to me. You guys are my friends first, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing a horrible decision on you,” Beomgyu begged, especially taking note of how quiet the younger members had been this entire time. 

He was relieved when Jimin sat forward on the couch, running a hand through his black hair slowly, “it’s just… this is weird. Not only for us, but what about the girl too? I can’t imagine she would feel comfortable being in a group with seven guys.”

“And doesn’t this decision seem a bit… permanent? Why not do something more temporary?” Yoongi piped in. 

Taehyung laughed, shaking his light brown hair, “what? Like dating rumours?”

Seokjin grimaced, as though the idea left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Things like this tend to get a bigger reaction when the consequences are more permanent, or at least that’s what I was told,” Beomgyu offered. He was only a producer after all, most of the hard work had been done by the management. 

“And to answer Jimin’s question… well, the girl has already signed the contract, so she must be fine with it.”

That had all the boys’ heads snapping to Beomgyu.

“She’s already been picked out?” Jungkook asked, doe eyes wide in surprise. They widened even more when Beomgyu nodded, causing a frenzy amongst the boys. 

“You wanna meet her?” He asked with a relieved smile, glad to be out of the danger zone. 

Taehyung was the first to jump from his place on the couch, his leg accidentally bumping into Jungkook who had been sitting on the floor at his feet. He mumbled something in annoyance as his dark brown hair was pushed into his eyes.

“Okay, hold on.” Beomgyu’s words made the boys pause, “technically you’re not supposed to meet her until next week, but she told me she’ll be in the studio to record something for your next album today so I don’t think it’ll hurt to pay her a small visit.”

“You’ve met her already?” Hoseok asked, his tone slightly surprised. So much seemed to have changed in the span of 20 minutes. 

Beomgyu nodded, ushering everyone out of the recording studio to begin their journey to the one down the hall. Taehyung was right behind him, a boxy grin gracing his features. 

“So if you’ve met her, what’s she like?”

He seemed to have been the only one excited by the odd plan from the start, much less skeptical compared to his bandmates. But then again, Beomgyu wasn’t surprised. Taehyung seemed to have a natural liking for anything unusual. 

The other boys didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, but he could see the hints of curiosity in their gazes. Even Namjoon trudged behind everyone reluctantly, though notably still skeptical of the plan. 

Once they had reached the door, Beomgyu knocked on it twice and then turned around to give them a look. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards this situation, let’s not try to overwhelm her, alright?” He said, his gaze then straying to Taehyung, “she’s a nice girl and she doesn’t deserve to be treated badly.”

Beomgyu didn’t actually believe any of the boys would be rude, he knew them better than that. He just hoped they also understood how nerve-wracking this would be for you, because he hadn’t lied, you really were a nice girl. 

The door behind him opened to reveal another producer.

“Alright then, let’s meet your new member.”

-

-

-

“God, you have no idea how much I’m enjoying this right now.”

Your head tilted in question at the comment, hands coming up to steady the headphones encasing your ears. This was probably your third hour in the recording booth, Hyowon seeming to want to make sure your voice didn’t work before he let you off.

“You enjoy getting rid of my voice?” You asked with an amused smile, the comment making him shake his head with a laugh.

“No, no, that’s not it, I swear. It’s just your vocals,” he explained, “I’m sure you already know we don’t get a lot of high notes around here - I mean don’t get me wrong, Jimin and Seokjin do an incredible job, but there’s nothing like a female high note.”

“I’m assuming you’re a fan of high notes?” You asked, almost bursting into laughter when he nodded instantly. 

“You should ask the guys, they’re sick of me telling them to sing one every two minutes- oh my god,” he exclaimed suddenly, a thought evidently coming to him, “please tell me you can do a whistle.”

You chuckled shyly, a bit embarrassed by your answer, “my vocal coach doesn’t want me to do it much until I get the proper technique down, but I’ve done it a few times.”

“Oh, Y/N. You’re gonna get so sick of me.”

You laughed, beginning to take a liking to Hyowon. It was nice to know there would be at least one person so easygoing and friendly in this company. It was going to make these next few months a lot easier if the other members decided they didn’t like you.

You knew technically it didn’t matter, but that thought had been playing around in your mind a lot lately. The entire situation was weird, even you had to admit, but the moment BigHit had given you a call and proposed the idea, you knew you’d have to be crazy to turn something like this down, especially considering how difficult it’s been trying to stay afloat as a solo artist from a small company.

Unlike what the company had in mind, however, you weren’t planning on staying in BTS forever. Your plan was to just join the group for about a year, ensure your name got out there while you and BTS grew in popularity, and then announce your disbandment from the group with a heartfelt goodbye. Rest assured if any of the guys weren’t a fan of your presence, they would only have to hold out for a few months.

Still, the people pleaser in you was hoping they didn’t hate you immediately. 

“Okay, I think that just about wraps up-”

A knock suddenly sounded from the recording studio’s door, causing the two of you to eye it curiously. 

“I thought there was still 20 minutes left until my fried chicken came, it must have come early…” Hyowon muttered, getting up from his seat to get to the door. 

You slid the headphones off your head with a relieved sigh, satisfied with the work you put in today, though your mind was already racing with ways to improve for next time. You let them whirl as you strolled out of the recording booth and gently placed the headphones back on the table. But when you turned around, you were surprised to find a number of other men in the room.

Not just any men too, but your soon-to-be bandmates. 

And all their eyes were trained on you, making your own widen. 

You’d technically seen them all in photos from the research you’d conducted after BigHit’s call, but those didn’t seem to do them justice at all. They didn’t capture the tender look in Yoongi’s eyes, or the pretty accents in Hoseok’s features. Jin, who you had already thought looked straight out of a k-drama, somehow looked even better in real life, while Namjoon’s aura seemed to exude the feel of a leader. Even though the rest were sort of hidden behind the older members, you could tell they were all attractive; it was so intimidating.

Before you could say anything - or sprint out the door like you really wanted to do right now - you caught sight of Beomgyu in the lineup of men, a friendly smile gracing his lips as he made his way to your side. 

“Hey guys,” he greeted, clapping Hyowon on the back before placing a more gentle hand on your shoulder. It was difficult to meet his eyes when your gaze kept flickering wearily to the boys surrounding you, “we thought it would be nice to drop by and see how the recording was going.”

Hyowon leaned a casual arm on Beomgyu’s shoulder, a testament to their evolved friendship over the years.

“It’s going very well,” he answered, excitement radiating off him in waves, “the high notes in your next album are going to be incredible.”

A series of groans rose from a few of the boys, only two of the seven harbouring amused smirks. It took a moment for you to place their names: Jin and Jimin, Bangtan’s main visual and lead vocalist. 

The latter accidently caught your gaze, black hair and sharp jawline giving him an almost charismatic intensity. But before you could quickly look away, his face broke into a warm smile, soothing a few of your nerves instantly. 

At least one of them didn’t seem to hate you. 

“Well, then…” Beomgyu began, catching everyone’s attention, “Hyowon and I have a couple things we need to work on, so… um, we’ll be right here if you need us?”

Hyowon snickered at the awkwardness before Beomgyu grabbed his shirt and dragged him to the computer across the room, which of course wasn’t that far with how small the studio was. You still missed the comfort of his hand on your shoulder, now feeling very alone while facing people that may potentially hate your existence. 

Still, you had to make at least some effort, right?

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you offered, voice smaller than you meant for it to be. 

A series of greetings sounded from them, some softening at your tone, while others were unmoved. It was difficult to gauge their general feelings on your presence, which only seemed to make you more nervous. 

Taehyung broke off from the group to stand closer, a boxy smile aimed right at you. You tried not to, but even you couldn’t stop yourself from ogling his almost perfectly structured face and the tousled hair that fell so effortlessly across his forehead when he moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile shyly at his excitement. If you hadn’t been so timid, you might have noticed his lingering gaze on your features, “this is all so cool, isn’t it?”

You’d never really thought about it like that, your views on the situation being controlled entirely by your nerves up until now. But when he put it that way… you supposed he was right, it was kind of cool. 

“I guess so,” you admitted, slowly warming up to the idea. 

“I mean, seriously, this is so crazy!” He continued on, facing the other members,“it’s not everyday a group gets a new member three years in - and that too a girl! This is kinda uncharted territory, you know?”

“That’s what makes it a bit scary,” you admitted with a chuckle. You noticed Jimin’s eyes soften at your words and his lips part to say something, but before he could, Jungkook piped up from behind Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Y/L/N Y/N, would you?” He asked, his tone almost as shy as yours. You honestly hadn’t even realised he was there, but now that you had, you took in his doe eyes and ruffled dark brown hair. He kept having to push the silky locks out of his eyes, a motion you found insanely distracting. 

You nodded mindlessly, distantly surprised that he knew your last name without offering it. 

“Oh. Cool,” he nodded. Then he noticed your questioning look and quickly rushed to explain, “I think I’ve, um, heard your name somewhere.”

Seokjin’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at the younger boy, “hey, wait. Isn’t that the artist Jungkook listens to like all the time-?”

“So what’s your position?” Jungkook interrupted quickly, a bright shade of pink engulfing the sides of his neck. 

You blinked at Jungkook’s sudden change of topic, though you didn’t miss the slight panic in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, slightly amused by his reaction. Seokjin’s comment had not gone unnoticed by you; the fact that Jungkook liked your music was a comforting thought. 

“Vocalist,” you replied, deciding not to tease him over it, which elicited a look of relief on Jungkook’s face, “though Hyowon has said I’ll be doing so much harmonisation work with Seokjin and Jimin that it might as well be my actual position.”

Seokjin chuckled quietly, his plump lips spreading into a charming smile, though his gaze didn’t meet yours. In fact, you started to notice that he was keeping his gaze strictly on the other members even as you spoke. 

“Good, it’ll finally get him off our backs,” Yoongi muttered, revealing a much more laid back personality instead of the cold persona he seemed to emit on camera, “I’m a rapper and that man still tries to get me to put in a couple high notes.”

Hyowon turned from the mixing desk to face the group with an evidently offended huff, reminding you of the producers’ presence. 

“You all complain now, but just wait until you hear the final product. You’ll be thanking me.”

“Sure,” Yoongi deadpanned, turning to you once again, “can you rap?”

You tilted your head in thought. 

“I think I can hold my own if I had to, though it’s not really my style.”

“That’s fine, you’re one of us vocalists,” Taehyung waved his hand around dramatically, throwing a possessive arm around your shoulder as he eyed Yoongi, “no one wants to be one of the rappers anyway.”

“Weren’t you just yesterday begging Namjoon to let you on Cypher?” Jimin raised a brow.

“No.”

“Do you dance, Y/N?” Hoseok asked, interrupting the ridiculous conversation before it turned into a fight, though the way he leaned forward made it clear he was very interested in your answer. 

That question had you nervously rocking against your heels, a hesitant breath escaping your lips before you replied, “definitely not as good as you guys, but I’m ready to put in a ton of work to get better, I swear.”

Unlike the look of displeasure you expected, Hoseok nodded in your direction with a satisfied smile. It was a relief that he was willing to at least give you a chance before jumping to disdain. His gaze lingered as he scanned you from head to toe, assessing your potential with intensity.

“Hard work is a must,” Namjoon emphasised, the first time he’d spoken since walking into the room. Even though no one had been speaking, it felt as though a hush had washed over the group, a testament to the weight of his words as a leader. You’d been noticing Namjoon staring at you from the beginning, the look not exactly scorn, but not very inviting either. It made you squirm in your spot, doubt creeping into your thoughts, “being a soloist is pretty different from being in a group, which means you’ll have to put in a lot of hard work - it’s not going to be easy.”

You straightened, feeling as though you were being tested, “I understand completely. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to put in the work. You don’t have to worry about me being a drain.”

Namjoon’s hard gaze flickered before he regarded you for a moment, no indication as to whether you had passed his mini “test” or not, “alright.”

A soft hand squeezed your shoulder gently, belonging to none other than Jimin. The proximity of his warm eyes made your face heat, something Jimin seemed to notice. His smile became teasing, “don’t say that, no one here thinks that you’re a drain. I think you’re going to do great. And if you have any questions don’t hesitate to-”

“I have a question actually,” Namjoon’s voice sounded once again, gaze still trained on you. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of tension run through you every time he spoke, “I’m curious to know why you agreed to this whole thing.”

You pursed your lips, not entirely sure how to reply. On one hand, you didn’t mind telling them about your plan, in fact, you bet they’d be relieved to hear it. But on the other hand, you were slightly afraid that they might think you were using them - which technically speaking you were, but also technically speaking they were using you too. It was an odd predicament.

“My solo career wasn’t doing as well as I had wished it would - plus, the excitement of something new mostly,” you offered. Only half the truth, but just enough to relieve you of your guilty conscience. 

“Well, the contract’s been signed and you’re here now, so you’re one of us,” Taehyung exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but be grateful for how welcoming he’d been since the start. Not that the others haven’t, Jimin’s presence had been like a warm blanket while Jungkook’s secret admiration had been an honour. And you completely understood everyone else’s hesitation, you’d be weirded out too if someone was randomly added to your group three years later. Still, the warm welcomes had made you insanely grateful. 

Taehyung steered you towards the door of the studio, “and what better way to celebrate than to eat some steaming barbeque and noodles.”

“Oh oka-” You barely had time to answer before you were being steered out the door by an enthusiastic Taehyung, the rest shrugging before following behind with casual chatter and mumbles. Soon the studio was empty, no one but Namjoon, Beomgyu, and Hyowon left. 

Namjoon stood with his hands crossed over his chest, gaze fixed on the door when he spoke.

“The contract’s already signed, huh?” he repeated, gaze shifting to the other two men in the room, “and what if we had said no?”

“Namjoon,” Beomgyu pleaded, his face falling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, realising that he was directing his anger onto the wrong people, “sorry. I know this isn’t on you, man.”

“Come on, Joon,” Hyowon said, feeling bad for his friend, “she seems nice, and she’s got an incredible voice. You may not like the situation, but at least she’ll be a good addition to the group, no?”

Namjoon’s gaze strayed back to the open door, letting his thoughts whirl around in his head. He didn’t want to voice them out loud because, technically speaking, he didn’t really have any tangible evidence that went against what Hyowon was saying yet.

He uncrossed his arms with a sigh.  

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

[kdsturn]

toxic dealer chris! .ᐟ

done with this shit-꩜

-did not proof read this shit so .ᐟ

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“i don’t understand why you trippin bru you knew what this was.”— is the only excuse chris has been giving and you were getting sick of it. you and chris never really argued, there was never anything to argue about since you guys weren't even in a relationship in the first place—but a few days prior chris was sat on your couch smoking a blunt telling you how much he only wanted you and that he wasn’t messing with anyone else, that made you feel good and you trusted that he was being serious.

that feeling changed an hour ago when chris was sleeping on your couch. you seen a msg come up on his phone , you told yourself not to look but as more msgs came in from the same number you couldn’t help yourself . as soon as you opened the msgs your heart sank seeing all the texts this girl was sending chris ,the more you scrolled through their msgs the more you felt sick. you look at chris as he wakes up from the couch and sees you with his phone—

chris was quick to snatch his phone and get defensive “why you on my shit bru” was the first words that left his mouth. “i knew i should have never trusted you chris” you couldn’t even look at him as you said this , you just stood up and walked to your room grabbing chris’s shoes, hoodie, gun, and the chain he has sitting on your dresser before walking to the living room and throwing it all at chris.

“you need to leave” was all you said before walking back into you’r room, chris was quick to follow you “why you trippin actin like my fuckin girlfriend or sum” chris shoots following you into your room. you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him , just sat on your bed looking at your phone “can you stop actin like a stuck up bitch for one sec.” as soon as chris said that you had enough, you were quick to get off your bed and start shoving him out your room and to the front door “i’m not playing your games anymore chris i’m tired of your disrespectful shit “ you shove all his belongings into his hands before shoving his chest out the door and slamming it. Chris stumbles back momentarily before he recovers,He knew he was pushing your buttons, he knew he was taking it too far, but he’s still surprised that you’re actually doing this. “Nah, you deadass right now?” chris yells from outside of your door “you know what fuck your crybaby ass ion need this shit bru” chris yells one last time before getting into his car and speeding away.

its been two hours since chris left and you decided you couldn’t do whatever you were doing with him anymore, it was ruining you. you stared at his missed calls for what felt like hours before finally pressing the block button, you were done with this shit.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

i might make a pt 2 to this idk ??꩜ .ᐟ

[gensideas]

jealous jealous, girl.

summary; y/n is jealous of rafe’s girl friend.

content * advisory; none. just rafe being a tease.

It started off with Rafe's girl-friend wanting to come over everyday after golf practice. It’s not that you were mad about. it was the fact she knew how you felt when she asked questions liked that. it always made you feel uneasy.

then, she would ask to come over for dinner, and rafe the guy he is, he would say yes. You thought the way you felt was stupid. maybe you were just over-reacting, right?

it was one of those nights yet again. the one where rafe’s “friend” would ask to come over for the millionth time in 4 days. you were getting sick of it.

—

“rafe, this is the millionth time she’s come over. does she have too, again?” you asked, not looking away from your phone. “Look doll, it’s the last time I swear. I don't know why she keeps asking.” Rafe responded, standing behind you. “you said that last time, and she came the next day. can she just not come today?” you sighed, turning around. Rafe walked behind you, “baby, please. i pink swear this time. it’s the last time she’ll come over.”

you hummed, going upstairs to your shared bedroom.

you’d had enough and didn’t wanna hear him beg and keep a promise he couldn’t every time.

—

Rafe was in the kitchen cleaning when he heard a knock at the door. He rushed to open, greeting his friend. “Ruby, hey.” he moved to the side, letting her in. “hey rafey.” she walked into the kitchen/living room. “Wow, it's gorgeous here. Did you paint the walls?” ruby asked, sitting at the kitchen table. rafe sat down, “uh yeah, y/n painted it.” —“oh, it’s…nice.”

—

“sooo, how’s your day been?” ruby asked, taking a bite from her sandwich. “uh, it’s been alright. mostly been out with y/n running errands.” Rafe smiled, eating some alfredo. — ruby sighed, “oh, well um, that’s very nice.”

“yeah, best part of my day really.” Rafe replied, looking up at ruby. “uh rafe, i was thinking..im going to watch this movie on saturday. it’s called heart eyes or something. i was wondering if you wanted to go? — you know, just you and me?” ruby spoke, her cheeks flushed.

Rafe knew you wouldn’t like the idea of him being with another girl ALONE. let alone, you guys have plans that day. —

“uh, I can't. I have plans with y/n that I can't cancel." Rafe replied, standing up to get a drink. “oh uh, doing what exactly?” ruby asked, curious about what HER boy best friend had planned. “me and y/n are planning our vacation for the summer. we’re planning our wedding.” Rafe responded, pointing a glass of whiskey.

Ruby had enough. she was tired of seeing her friend with another girl. even if it’s not her, she wanted him all to herself. “seriously rafe? marriage?! i’ve been in love with you since forever and you choose that-“ ruby was cut off. “that what? because if you say another word, i don’t wanna hear it. if you have a problem, you can leave." Rafe turned around to look at ruby. Ruby just grabs her things and walks out. Rafe sighs, happy that she was finally gone.

—

as you were reading, you heard a knock on the bedroom door. “y/n, doll?” rafe called from the other side. “what is it, rafe?” you asked, walking towards the door. you opened it to be met with a relieved rafe. “she isn’t coming over anymore.” rafe responded, walking into the bedroom to sit on the bed. “and why is that?” you asked, surprised. “she fucking admitted her feelings towards me after i told her we were leaving for vacation.” rafe exclaimed, laying back into the bed.

—

you felt angry. not with him, well maybe a little but, mainly with ruby. she KNEW you guys were engaged, and still admitted her feelings in the midst of their lunch. “she did what..?” you sighed, clenching your fist. “she admitted her feelings..” rafe sighed. “oh i’m so gonna kill her. why would she do that.” — “i may or may not have told her we were planning our wedding.” — “you did what?!” you sternly spoke, eyes darting at rafe. “im sorry! i didn’t know she was going to admit her feelings.” rafe frowned, sitting back up.

—

“i swear to god. she’s sooooo gonna get it. she’s dead.” you responded, walking into the shared bathroom. rafe followed behind, “what’s got you so upset?” — “she not only one, admitted her feelings. but she knows!” you replied, trying to take a deep breath. rafe looks at you for a second before inching closer to your lips. “what are yo-“ — rafe kissed you, placing his hands on your waist.

—

“what was that for?” you chuckled, looking up at him. “so i could shut you up for a second.” he smirked, looking down at you.

“well, ruby is a great “friend” ain’t she?” you sarcastically asked, looking away.

“what? you jealous? hm.”

© 2024 GENSIDEAS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. (PLEASE DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!)

[forsaken-headcanons]

You know what? I mustered up the courage to come off of anon just for this. (Not gonna tag myself, but knowing my writing style, it’s probably gonna be obvious who I am lol.)

So uh. I’m fine now, but for some context: I was kinda upset earlier. And like a perfectly normal person, I wrote some self-indulgent rarepair stuff to make myself feel better. And now I’m sharing it with you all! Hope you don’t mind :]

Elliot / John Doe

Elliot once ‘tamed’ a feral John by feeding him pizza. It was a complete accident, too. He was trying to give it to Shedletsky, but John got in the way. 

It didn’t stop him from attacking the others, unfortunately. But he did leave Elliot alone for the rest of the round.

Being able to neutralize a threat like that is a big deal, so you bet that Elliot tried that shi again. Through trial and error, he discovered that John’s favourite is a plain old cheese pizza.

John’s memories while feral are fuzzy at best, and complete blanks at worst. Thus, he enjoyed getting properly aquatinted with Elliot after he managed to snap out of it about halfway through a round.

Using that one ‘the killers share a cabin across the water from the survivors cabin’ hc, John and Elliot will sometimes “meet up” between rounds by standing on their respective docks and shouting across the water at one another. They’d chat for as long as they could about the most random of things, just enjoying each other’s company.

Elliot once found a way to get a box of cheese pizza over to the killers side, and the gesture almost brought John to tears.

Noob / 1x1x1x1

Since there’s only four killers (as of writing this), I imagine that there’s barely any breaks between being chosen for rounds. And if the Spectre’s feeling particularly mean, one killer might get chosen over and over and over- (totally didn’t experience a server once with like 4 or 5 Mafiosos that we got back to back.)

See where I’m heading with this? The Spectre ends up favouring 1x1x1x1 for a while, which leads to him being worked to the bone. I’d say ‘poor guy’, but this is probably karma at this point…

No one really thinks much about it until 1x just straight-up collapses of exhaustion during a round. That was the moment that everyone realized that the killers weren’t these unstoppable machines of death; that they were bound by the same rules mortals were.

Maybe it’s naivety. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something else entirely. But regardless, Noob’s the only one brave (or stupid) enough to approach a killer like this. The embodiment of hatred was clearly unhappy, but it’s not like he could hurt anyone in this state.

While the others did their thing, Noob kept watch over 1x. Mostly to make sure he didn’t start killing again, but also because a small part of him felt bad for the guy.

Even after the round ended and 1x got the rest he needed, Noob didn’t seem to fear him as much after that. It initially annoyed 1x1x1x1, but he eventually started to see the noob in a slightly different light when they offered themselves up after realizing that he hadn’t gotten a single kill in like, four rounds (not back to back this time, luckily. But still.)

1x eventually confronted Noob on their behaviour, and you know what he said? Noob admitted that he thought 1x could be a better (and less murder-y) person if he just had a friend. 

And the crazy thing is, they were kind-of right.

There. I said my piece. I was oddly scared about sharing these for whatever reason, but yeah. I like imagining these goobers doing silly things together, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t/lh

(I should honestly write a fic for this or something. I have way too many ideas with these guys-)

Ahh, you're the fella who I see liking all of my posts. Hello there.

Really nice headcanons and really nice rarepairs. I hope you're alright now and whatever upset you is now dealt with.

[shutupandwatchsmosh]

crossing the line ꥟ luke alvez

summary: after you get mildly injured on a case, luke refuses to leave you alone and insists on driving you home. so obviously, you end up inviting him inside. just to be nice. no other reason. pairing: luke alvez x bau!reader warnings: very vague mentions of a head injury/concussion, they drink like one glass of wine each, and luke being incredibly and disgustingly smooth. i feel like that deserves a warning. wc: 2.1k words a/n: thank you to the aaron hotchner and luke alvez rp accs on twitter for that far right pic :P definitely helped with inspiration. masterlist.

The car ride was filled with the sound of the radio playing soft melodic tunes and the occasional hum of the tires against the road, but the air inside was charged. Luke’s hands were firm on the wheel, knuckles flexing every so often, and every few seconds, he’d glance sideways at you, his eyes sharp even in the dim glow of the passing streetlights.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time since you’d left the scene.

You sighed, pressing your head back against the seat. “Luke. I’m fine. The paramedics checked me over, twice, at your insistence, and I assure you, I will live.”

He scoffed. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. You’re the same person who insisted that a sprained ankle was ‘barely anything’ and then refused to take painkillers until Prentiss literally threatened to bench you.” “Okay, that was one time, Alvez,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

Luke shook his head, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. “Yeah, and that one time was more than enough for me to know that you’re proficient at downplaying anything and everything.”

“Aww, you care about me,” you smirked, tilting your head to the side. “Maybe.” The man exhaled through his nose, clearly exasperated by your teasing, but you don’t miss the slight smirk playing on his lips. “You just love pushing my buttons, don’t you?”

“Oh, so much.”

His deep chuckle sent warmth through your chest, and you allowed yourself a moment to just watch him. The strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he always checked on you even when he pretended he wasn’t worried.

He was so easy to flirt with. So easy to want.

And that was the problem.

For months now, you had both danced along this razor-thin line between friendship and something so much more. The team saw it as clear as day. Garcia had started a teamwide bet on when you two would finally do something about it. Even Rossi, who rarely inserted himself into office gossip and preferred to observe from a distance, had once casually said at a briefing:

“When you two finally figure it out, just let me know. I’ll bring the wine.”

It wasn’t a question of if something would ever happen between you.

It was when.

And whether either of you would finally stop pretending.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

The memory of your first day at the BAU surfaced before you could stop it. You’d been nervous, of course. Not that you’d ever let it show, but it was the BAU. You knew what kind of ring you were stepping foot into.

And then, as you stood in the bullpen, silently taking it all in, a voice had cut through the noise-

“You must be the new recruit.”

You turned, and there he was.

Luke Alvez.

Tall, and devastatingly good-looking, with eyes that made your stomach do embarrassing things.

He had smirked- cocky- but not in a way that irritated you. No, in a way that made you immediately want to challenge him.

“I prefer special agent, actually,” you had said, lifting your chin slightly.

That made him chuckle, something deep and oh so warm. “Fair enough, special agent. Luke Alvez. Welcome to the BAU.”

From that moment, you two had clicked instantly.

Maybe it was the way you could keep up with his wit. Maybe it was the easy way he made you laugh. Maybe it was the way you could both hold your own against each other in playful banter without ever taking things too seriously.

But the flirting? 

That had started immediately.

And it had never stopped.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

Somewhere along the way, you and Luke fell into an unspoken tradition.

Whenever you beat him to the office, you brought him coffee. Whenever he beat you, he brought you coffee.

It was an extremely minor thing, something that the rest of the team hadn’t even noticed at first.

Until one morning, when JJ walked past the kitchenette and froze.

She tilted her head, then turned to Emily. “Did you know they have a whole coffee… thing?”

Emily, who had been watching the two of you banter by the coffee machine for weeks, took a sip of her own coffee. “Of course they do.”JJ narrowed her eyes. “So we’re still pretending they’re not into each other?”“Guess so, Jayje.”

That morning, you handed Luke his coffee with a smirk. “Black, no sugar, just the way you like it.”He took the cup with a smile as he stepped closer. “See, this is why you’re my favourite.”“Your favourite what?” You tilted your head, grinning.

He held your gaze. “Everything.”

He said it so smoothly, so effortlessly, that you actually stumbled trying to find a response.

He laughed, winking as he walked away, leaving you to glare after him.

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath, but your lips betrayed you, curling into a smile anyway.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

Luke pulled up to your place, putting the SUV in park before turning to look at you fully.

“You want me to walk you up?” he asked, voice lighter now but still with that edge of concern.

“Luke, I barely got knocked out. I didn’t get shot.”

“Didn’t answer my cariño.”

Your stomach did a stupid little flip. Of course it did.

You rolled your eyes as you opened the car door. “Fine, come on. Since you’re so worried about me.”

Luke chuckled, getting out and following up the short path to your front door.

You weren’t sure what made you say it- maybe it was the warmth of the night, maybe it was the fact that this had been building for so damn long, or maybe it indeed was the fact that you had got hit in the head today-

But before you could think too hard, you turned to him and asked:

“Do you wanna come in?”

He blinked. “What?”

You lifted a brow, shrugging to feign nonchalance. “I have wine. Unless… you’ve got somewhere better to be?”

Something flickered in his gaze. Something dark, something interested.

Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips. “I could be convinced,” he murmured.

⊱ ───────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ───────── ⊰

The door clicked shut behind the two of you as you stepped into your home, the low hum of the city outside fading into the warmth of your place.

Luke shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair as he looked around. “You know, I was starting to think I’d never see the inside of your place,” he teased.

You smirked, heading to the kitchen. “That’s because you weren’t invited. Until now.”

He let out a chuckle as he followed you in. “Ah, so I should feel honoured?”

You glanced over your shoulder, grabbing a bottle of wine. “Very.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you grab two glasses. “I’ll try not to let the privilege go to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was evident as you poured the wine, handing him a glass before clinking yours against his. “To surviving another case.”

His dark eyes held yours. “To you getting through it in one piece.”

“Oh, so now you wanna admit you were worried?” You took a sip, letting the warmth of the wine spread through you. 

Luke scoffed, setting his glass down. “I never denied it.”

You arched a brow playfully. “Mhm, but you evaded the question. Besides, you were hovering over me like I was on my deathbed.”

He exhaled, shaking his head. “You hit your head. You were on the ground longer than I liked. And if the paramedics had concluded you had a concussion, then what?”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something more behind his words. A tension in his shoulders. Something unspoken.

You set your own glass down. “Luke.”

His jaw tensed. “What?”

“You don’t have to play it off.”

He met your gaze, something flickering in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke- the silence was tense.

Then, finally, Luke sighed as he ran a hand over his face. “I was worried,” he admitted. “More than I should be. More than I want to be.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Because you-” He stopped, looking down at his wine glass as his grip tightened around the edge of the counter. “Because it’s you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. And then several more. “Luke-”

He lifted his gaze back to yours, something raw in his expression. “You know what I mean.”

You did.

Your stomach flipped as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter, your mouth suddenly dry despite the wine.

The air shifted between you.

Something that had always been there, present but unspoken, settled into place.

You licked your lips, voice quieter now. “Say it.”

Luke let out a soft, almost breathless chuckle. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

You nodded, taking a step closer. “I really am.”

He studied you for a moment, searching your face for something. Maybe hesitation. Maybe doubt.

But he didn’t find either.

He sighed, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of his glass as his voice lowered. “You drive me crazy.”

Your lips twitched. “That’s one way to start a confession.”

Luke huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean it, cariño. Since the day you walked into that bullpen, I knew.” He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everyone knew.  Rossi. Prentiss. Even Reid, and that man is oblivious when it comes to this stuff. Hell, we’re the only ones who’ve been pretending this isn’t happening.”

“What isn’t happening?”

Luke gave you a look. “Us.”

Your breath caught.

There it was. 

The unspoken thing finally given a name.

You inhaled deeply, exhaling through your nose. “Took you long enough.”

Luke blinked. “Excuse me?”

You grinned, stepping fully into his space now. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit it, Alvez.”

His lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to turn the tables on him.

You set your glass down next to his, then tilted your head, voice dropping just a bit. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

Luke let out a slow, almost exasperated breath, his fingers twitching at his sides.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached for you.

It wasn’t tentative.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was deliberate.

One of his hands slid to your waist, the other to the side of your face, fingers warm against your skin.

He hovered there for a moment, so damn close. His lips barely a breath away.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice was quiet, almost like he was giving you an out.

You exhaled, eyes locked onto his. “Not a chance in hell.”

And that was all it took.

Luke kissed you.

Hard, deep, like he had been holding back for eons, and the floodgates had finally been opened.

You melted into him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer.

He groaned softly against your lips, his grip tightening at your waist. His other hand slid into your hair, tilting your head just right as he kissed you deeper.

And God, it was everything.

The months of tension. The teasing looks. The incessant flirting.

All of it boiled down to this.

You broke away only when the need for air became undeniable, your forehead resting against his.

Luke exhaled a shaky breath. "We should stop."

You hummed, lips still aching from his. "Why?"

His fingers flexed slightly at your waist. "Because I don’t wanna be drunk when I take this further."

Your heart stuttered.

Then, warmth spread through your chest, because damn it, that was the most Luke Alvez thing he could have said.

You swallowed, heart pounding. "You wanna take this further?"

Luke let out a soft chuckle, brushing his thumb against your hip. "Tell me you don’t."

You bit your lip, shaking your head. "I’d be lying."

Luke grinned, pressing the quickest, softest kiss to your lips before pulling back.

"Then let’s do this right," he murmured.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Luke chuckled, low and rough. "Yeah, I’ve heard."

You kissed him again, softer this time, just because you could.

Then, after a long pause-

"Stay?" you whispered.

Luke exhaled, pressing another slow kiss to your lips before murmuring, "Yeah. I'll stay."