#TOO. MANY. NAMES. THAT. STARTED. WITH. THE LETTER. F.

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[reiderwriter]

💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.

A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong. 

Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot. 

He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him. 

“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.” 

His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there. 

“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-” 

“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”

“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.” 

Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him. 

“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.” 

The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight. 

“Shall we get started?”

To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell. 

Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation. 

Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at. 

He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.

Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0. 

Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type. 

You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2. 

Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged. 

You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground. 

“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.

“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group. 

While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you. 

“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?” 

“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.” 

The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions. 

“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended. 

“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you. 

Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship. 

You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him. 

You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well. 

“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours. 

A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind. 

“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.” 

“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.” 

Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who. 

You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit. 

You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning. 

You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was. 

On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance. 

You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything. 

All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table. 

You had a murderer to catch.

Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up. 

Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.

“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.” 

He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table. 

“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”

“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”

“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."

“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’

With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight. 

You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up. 

“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in. 

Probably to remove you from the room. 

“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around. 

“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.” 

You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you. 

Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you. 

He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher. 

“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room. 

“What? How is this my fault?” 

“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.” 

You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.

“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”

His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it. 

“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?” 

His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward. 

But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops. 

You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you. 

“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet. 

“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced. 

“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.” 

With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath. 

“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear. 

“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth. 

“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting. 

“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds. 

“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”

With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go. 

His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more. 

“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered. 

“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further. 

You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you. 

You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again. 

“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other. 

You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan. 

“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened. 

“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you. 

“You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave. 

You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you. 

“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office. 

“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands. 

“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him. 

“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you. 

You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood. 

You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on. 

Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.

You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other. 

You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise. 

In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad. 

You'd given him the cold shoulder  but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't. 

Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation. 

You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space. 

The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry. 

You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you. 

“That's my seat.” 

You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder. 

“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.” 

“But that is my seat-” 

“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument.  Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been. 

“Spencer!”

“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly. 

Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs. 

“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight. 

You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face. 

“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep. 

His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything. 

You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement. 

“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.

“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner. 

You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.

Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.

“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.

The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed. 

He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane. 

“You're being slow today.” 

“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone. 

“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass. 

“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.” 

With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him. 

Two could play at that game. 

In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you. 

“Y/N, cut it out.”

“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder. 

He didn't wither. 

Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass. 

“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition. 

“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace. 

“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there. 

“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye. 

“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”

“Long?” He smirked.

“And hard in your pants.” 

He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear. 

“That was my gun.” 

“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid. 

It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself. 

And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie. 

There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples. 

But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him. 

He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong? 

Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk. 

When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you. 

It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer. 

You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer. 

There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case. 

Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in. 

The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels.. 

Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang. 

It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves. 

You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait. 

The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore. 

You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide. 

“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss. 

You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.

You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”

“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question. 

“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again. 

This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall. 

“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”

“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.

“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.” 

“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.” 

“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees. 

“What? Sp-” 

In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat. 

As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly. 

Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat. 

“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”

You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.

With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth. 

You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him. 

Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you. 

He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.

He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom. 

Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you. 

“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.” 

Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you. 

Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard. 

“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?” 

“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock. 

Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him. 

And then he flipped you over so he was back in control. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”

You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.

You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts. 

Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.

You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex. 

You screamed your pleasure. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours. 

He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you. 

He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder. 

You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.

You didn't even know your body bent that way. 

Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy. 

He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore. 

He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another. 

“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still. 

“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.” 

You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you. 

Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion. 

“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.

“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough. 

“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.

Anymore, at least. 

“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling. 

“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You haven't left yet.” 

“I haven't.”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”

“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body. 

“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?” 

“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”

“Exactly,” you said. 

“Exactly,” he parrotted.

Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to. 

[changbunnies]

Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home. 

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip. 

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug. 

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell. 

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before. 

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him. 

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands. 

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary. 

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile. 

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?” 

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door. 

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again. 

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t. 

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest. 

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home. 

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet. 

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin. 

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours. 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now. 

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason. 

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again. 

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him. 

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments. 

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss. 

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with. 

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers. 

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral. 

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back. 

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet. 

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it. 

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it. 

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do. 

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours. 

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons. 

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis. 

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you. 

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too. 

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel. 

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin. 

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover. 

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had. 

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you. 

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way. 

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you. 

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you. 

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him. 

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..? 

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases. 

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask. 

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-” 

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap. 

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it. 

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both? 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work. 

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction. 

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock? 

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally. 

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox. 

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions. 

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.  

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you. 

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you. 

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I���m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need. 

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain. 

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him. 

How could he ever think you don’t love him? 

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud. 

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath. 

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so. 

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is. 

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward. 

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open. 

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle. 

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.” 

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible.. 

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him. 

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself. 

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you. 

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them. 

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them. 

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.” 

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably. 

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention. 

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him. 

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions. 

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him. 

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it. 

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes. 

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs. 

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit. 

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady. 

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does. 

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.” 

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly. 

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be. 

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has. 

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do. 

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?” 

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been. 

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you. 

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.” 

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again. 

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him. 

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing. 

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[morning-star-joy]

daydreams

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak Jackson Era

Summary: It's been years since Joel's kissed anybody, and your lips are all he can think about.

Tags/Warnings: Soft, Touch-Starved, Pining Joel. Grumpy x Sunshine. Resolved Tension. Mentions of alcohol and food consumption. Brief mentions of sexual desire. Entirely in Joel's POV. No mention of Reader's age or appearance other than wearing lipstick in one scene.

Wordcount: 6.4k

A/N: Really enjoyed exploring an entire Joel x Reader fic all in his head, focusing on how he falls in love with Reader. Big thank you to @joelsgreys who was excited about this idea with me, and @cupofjoel who always inspires me with her own amazing work (and that Clicker joke she made that ended up in this fic hehe)!

Here's my Kofi if you're interested in supporting my work further💜

Beautiful dividers by @saradika

Masterlist

People fucking love you.

It was the first of many things that Joel was burdened to discover about you, small facts and inconsequential incidents about who you were as a person that floated around in his subconscious until they burrowed under his skin, much like you did.

He could remember checking his patrol schedule on the board one chilly autumn day. A scarf that was decades old but new to him, too soft for his rough skin, was wrapped around his neck and keeping him warm while he peered over the heads of two men crowding in front of the arranged names.

Despite Joel’s size, he had always been good at not being seen if he didn’t want to be, at least when it counted. It was a harder habit to keep up with in Jackson, a place where everybody wanted to know anybody at all. The feeling of at least one set of eyes on him at all times when he walked the streets was an odd juxtaposition to the foreign comfort that radiated inside the town’s tall walls.

Not a watch kept on him, but curiosity that peered at him around every corner. He had thought it would die down eventually, but it lingered with a stubbornness even years later.

Now though, both men didn’t have a care in the world for his presence behind him, crowding around the board and a pair of names he couldn’t quite glimpse until one of them turned, jumping at the sight of the unintentionally imposing figure at their back.

“Oh!” the man let out a noise of surprise before recomposing. He was a newer patrolman, his name starting with a C, Chuck or something. “Joel, hey man. Didn’t see you there.”

The familiarity in the way his name is spoken makes Joel bristle for a moment, but he calms his raised hackles before it can be noticed.

Back in Boston, his name had been a familiar one spoken too. But hints of apprehension, even fear crept around the syllables of those who knew it, those who had heard it whispered in the alleys of where he’d left somebody’s blood splattered against the dilapidated brick walls.

“Hey,” the other patrolman offers in greeting when he notices the pair aren’t alone anymore, and Joel nods, glancing towards the two names their heads had been bent down around when they moved out of the way.

There’s a name he doesn’t have a face to place to it, another person new to patrol. He’d only seen the name in passing on the board each time he checked assignments recently, though this time it's right above his own, listed as his partner on his next route.

“Lucky man,” the other patrolman says with a clap to Joel’s shoulder, and he hates it, jaw setting tight enough that the first patrolman gently nudges his friend away with a wary look.

“I’m always stuck with Willy,” the first one says, and Joel glances back towards the board, searching for that name and seeing it paired with Chad. Names for faces, a common courtesy in the settlement, one he still had a hard time keeping up with sometimes, even years into being here. “Been dying for a chance to head out with her.”

There’s a gesture back towards the name paired with Joel’s, and he stares at the letters written into the thin wooden plaques that are used to arrange assignments on the board. Stares so much even as his fellow patrolmen leave, chattering amongst themselves about Joel’s new partner as he frowns in confusion over why it wasn’t his brother’s name.

“You could use some friends,” Tommy explains with a jovial smile when Joel shows up on his doorstep to question him about the change, though there’s an undertone of ribbing to his tone that makes Joel glare at the younger man. “I figure she’s the perfect one to bring you out of that stubborn shell.”

Joel scoffs at that, brows still knitted together in frustration as he gets ready for bed the night before he’ll have to wake up early to head out with this unknown person on patrol. He’s annoyed over the idea of something as irrelevant as socialization trumping protection on his route, frustrated that he’d have to watch his own back for the dangers only a human could pose, as much as the trail ahead of him for Infected.

But then he meets you, and he understands.

At least, Joel understands why those men had been jealous of his patrol partner when he shows up at the assignment board the next morning, hoping to grab a hot drink in one of the thermoses provided before heading out. He prays for at least the last dregs of some coffee when he sees a small gathering of other patrolmen, including the two from before. All smiles and laughter, until one turns their head towards him.

Joel meets your eyes for the first time, a smile gracing your face as he does so, and he understands.

“Joel Miller,” is the first thing you ever say to him by way of greeting, uttering the syllables in near disbelief, like he’s some fabled myth you’ve finally caught a glimpse of. There’s an infectious, positive energy in the way you say his name to him, in the way you say everything, he’ll come to find. Like there’s things in the world still worthy of being spoken with such excitement. “Good to finally meet you.”

He just nods, eyes flickering to the disappointment on the faces of those gathered around you as your attention focuses solely on him. You move closer, holding up two thermoses in hand, Joel’s gaze narrowing down to them as you gesture with each and ask, “Coffee or tea?”

With a blink, he stares at each before looking back up into your face, noticing the hint of amusement across your features as his lips part, and the first thing he utters in your presence is an awkward hedge of, “Uh.”

Your lips quirk up into a wider smile, and Joel notices then that for all its brightness, it's almost half a smirk. There’s humor in your gaze, and he feels those sharp hackles of his start to rise again until you clarify kindly, “Which do you prefer?”

His brows knit together, looking back down into your hands, and he realizes you’re offering him the choice of which one he wants for the morning.

“Coffee,” he says instantly before his mind can catch up, and the point of your teeth peek past your lips now in a grin when you pass the thermos to him.

“Smart man,” you comment in passing, oblivious to how the two simple words will stick into his mind and replay themselves in the exact tone of your voice for weeks to come. “I prefer tea, anyway.”

You raise your own thermos to his, eyes twinkling with that same good humor, that warm mirth that suddenly makes Joel’s stomach flip when you add, “Looks like the start of a beautiful partnership.”

It is.

Joel hates to admit it, but you work startlingly well together.

He’s paranoid at first, glancing back over his shoulder at you every now and then, but your eyes are always trained on the area around you, keeping diligent watch. Except for when he’s staring at you for too long, for reasons he doesn’t know yet, or is too stubborn to believe.

You somehow always catch him in those stolen moments, smiling at him when he whips his head back around to refocus on the trail in front of him. Sometimes there’s a soft chuckle under your breath when he does so, and those are the times he stubbornly faces ahead for the rest of patrol, so you won’t see the heat creeping into his face that he curses every time you bring it out of him.

He’s too goddamn old to be blushing like a schoolboy, but around you, his body betrays his age and does it anyway.

Sometimes you talk to him. Joel can’t figure out for the life of him why. You certainly aren’t the type to ever be searching for conversation, a whole host of willing participants to speak with you gathering around you every morning before you set out for patrol with him.

But you talk to him anyway. Offer things about yourself and ask him questions in return, ones he hardly answers with more than a few words, if he even replies at all.

That doesn’t bother you. You continue the conversation, and though he barely says a thing, you manage to make him still feel involved. Like you’re not just talking at him, but with him.

It’s just something about you, Joel eventually realizes. There’s a charm about you that goes beyond just a natural charisma. It’s a force of gravity, as inexplicable as it is irresistible, pulling in those around you, and they don’t even care. They want it.

Because you’re not simply bubbly and friendly, but you’re warm. Warm and bright, pure sunshine that brighten up the shortening days, and at some point through that fall of patrolling with you, Joel finds himself riding beside you instead of in front of you.

He nods more to what you say, following along better to whatever stories you’re sharing that morning, tales you never seem to run out of. He starts to answer your questions with sentences instead of words. Sometimes, he sneaks glances at you, and he’s always shocked in the moments when you’re already looking at him.

At first, Joel thinks he’s caught you in those moments. But you just smile at him when his eyes meet yours, unbothered by him noticing your attention on him, and he’s the one turning away yet again, facing the trees away from you so you won’t notice what that soft laughter of yours does to him.

You’re also more than capable in a fight, proving yourself time and time again in sticky situations, and soon enough, Joel doesn’t really mind waking up those early mornings when he knows you’ll be waiting for him with a thermos in each hand. He looks forward to an unnecessary apology on your lips if there’s no coffee that day, and the way you make him take a hot drink anyway—sometimes a pastry too, gently chiding him on taking better care of himself.

“I need you all big and strong for patrol,” you teased him once, but you still glance up and down his body with an appreciation he doesn’t think should be for him, even as he greedily drinks it in anyway. 

Then you wink, and he finds himself unable to make eye contact with you for the rest of the day.

Even then, he knows you’ll have his back, as he has yours.

Yeah, you work well together.

So well, in fact, that he finds his mood takes a sharp decline when he checks the assignment board months into being on patrol with you, and sees Tommy’s name paired with his again.

It makes sense. Winter arrives in Jackson, and with it, increased numbers of Infected on patrol. Joel needs to work with Tommy to clear out the routes hit the worst by hordes, for the good of the settlement.

Joel had never hated practicality before, but he does in that moment he first sees your name paired with Chad.

Chad, the young man with a stupid grin on his face while his buddy expresses jealousy over the “luck” of his assignment, and Joel hates the feeling of the same jealousy curling in his gut.

He hates it when you’re not waiting for him in the mornings. Hates it when your smile isn’t for him, when he’s not listening to your voice express every emotion imaginable in whatever story you’re telling him.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s feeling, doesn’t know that he’s lonely until he’s waiting for Tommy one morning when his brother kisses Maria goodbye before going on patrol.

It only hits him then, with the warm, open affection Tommy gazes at his wife with before leaving, and how she watches him with fondness as he goes. Only then does he feel the hollow ache in his chest, a gaping hole that’s only caved in deeper when your presence came and went.

He’s still thinking about it that night when sleep won’t come to him. Rubbing together his lips, chapped from the cold winter air from being outside all day, he wonders when the last time he’d had another mouth pressed to it.

Jesus, when’s the last time he kissed someone?

It’s a stupid thing to think, an embarrassing thought that has him turning onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow. His arms outstretched beneath it, he groans into the fabric, trying to shove away the emptiness even as it continues to ache.

It fucking aches, and it shouldn’t. He was too old, had gone through too damn much to even care about kissing anybody.

So he tells himself he doesn’t. Convinces himself he couldn’t give less of a fuck about not being able to remember the last time he’d kissed somebody. Pretends he doesn't care about holding another person in his arms, lips pressed together just for the sake of it.

Joel likes to think he does a pretty good job of not caring about it, up until the next time he sees you.

You’re standing at the table of food and drink before patrol, eyes scanning over the pastries available with an intense look of deliberation for what you were craving that morning. When you find what you want, your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them in anticipation of your treat, and Joel’s blood runs hot in a way he thought himself no longer capable of.

He watches with rapt attention as you bring the scone to your mouth for a bite, how crumbs of it flake off onto your lips while you nod in satisfaction at the taste.

It’s a taste Joel wants to capture for himself. He wants to find the sweetness of the pastry on your lips, to press his mouth to yours and have you fill that emptiness, to have you soothe that ache in him with the exploration and discovery of you.

“Joel Miller!”

He blinks, hazy vision refocusing on the tantalizing soft look of your lips to see them curved up into a smile, and his eyes flicker up to see you looking right at him as you call to him, speaking his name like he’s still some legend you can’t believe exists until you see him again.

Yet again, he’s caught right in the center of your web—so many times now, that he almost starts to wonder if he willingly walks into it. Merciless to whatever you intend to do with him now that you have him right there, right where you want him.

But you just smile, head tilted with your gazes locked together, and suddenly he doesn’t care if you trap him or if he’s giving himself to you. You have him, and that’s enough.

Then, your lips part, tongue catching those crumbs still stuck to the corner of your upper lip, and Joel’s own lips part, breath hitching through them.

You notice.

You have to notice, because the edge of your smile curls up even more, eyes striking with the joy of a newfound discovery about the stoic man you’d found steadfast by your side for months of patrol, a silent presence now outright ogling you the same way everybody else did.

Everywhere you went, you were sure to find people lazing about in the warm rays of sunlight you cast from your very soul.

Joel wondered if you ever got tired with how much you gave. 

How much everyone took.

And now here he was, taking just the same. Your stunning vision reduced to an idle daydream, one you’d caught him in the very first moment he’d had it. 

Joel thought about what he must look like to you then. Just a lonely old man, longing for a touch. Like a mangy stray turning up at your doorstep, desperate just for the offhand chance of an ounce of kindness you had made the grave mistake of showing him before.

Because now he would always be back, aching for more.

Pathetic.

He turns from you at the sharp voice of self-hatred in his mind, walking away at the same moment you take a step forward. Joel brushes past those other souls just as eager, just as desperate for your attention as he tries to get far away from what you make him feel.

But it stays knotted up in his chest, ever more evident in your absence, the memory of your smile like a pain throbbing in his bones, ringing in his mind when he brushes off Tommy’s concern with a gruff “doesn’t matter” before heading out.

Because it doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter.

But it does.

Jackson had not only brought safety and comfort, but the luxury of wanting.

And, dear Lord, he wanted.

He hasn’t stopped wanting, not since that first morning when he really noticed the curve of your lips, the shape of them taunting and tempting him. 

Now he notices them every time he sees you. The slight quiver of them in a brush of cold winter wind, and how you pull a tube of homemade chapstick out of the pocket of your jacket to run over them. How you rub your lips together to spread it along each gorgeous line and indentation before popping them out with a smack, and Joel nearly fucking moans at the sight the first time.

God, he wants so badly.

He needs, he thinks sometimes, on the coldest, darkest nights. Thoughts of your mouth and what it would be capable of plaguing his mind as he breathes hotly into his pillow and tries to stay still, tries not to rut into the mattress just from the thoughts of what a simple kiss from you would feel like, giving and taking until it was impossible to tell where he ended and you began.

Because it was you.

It was always you.

Some days, it’s all Joel can think about. Your eyes, your hands, your laughter, but most of all, every bend and curve of your lips. 

It’s embarrassing how much just the mere thought of you consumes him. 

And it’s frightening, the power you would have over him if daydreams ever became reality.

What makes it even worse, is that he thinks you know. Joel’s almost sure of it, the way your eyes linger on him whenever you pout or purse your lips together at something especially grumpy that he says.

It’s like you’re doing it on purpose now, and he falls for it anyway, gazing at the fullness of your mouth, the most beautiful color he’s ever seen, with an aching want that he pretends never happened when it turns up into a smile.

Time and time again, you catch him wanting.

And you let him.

You never make a move to stop him, to call him out on it. Instead, you feed the fire, with a kindness in your smile and a mischief in your eyes that Joel is fucking addicted to.

If all you’re doing is stringing him along, he’s more than willing to let you do it, if it only means that the joy that lights up your face whenever you see him never dies out.

He sees it again one afternoon when he runs into you on the street, a bundle of produce from the greenhouses tucked underneath one arm that he almost offers to carry for you by some forgotten reflex, manners he used to have, when you distract him with a question of, “Are you going to that dinner for the patrolmen Maria is putting on?”

“Uh.��� Joel winces at how he always finds himself hedging around you. He doesn’t think the things he’s said in your presence is enough to fill a page, even though you’ve plagued his thoughts enough that he could write a whole fucking book on you. 

There’s already a little smirk on your face as he hesitates, and he clears his throat, shifting on his feet with startling uncertainty you always drag from him as he finally responds gruffly, “Yeah, I s’pose so.”

“Great!” you chirp, your free hand patting him on the chest as you move to brush past him, fingers idling on the buttons of his flannel, gliding down along them in a way that sets all his nerve endings alight. “Save me a seat, would you?”

His body turns with the motion of you stepping past him to watch you go, breath caught in his throat as he wonders if you’re joking or not.

Regardless, he saves you a seat when that night comes.

It’s not like anybody wants to sit with him anyway. Most of the others seem to avoid him like the plague. Even years into being in the town, and Joel still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb.

He doesn’t blame them. Even with his rough exterior growing softer than it had been in decades, he was a shit conversation partner. Joel just didn’t know how to do the things that they did anymore, not amongst strangers. He was happy enough with his own people, and he wishes that he was back home, playing guitar or watching movies with Ellie instead of sitting here alone, reminded constantly of everything he was lacking in.

When he’s asked if the seat next to him is taken so somebody can sit with their friend, Joel hesitates, resisting the urge to just get up and leave altogether when a familiar voice rings out, “It is!”

His head turns, and there you are, face aglow with a warm smile when you round the table towards him, and Joel is already halfway up out of his seat before he even realizes what he’s doing.

Your smile turns to him, eyes brightening with a spark at his quick movement that makes his heart pound in his chest, before you’re taking the back of the chair from the other patrolman’s grasp with a sweet, “Thanks, Astrid.”

When you start to pull the chair back further to sit, Joel takes it from you to do it for you, and it’s the first time he sees genuine surprise flash through your eyes. Still, you smile, and there’s a quiver of excitement to your lips that turns his aching into a yearning the longer he looks at them.

It’s also then when he notices that they’re painted, a shade of lipstick that fills them out further, complimenting your beauty with the way you had dressed so finely for the occasion tonight.

To sit next to him?

The question of futile hope echoes in his mind as you sink into the chair with a grin you’re trying to hide, and his hands are shaking as he pushes the chair in and takes his seat next to you again, something he also tries to hide as he folds them together and tucks them under the table.

When a bottle of wine is offered around, Joel can’t hold in a quiet chuckle at the way you jump in excitement for a glass. It's tilted in your fingers, the liquid swirling gently around the glass before you take a sip, and he’s enraptured by the sight of your lips wrapping around the rim, unable to glance away from the mark you leave on it once you set it back onto the table.

He’s fixated on that lipstick stain, can’t fucking look away from the shape of your lips painted onto the glass, and Joel starts to vividly imagine you leaving that mark on him instead. He wants evidence of your kiss all along his skin, down the collar of his shirt, smeared across his own lips as he takes your mouth in his, again and again.

He wants those marks trailing down, down, wants those painted lips teasing him until it smears all across that pretty face, wants them wrapped around his—

“Joel.”

His head snaps up, catching the gaze of his brother across from him. Tommy’s brow arches in question as he asks, “You good?”

“Yeah.” Joel clears his throat when his voice comes out thick, shifting in his seat while his folded hands move into his lap, shifting the napkin to help his new…issue. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Really?” Tommy asks, his gaze one of suspicion, and maybe a bit of amusement as he drawls, “‘Cause I asked you if you wanted a glass of wine about three times, and you didn’t respond.”

Joel pales at being caught, jaw ticking with annoyance at the glee in his brother’s eyes when they snap to you sitting beside him, and he reasserts roughly, “I’m fine.”

Tommy backs off then, turning his attention somewhere else, and Joel almost relaxes until you hold your glass out to him and offer with a smile, “Want to try some of mine?”

The look in your eyes when the blood rushes back into Joel’s cheeks is nothing but goddamn trouble, and he fucking loves it.

You watch him as he stares at the mark of your lips on the glass. He imagines what it would be like to wrap his own lips around it, wondering if he’d taste you with the wine, and he quickly clears the lump that tightens in his throat before mumbling, “No, thank you, ma’am.”

A grin plays on your lips at that, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more in his life than to kiss you at that moment. He wants to grab your face and pull you into him so fucking bad, wants your mouth to claim him, bruise him, make him hurt until he heals.

Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, still folded in his lap in a vice grip over his napkin now when you tease, “Ma’am, huh? I think I like that one.”

You wink, and all the blood flooding into his face suddenly rushes south.

Without a doubt, you had him completely fucked.

You talk to Joel the entire night.

Your head is turned to him throughout dinner, and you ask him more questions than ever before. Unlike your patrols, where you were content to tell stories, and he content to listen, you gently prod him to tell you his own. 

Joel’s voice is quiet when he assents, the low, gentle timbre hardly audible over the din of conversation around the long table. He’s sure he must be boring, a drab collection of colors long washed out in comparison to your blinding vibrancy, but you may as well have been the only two in the room with the way you listen to him.

You’re leaning in with your chin resting on a closed fist, nodding along to what he says with eyes dancing over his face so intently, as if to memorize him the same way he did you.

He’s surprised that he wants you to.

At the end of the dinner, when everybody’s bellies are full and they’re filtering out the door, Joel isn’t even shocked that he’s unwilling to leave your side. Though he is startled when the question slips quietly past his lips, “Mind if I walk you home, darlin’?”

You look back from where you were grabbing your jacket with wide eyes, stunned at the unexpected question and the pet name that had escaped him without a second thought. For a moment, he’s worried he finally scared you away, but then you smile.

“I’d like that.”

Joel nods, trying to calm the racing of his heart as he gently tugs the jacket from your grip and helps you put it on. He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through you when his fingers brush against your skin, and suddenly there’s a feeling of anticipation simmering low in his belly, a warmth that spreads through his chest when the two of you stroll under the streetlights and eventually reach your doorstep.

You don’t let him turn away.

Somehow, he ends up on your couch. His boots and coat are left by your front door as he sits next to you, a glass of wine finally in his hand to ease the strain of his nerves. Your legs are tucked comfortably underneath yourself, the side of your face resting on the back of the couch, gazing up at him as you talk about nothing in particular.

You never seem to run out of questions for him. He answers the ones he can, and you’re not offended when he avoids the others. 

Tonight, Joel asks you questions too. Things he once thought didn’t matter anymore, but right now, he wants to know them all—where you grew up, your favorite movie, the concerts you’d been to before the world went to hell.

It becomes a back and forth—you ask him a question, he answers. Then it’s his turn to ask a question, and you answer.

Hours go by, wine is refilled, and when it’s your turn again, you ask him with such startling gentleness, “How long has it been since you kissed someone?”

Joel freezes.

His breath catches in his throat, and he can’t bring himself to look at you. He knows that when he does, he’ll see for sure that you’ve been aware of his pining, his fantasies, all along, and he doesn’t think he can face that.

Instead, he takes another long sip of wine, swallowing down the liquid courage before he answers lowly, “It’s, uh...been a while.”

Silence falls between you then, with more weight to it than any before in that night, and he has to fill it. So he does with the first thing that springs to his mind, “What about you?”

You hum thoughtfully, even as his heart lurches in his chest when the question spills from his lips. He can’t believe he actually fucking asked that, and then you actually answer it, “A couple months ago.”

Joel’s head snaps up, eyes glancing over your face as you trace the rim of your glass with a thoughtful expression.

“Was it…” he hesitates, before deciding he may as well say whatever he wants now that he’s already gone ahead and fucked it all up by asking about it in the first place, “good?”

“Nah,” you sigh, shrugging casually as you smirk in amusement at the recollection, “it’s like he was eating my face.”

Joel snorts at that, brow arching as he retorts dryly, “You go on a date with a Clicker or somethin’?”

You laugh then, head tilting back with the joyful sound, and he realizes it’s something he wants to hear for the rest of his life, even as you playfully nudge his shoulder and mutter, “Shut up.”

He chuckles along with you, looking back down into his glass as a sigh falls from his lips, and he mumbles more to himself than you, “Not sure I’d be much better, at this point.”

Suddenly, you shift beside him, pulling his attention back to you as you sit up straight. There’s a spark of interest kindling in your eyes, one that makes his throat go dry as your eyes slowly scan over his face, down to his lips.

They part under your attention, and your pupils dilate in the darkness of the room, pulling a soft exhale from Joel’s mouth at the sight of you wanting.

You.

Wanting.

“I don’t know about that,” you murmur as you set your glass down on your coffee table, then do the same with his, tugging it easily from his grasp before leaning in towards him. “But we could find out.”

Joel licks his lips, and you’re on your hands and knees now, crawling towards him on the couch as his eyelids flutter and he rasps out, “I—darlin’, I don’t think I—”

“You don’t want to?” you whisper, stopping instantly at the idea of going too far, and horror rushes through him at the thought of you believing he didn’t want you.

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He exhales heavily into his palm, trying to find the words before he removes it to admit, “I just…don’t think it’d be that enjoyable for ya.”

You scoff, leaning forward to settle on your knees right beside him, fingertips finding the edge of his jawline. They run across it, and Joel’s eyes fall shut, sighing from the sensation of being touched after so long, of it being your hands on his face when you cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones so softly. 

You stroke his skin like you were holding something delicate, and not a living, breathing instrument of death with the scars to prove it right under your palms.

What did you see in him?

“Joel,” you breathe, and a whimper gets caught in his throat, his eyes blinking back open, struggling to refocus on you under the heavy heat of the moment. “Do you want to?”

He doesn’t have to think twice, doesn’t even want to as his voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, a desperate beg of, “Yes.”

Your lips are on his then, and his hand finds the small of your back, tugging you into him as he groans into the mouth he’s been dreaming of, day and night, for months on end.

Joel tries to be gentle with it, but it feels so fucking good, and God, now his hands are shaking. He has to grip onto your waist tightly to anchor himself to the moment, to remind himself that you’re there. This isn’t one of his vivid daydreams, or images that taunt him in his sleep that he’ll wake up painfully hard from.

No, you’re here, lips pliable and just as wanting as his when his tongue tentatively traces the shape of them, knowing the curve of your mouth from long stolen glimpses even with his eyes closed, even through just the touch of his lips to them alone. 

Your mouth opens eagerly, and he licks into it, moans deeply into the sweet taste of you. His hand slides up your back to cup your neck, fingers tangling into the back of your hair as he tugs you forward by the waist until you’re settled in his lap, so he can wrap you up and pull you into him completely.

When your lips leave his, he tries to chase them with a whine stuck in the back of his throat, and he can feel that pretty smile pressed to his skin when you kiss along his bearded jaw and down the strength of his neck as it strains under your attention. 

Joel’s head falls back, sinking into the couch with the feeling of your lips descending, until there’s a sweet bite of pain that pulls his lips apart. It tugs a throaty grunt straight from the pit of heat building in his lower stomach, his hips bucking up hard into your own.

His hands are clutching your waist, the sweet syllables of your name pouring from his mouth like a prayer. The sound of his desperation, his need for you vibrates against your lips as you suck a mark on his neck, your tongue flattening against it and pulling another weak bucking up of his hips.

Your head lifts, gazing down at him with lidded eyes and a giddy smile at this mountain of a man you’d pulled apart and wrapped around your finger so easily, before you tap that very finger against the same spot on your own neck.

Joel’s jaw drops.

“I—sweetheart, I—”

He can’t find the words, can’t explain how he’s afraid he’s far too rough to do such a thing. It’s been too long, he’s out of practice, and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

You just smile down at what he leaves unspoken, some look in your eyes that makes him tremble as you brush your hands through his hair and whisper, “You’re capable of much more softness than you realize, Joel Miller.”

A warmth eases his concern at your words, and he lets you guide his face to your neck, his lips finding your skin for a tentative kiss there. You’re putting yourself in his hands now, trusting him not to break you, just as he trusts you to lead him through this forgotten territory until it was familiar to him again.

Joel breathes you in, large hands grasping at your back as he pulls your body firmly against his, tongue darting out to taste your skin before he bites down softly.

There’s a moan that floats from your lips then, the most sweet, seductive music to his ears that’ll replay in his mind for nights to come, and Joel sucks at the skin, eager to leave his mark on you as you did him. He’s grasping desperately at your body now as you grind down into his lap, unwilling to ever let you go now that he has you.

Heavy breaths fill the air as you bring his face back up to yours, and you just kiss. Lips swelling from the attention, and Joel never wants to stop, even though he knows he’ll have to eventually.

When he does, the two of you finally needing to actually catch your breath, your forehead rests against his with a quiet sigh. It sounds dangerously like contentment, and it takes a moment before Joel realizes that such a thing isn’t so dangerous anymore.

Your nose bumps against his, and he whispers hoarsely, “How was that?”

You laugh, sounding just as breathless and raspy as him, and he can’t stop the goofy smile that stretches across his face when you hum, “Mm, I’ll need more evidence before I draw any conclusions.”

Joel’s lips meet yours again, a softer kiss shared this time, leaving the promise of more that he’d never thought he’d be able to make before he pulls back, and your smile returning his own tells him all he’s ever needed to know.

“That can be arranged.”

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XVl / finale)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 13.3k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, explicit sexual content unprotected sex, breast play, fingering (vaginal), VERY mild d/s, consensual punishment (spanking), consensual voyeurism (jimin watches like the freak that he is). — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — a/n: please read the author's note at the end of the chapter!

Previous - Masterlist

It takes six months before you finally hear the words you've been waiting so desperately for.

"Sunshine, we've been talking and we think it's time we relocate to somewhere else." 

Your fork clatters to the table, clicking loudly against your plate. You wonder for a moment if you're dreaming – if your brain has started to hallucinate scenarios to make up for how suffocated you feel in this cabin – but Jimin's hand squeezing your knee is too real to be made up.

"What?" You breathe, shocked. 

"We can't stay here for much longer, baby, the station uses the cabin sporadically throughout the summer months," Jimin says. He takes a bite of his food, shrugging as he admits, "Our stay here so far hasn't exactly been legal. I'd rather not get us all in trouble for using the place unauthorized." 

"We know how cooped up you've been here," Seokjin adds, giving you a sad smile, "We never planned on staying here this long but we had to figure some things out first. We wanted to find a place that was perfect for us, somewhere that could be our home, so we couldn't rush it." 

You drop your hands into your lap, clutching them together tightly. You hope it's enough to hide how badly they're trembling, blood pumping loudly in your ears as it dawns on you that this is your ticket out. You might not be able to escape, not in the way you attempted so many months ago at least, but it's a start. The boys wouldn't make this decision if they didn't trust you, if they didn't feel confident enough in your connection that you won't try to run away from them. 

And you won't. 

You've come to terms with your situation; that your soulmates need you to get better. 

Though you haven't had much of a choice, you have decided that you're going to stay until the bond settles, just until they stop being so obsessive and paranoid. Maybe then you'll be able to go back to the life you had before and do everything right with them this time.

The you from six months ago would've been disgusted that you're even entertaining the thought of giving them a second chance, but you know better now. Your soulmates are sick. Perhaps with time, and a lot of therapy, they will be able to understand what they've been putting you through and try to make amends for it. 

You know that the healthy thing to do would be to run away without a backward glance but you can't. Try as you might to hate it, your soul – your heart – has long since accepted them. You can't quite call it love, not with the circumstances of how those feelings came to be, but you do like them. 

"It's some hours away but it's a quaint home, just big enough for the eight of us. It's on the outskirts of– the city! So it has a big garden and a lot of picturesque trails around it," Seokjin's voice cracks as he almost lets the town name slip, Namjoon elbowing his side with a low hiss. 

"It's perfect for taking Yeontan on walks!" Taehyung pipes up with a grin, sneaking the whining pup at his feet a piece of sausage. 

You're not surprised that the boys aren't willing to share any information about the new house and place you'll be moving to. They may not be as paranoid as they were at the beginning but that still doesn't mean that they have full faith in you just yet. But you expected that. You just need to play your cards right – stay at the house until they let their guards down and then, maybe, you'll be able to slowly lay down the foundation you need to convince them to let you go back to your home. 

"That sounds lovely," You smile, glossing over Seokjin's blunder. 

Needing to act as normal as possible, you once again pick up your fork and try to resume eating your dinner. The piece of chicken you shove into your mouth doesn't taste like anything, your nerves making everything bland and tough to chew. But you push through, moving around some rice on your plate as you nonchalantly say, "But what about your jobs? Jungkook's degree? I would hate for our move to affect you like that." 

"You don't have to worry about that," Jimin squeezes your knee, "I'll be commuting with Seokjin hyung and Hoseok hyung. Namjoon hyung has been hired at the library in the city we're moving to and Jungkookie is going to finish the rest of the semester online." 

"Taehyungie and I can work a lot from home, so we're planning on doing that. We might have to go into the office now and then, but that's no problem," Yoongi supplies. He gives you a fond look as he says, "We're hoping it'll make the transition into the new house easier for you since some of us will always be home to spend time with you." 

And it'll be easier to make sure you don't do anything stupid. 

"Ah, I see, that's nice," You say. "Thank you for thinking of me." 

"Always," Namjoon grins sweetly, his dimples indenting his cheeks. 

It might not be a lot to go off, but the fact that the majority of them are planning on commuting every day must mean that the new city can be too far away from your old one, even if you don't know exactly where it is yet. An hour, maybe a little more, if they're being extra careful. You can work with that.

Hoseok catches your gaze from across the table, his expression earnest as he says, "We want you to be able to have a normal life, Y/n. With us."

"I know our methods have been a bit..." He trails off with a small grimace, no doubt thinking about what transpired in his shop and everything that followed. You can't exactly say that Hoseok looks remorseful, none of them do, but there is a touch of shame in their faces that hasn't been present before.

"I won't apologize for what happened because that's what led us here and gave us the chance to grow closer like we were supposed to all along. But, we want to do better by you and we're going to do our best to make sure that happens." 

The others voice out their agreement, nodding along to Hoseok's words. 

You shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth to dampen your sigh.

You're not even sure why you feel disappointed by the fact that the boys refuse to apologize for what they did to you, you already know they don't feel bad about it. Still, perhaps the part of you that likes them was hoping for it nonetheless. Maybe it would be easier for you to accept everything that has happened if they did – if they admitted that they had hurt you and wanted to repent for it. But, you're probably going to have to wait a very long time before that day ever comes – if, it ever comes.

Swallowing your food, you try to shake off any useless thoughts. You need to focus on the future, on the fact that you'll be regaining a sliver of freedom soon. 

You move one hand under the table, covering Jimin's hand with yours. 

Squeezing it, you hope you don't sound too eager as you ask, "So, when do we leave?" 

Two weeks. 

You figured the move would happen soon, but not that quickly. The boys must have planned this for a long time, far longer than they let on, because there's no way they could have closed on a house this fast. 

The day after they told you of their plans, Namjoon had already begun moving some of his books out of the cabin. Truthfully there wasn't much any of you needed to pack up, only a few random personal belongings and decor elements that had been placed here and there to make your stay a little more cozy. In the end, it all fit into three boxes placed neatly by the door.

A few days before the move, the boys spent an hour rearranging the furniture back to how it was when you had first arrived, erasing any trace of the last six months with it. It was as if no one had ever been there in the first place, as if it hadn't served as a prison for half a year.

When you first arrived you wondered if you would ever be able to leave, and now, you're about to do just that. 

"Y/n."

You turn around as Yoongi calls your name, watching as he steps closer with a piece of fabric between his hands. Yoongi unfolds it under your gaze, revealing it to be a black opaque scarf. 

"We're all ready to go, love, but you have to cover your eyes with this," Yoongi frowns apologetically. "We want to trust you, but for everyone's peace of mind, this is the best thing to do. It's just until we arrive at the house." 

You eye the scarf for a moment, flashing Yoongi a weak smile as you say, "It's okay, I understand." 

He steps closer, bringing the fabric up to your face. The material is soft, and cool, as it covers your eyes, blocking out any semblance of light. The scarf is wide enough that it covers everything from your eyebrows to the tip of your nose, removing any chance you might have had to tilt your head to peek at the outside world. You should've figured they would've been prepared for that possibility. 

Yoongi's hands are careful as he ties the scarf behind your head, making sure he doesn't tangle or tug at your hair in the process. You can feel his breath against your cheek as he binds it securely, double knotting it to make sure it's not going to come undone. 

"All done," Yoongi announces softly, curving one hand along the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against yours. Your eyes fall shut despite the darkness already hindering your vision, leaning forward to catch his lips in a proper kiss. 

Yoongi indulges you for a few seconds before he steps back, removing his hands. 

"Come back," You pout, your fingers searching blindly for his coat. 

"We're going to be late, love, the others are waiting for us," You can hear the smile in Yoongi's voice as he grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

As if summoned, the cabin door flies open, Jungkook's voice echoing slightly in the near-empty cabin as he asks, "Are you coming, hyung? Y/n? We're all ready to go." 

You let Yoongi lead you forward, your steps a little unsteady despite his promise that nothing is in your way. Jungkook grabs your other hand as you near the door, chattering excitedly about how he brought some of your favourite snacks for the trip as they both help you down the stairs. 

Your heart jumps, picking up speed, as you hear the steady thrum of a car motor running. You can't believe this is actually real – you're truly leaving this place for good. You know that Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon have already left, the boys eager to get everything in order at the new house before your arrival. 

You're maneuvered into the car without too much trouble, Hoseok clicking your seatbelt into place as you're placed between him and Jungkook in the backseat. You find a bag of sweets dumped into your lap the moment you're situated, Hoseok chiding Jungkook lightly for startling you. Yoongi has taken his place in the front seat, groaning loudly as Seokjin declares that as the driver; he's going to be responsible for the music and that no one is allowed to complain about his choices. 

You lean back in your seat, getting yourself comfortable between Jungkook and Hoseok. Their bodies being flushed with yours in the cramped car feels grounding, the feel of their strong thighs pressed against yours being something you can easily divert your focus to with your sight momentarily blocked. Seokjin and Yoongi bicker as the car begins to pull away from the cabin, the gravel road crunching loudly under the wheels. 

Finally.

Knowing there's no chance of you catching a glimpse of the surroundings on the way there, not with the blindfold so securely wrapped around your head, you slump to the side, resting your head on Hoseok's shoulder. Slender fingers wrap around yours as Hoseok takes your hand into his lap, his thumb moving soothingly across your knuckles. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to zone out and daydream about all of the possibilities ahead of you. It's not like the boys are going to magically become more trusting the moment you arrive at the new house but the move will open new doors for you – give you more opportunities to show them that they can lower their guards and trust the bond without any consequences.

They don't have to worry about you running away anymore.

The boys seem content to let you rest on the drive over to the new house, filling the silence between songs with jokes and lighthearted bickering. You easily accept the pieces of candy that are pressed to your lips at steady intervals, smiling at Jungkook and Hoseok's pleased words whenever you accept their offers. Before you know it, the car begins to slow down and you hear Seokjin exclaim, "Ah, there it is!" 

The door on Hoseok's side is opened the moment the car stops, Taehyung whining loudly about how long it took you to get there. You follow their lead out of the car and inside the new house, placing one foot blindly in front of the other. 

"We'll show you the outside later, babe," Taehyung promises as he steers you forward with both hands securely placed on your shoulders, "We just want to see your reaction to the inside of the house first." 

Namjoon helps you slip off your shoes as you step into the house, the smell of a freshly cleaned floor hitting your nose. Taehyung urges you to walk forward a bit more before he stops you, his hands moving from your shoulders to untie the knots behind your head. 

"We hope you'll like your new home, darling," Namjoon says, revealing a hint of nervousness in his tone. 

You're practically bursting with anticipation as Taehyung undos the first knot, the wooden floorboards under your feet giving you the impression that this is likely an older, more traditional, house. You blink as the blindfold finally falls away, the sudden burst of light stinging your eyes.

Your lips part in surprise as your vision adjusts, taking in the space in front of you. 

You're standing in the middle of a large entryway, the area opening up into a big combined living and dining room. One wall is practically filled with windows, letting lots of beautiful sunlight stream in and warm up the space. You notice a massive couch on one side of the room, the size of it definitely big enough to comfortably seat eight people at once. It's facing the built-in fireplace in the wall in front of it, a big TV hung above it. The dining room portion has a lovely intricate hardwood table with eight matching chairs pushed up against it.

You notice that one of the smaller walls has a bookcase spanning the entire width of it, already half-full with what you can only assume to be Namjoon's books. You do recognize little trinkets here and there that the boys kept at the cabin, and even a few larger plants you eyed when you visited Seokjin's shop way back then. 

"I love it," You gasp, stunned at how well they've designed the living room. 

It does feel cozy – home-y, even. 

"I told you the couch was the right choice!" Taehyung walks into the room, grinning smugly at Jimin. 

Jimin rolls his eyes, "It would've looked too out of place if it wasn't for the rug that I found to go along with it." 

"There they go again," Hoseok sighs behind your back. He nudges your shoulder gently, voice low as he says, "They're going to keep doing that for a while. Why don't we go look at the kitchen in the meantime?" 

"Please," You nod, excited to see if the rest of the house looks as good as the living room. You follow Hoseok's lead back to the entry and through the open door on the left, the rest of the boys trailing behind you. 

"The kitchen needed an upgrade so we let Seokjin hyung and Yoongi hyung design it since they do the majority of the cooking," Hoseok scratches his neck, a little sheepish as he pauses next to the large island in the room.

The kitchen is sleek and modern, definitely newer than what you've seen of the house so far, but not out of place by any means. It just feels inviting and bright, like a breath of fresh air. Maybe cooking won't be so bad if you can do it in a kitchen like this. 

"It looks great," You comment, walking around the island to marvel at some of the fancier appliances that are out on display on the counters.

"Thank you, angel," Seokjin preens. He shares a pleased look with Yoongi over your compliment, the younger man's cheeks flushed from the praise.

You catch sight of the pretty, colourful garden outside as you walk past the sink. Looking outside the window above it, you find that spring is already in full bloom here. While you had noticed a few more wildflowers around the cabin a few days before you left, it's nothing compared to the abundance of flowers and shrubs that are blossoming here. 

The view makes you smile. You know your stay here isn't permanent but it does make your heart flutter to know that you're going to be spending your foreseeable future here – in a lovely house with a pretty garden – and not an old cabin in a dark forest. The boys did well by picking this house, it's the type of place you actually would like to live in. 

"Y/n, let's go have a look at the downstairs bathroom and study before we move upstairs," Seokjin says, gesturing to the hallway.

You can still hear Taehyung and Jimin's heated discussion as you cross over the entry to look at the rooms on the opposite side of the house, the french double doors leading to the study winning you over immediately. Both rooms look like they've gotten a recent refresh, the new paint and tiles the boys picked out for the bathroom nicely complementing the old features of the home. The house is the perfect blend of rustic and modern.

Jungkook grabs your hand as you turn to follow Yoongi up to the second floor, excitedly dragging you up the stairs ahead of the others. He quickly explains that the second-floor houses all three bedrooms and an additional two ensuite bathrooms. Jungkook eagerly tells you about the choices they made for the bedrooms, from the color of the wall to the bedside tables to even the small light near the window that projects stars on the ceiling when it's dark out. 

Yoongi takes special care to point out the wainscoting he put up in the second bedroom and he flashes you a gummy smile as you praise him for the work he's done. You drag your fingers over the soft duvet on the seemingly king-sized bed in the room, a lightbulb going off in your head as you remember that there are only three bedrooms. 

"Wait, if there's only three beds, what are the sleeping arrangements going to be like?" 

Hoseok speaks up from where he's leaning against the wall, "We're all going to share, sunshine. Some of us will have to stay overnight in the city due to our jobs every so often so that should clear up some space, but aside from that, we'll be sharing beds." 

The surprise must be evident on your face, because Namjoon grimaces and quickly supplies, "We know we've been neglecting each other as soulmates. We don't feel the bond in the same way as we do with you but we are connected regardless. This... well, this is our attempt at strengthening that connection. We're trying to accept that the bond goes eight ways – not just one." 

You find yourself speechless at what you've just heard. You knew that the bond was slowly mellowing them out but you never thought that it would start affecting the connection between them as well. If that part of the soulbond starts to heal then... You might be able to get back to your normal life sooner than you first dared to hope for. 

"We still have one more room to look at, love," Yoongi touches your hip, nudging you towards the door. None of the boys seem to expect a response to what Namjoon just told you, understanding that the news has left you a little dumbfounded. 

Taehyung and Jimin must have resolved their bickering during your tour, the two of them waiting by the door to the final room, giggling at something on Taehyung's phone. The hot and cold behaviour the boys have towards each other does give you a whiplash most days but you suppose that too might become less frequent as the bond between them finally gets the nurture it's been needing for years. 

"We didn't want to complete this house without you," Yoongi explains as he pushes open the door. The last bedroom is noticeably less finished than the rest of the house, the walls a tired white and the furniture non-existent aside from another king bed. "This is your home just as much as it's ours, so we'd really like it if you want to help us design the final bedroom." 

"I'd love that," You grin, eager for a project you can occupy some of your time with. 

"We'll be collecting your things soon, babe," Jimin adds, "Your lease is up on your apartment and you don't need it anymore, so we'll take turns packing up everything and bringing it over next weekend." 

You stare at the blank wall, heart sinking in your chest. Somehow, you had forgotten about your lease. A burst of anger you haven't felt in a while bubbles up under your skin, the urge to scream and curse at them taking over your body. But what good will it do? 

In their eyes, this is your new home. The need for your apartment is now obsolete. 

You breathe slowly through your nose, quelling the flames before they can burn too hot. You may lose your apartment, your home, for now, but that doesn't mean you can't make a new home somewhere else later. You'll be fine. You're sure Heejun and Jaemin will gladly let you crash on their couch until you figure something out. For now, you just have to accept the situation for what it is and play along. 

You have missed your things, so it'll be nice to be able to make this house your own for however long you'll need it. 

"Great, thank you," You grit. 

For once, Jimin seems oblivious to your snark. He throws an arm around your shoulders, bumping his forehead against yours as he grins and says, "C'mon babe, let's go have a look at the garden. I think you're going to love it." 

You throw a glance towards the window, plastering on a convincing smile as you say, "I'd like nothing more, Jiminie." 

Time passes quickly in the new house once you begin to settle in.

The unfinished bedroom gets decorated to your liking, the walls repainted and the newly hung shelves display most of the little knick-knacks from your old apartment. As spring begins to bleed into summer, you take on the task of getting the already stunning garden ready for the warmer weather. You often find yourself outside with Jungkook or Yoongi, weeding around the plants or mowing the grass to make sure Yeontan has a nice, safe space to run around in. The pup loves to dig up anything that has been freshly planted, so someone must always watch him like a hawk whenever the soil has been recently turned. You've already lost a bed of beautiful purple hyacinths once and you don't want to make that mistake again (even if the picture of Yeontan napping in a pile of flowers was a little cute). 

Truly, it's all too easy to fall into a new routine and it doesn't take long before you know the boys' schedules by heart. Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok are away the most since the nature of their jobs doesn't allow them to work from home. Seokjin and Hoseok have hired more helpers to be able to spend the full weekend at home, in addition to a day or two here and there when they work on the administrative side of their businesses. Jimin, however, doesn't have that option. He often spends three days at the time in the city, his shifts too long and tiring for him to be able to make the drive back and forth every day.

You miss him whenever he's away and it's becoming quite obvious that the others do too. Jungkook and Taehyung in particular often mope around the house when Jimin is working his shifts, lamenting about how unfair it is that he has to stay there for days all by himself. Even if you're a little surprised at how quickly the bond has grown between the boys, you do admittedly find it awfully sweet to see them puppy-piling whoever has been gone for a day or more whenever they return to the house. Though, you always grow a little wary when Jimin comes back, as the days apart usually leave him a little more hungry for mischief than usual. 

You can already tell that Jimin is up to something the moment he steps into the house, his eyes sparkling with interest despite his tired complexion. Your suspicion wavers slightly during dinner with Hoseok and Seokjin, as Jimin keeps yawning between bites and resting his head heavily against your arm the moment he's done eating. He stays glued to your back as you all shuffle into the living room after, hugging you tight to his chest as he settles down on the couch. He only hums in agreement when Seokjin proposes a few rounds of Mario Kart, letting out a tired sigh as he hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch them. 

Jimin has one hand tucked under your sweatshirt, petting over the bare skin on your waist while he nuzzles his face against your neck. The gestures are innocent and sleepy, and you find your guard lowering with every round Hoseok and Seokjin play.

You snort as Hoseok gets hit with a blue shell just as he's about to cross the finish line, Seokjin letting out a whop as he races past him. 

"You're such a cheater!" Hoseok huffs, glaring at the teasing dance Seokjin does to celebrate his fifth win in a row. 

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Hobi, but you're just not as good as I am," Seokjin grins. "I never lose once I set my mind to something, you know that." 

"You're too full of yourself, hyung," Hoseok shakes his head as he gives Seokjin's shoulder a light shove. 

"And you're a sore loser," Seokjin quips, laughing as he gets pushed to the ground. He swats Hoseok's hands away as he tries to wrestle with him, his squeaky laughter filling the room as Hoseok grumbles out his protests. 

The hand on your waist suddenly stills just as Seokjin's laughter lulls. The mischief is back in Jimin's voice as it brushes against your neck, his tone taunting as he says, "Maybe it's time you brought Seokjin hyung down a peg, huh, Hoseok hyung?" 

You hold your breath as Hoseok and Seokjin both freeze, their heads slowly turning to face the couch. 

"What are you talking about, Jimin?" Seokjin, never one to entertain Jimin's antics for too long, purses his lips as he stares him down. 

"You do win almost every game we play, hyung, that's true, but you've also played more video games than all of us combined. Maybe if you and Hoseok hyung played a game that was more.. level to your experiences, it would be more fair?" Jimin proposes.

"What kind of game are we talking about here?" Hoseok asks. You can tell his curiosity is winning out over his usual disdain for Jimin's 'games', his eyes tracking Jimin as the younger brings one hand up to your jaw, turning your head to the side. 

You let out a stuttered breath as you meet Jimin's hungry gaze, his glossy lips twisting into a smirk as he looks you dead in the eyes and says, "How about a competition to see who can fuck our baby better?" 

You hear Seokjin sputter on the floor as Hoseok lets out a pained groan.

"Hyung! You almost kneed me in the balls! Are you seriously still trying to cheat?" 

"I'm not– I'm surprised!" Seokjin retorts with a squeak, "I didn't think that little devil would joke around with something like that!"

"I'm not joking though," Jimin hums as he strokes his thumb along your jaw. "Wouldn't it be interesting to see who would win – who Y/n would crown the best?" 

Jimin's gaze leaves yours for a second as it glides down to his hyungs on the floor, the corner of his mouth quirking into a mocking smile as he says, "Or maybe you're just too scared to find out who she prefers? I guess it might be better for you to give up now Hobi hyung, if you're not confident that you can beat Seokjin hyung."

Your lips part in surprise as you realize that Jimin is serious about his proposal, that he's trying to goad them into competing. It's a low blow and an obvious one too, but you don't think Hoseok and Seokjin care – not when Jimin is openly questioning their ability to pleasure you. 

Seeing Hoseok's brows furrow in thought, Jimin returns his attention to you. He leans forward to slot your mouths together, taking advantage of the access you've given him as he pulls you into a deep kiss. His tongue dips past your lips right away, curling around your own as he holds you still. You can't help the moan that tumbles out as Jimin ravages your mouth, the sounds wet and filthy as he kisses you passionately.

You slump into Jimin's arms, letting him take full control of the kiss. It's only when you start to turn lightheaded that you turn your head away, gasping for air as Jimin moves his mouth to your jaw. You glance with hooded eyes down at the floor as you attempt to catch your breath, your stomach doing a flip as you notice how affected Hoseok and Seokjin seem. They're both turned on by the little show Jimin put on for them, their bulges prominent and straining against their pants.

The tension in the room is palpable. Seokjin and Hoseok look like they're teetering on the edge between hesitance and hunger – both wanting what Jimin is proposing, but still holding themselves back from accepting it. 

You know Jimin can sense it by the way he makes you moan as he sucks your skin between his teeth, leaving his mark on your delicate throat. He lets out a low chuckle at the sharp intake of breath he hears from Seokjin. 

"If the two of you aren't going to pleasure Y/n then you better say your goodnights now. I'll make sure to fuck her twice as good as either of you ever could. Hmm.. Do you think she'll even remember your names once I'm done?" He purrs against your neck, kissing his way back up to your lips. 

"What do you think, baby? Should the two of us go upstairs, or do you want to see what the hyungs can do to you?" 

While you don't particularly agree with Jimin's methods, you can't deny the fact that you have been curious about when Seokjin and Hoseok were going to get intimate with you. You've had countless make-out sessions with each of them, heavy petting involved, but it's never gone beyond that. The boys have been giving you some space to settle in properly and get your bearings in the new house but you've reached the point where you're honestly a little desperate to be touched. You want them to fuck you. And for all of Jimin's schemes, even you can agree that this one sounds fun – hot, even. 

"I–" You shudder at the way Jimin presses his thumb against the bruise he left, eyes fluttering closed as you shyly admit, "I wouldn't m-mind, but I don't want to pressure them–" 

"Fuck," Hoseok curses, pushing himself to his feet, "Whatever, I'm in."

He sends a sharp look down at Seokjin, "You better not chicken out." 

"Yeah, hyung," Jimin chimes in, "Are you forfeiting your chance to finally fuck Y/n? Who knows when you'll be able to do it later when she has five other soulmates who already know her body so well."

Seokjin's jaw is clenched so tight it looks like it's going to break, his expression stormy as his eyes jump from person to person. His gaze lingers on you for longer, drinks in how affected you look after just a little kissing, how eager you seem to finally have your final two soulmates at your mercy. Even if he imagined your first time together to be a little more romantic and with a lot less Jimin, Seokjin can't deny that it's exciting to be able to prove himself as the best lover out of the group. 

"I'm not forfeiting anything," Seokjin huffs, standing up to join Hoseok. "I'll win this fair and square. Just don't be too sad when Angel picks me as the best lover, yeah?" 

Hoseok doesn't deign Seokjin with an answer, his sights already set on you. He brushes past his hyung with long strides, scooping you out of Jimin's arms and into his own. Hoseok rounds the coffee table to place you down on the other side, creating some space between you and the others, drawing a line he doesn't want anyone to cross.

You lean back against the table as he squats down in front of you, watching him with wide eyes as he reaches out to trace your bottom lip with one of his fingers. 

"Sunshine, don't you think you're being too much of a tease?"

Hoseok's gaze hardens as you inadvertently swipe your tongue along the line he just traced, your lip tingling from his touch. You feel the back of your neck flush as you realize what you just did, feeling bashful as you drop your gaze down to the floor.

The denial sits on the tip of your tongue, but you can't make yourself utter the words. Jimin is the one who was teasing them, firing them up, but you didn't exactly stop him either, did you? You're not ashamed to admit that you've been wanting Hoseok and Seokjin for a while now, and Jimin has practically served them up on a silver platter for you. 

"I–" You swallow thickly as you glance up and meet Hoseok's dark gaze, "I'm sorry?" 

Hoseok's mouth quirks, "I don't think you are, Y/n." 

Heat pools low in your stomach at Hoseok's astute observation, your thighs clenching helplessly under his sharp gaze.

"You deserve a little punishment for that, sunshine, don't you agree?" He hums.

The last time you were 'punished' was humiliating and not something you had agreed to at all. But this time, you're given the option to deny him, to walk away if you so wish. Despite everything they've done, you know they don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do. 

Truthfully, it does make you a little nervous to give Hoseok full control, but the soulbond will never settle until you show him that you're willing to put your full trust in him. 

"Yes," You weakly agree, embarrassed, knowing that he's looking for a verbal answer.

Hoseok gives a pleased smile at your compliance, his fiery exterior cracking momentarily until he reins himself back in. 

"Good. Get on your hands and knees, Y/n, you're allowed to use the table for support if you need it." 

The flush on the back of your neck spreads up to your face as you do as you're told. You turn around, crawling forward on your hands and knees until you're upper body is resting on the coffee table, the position naturally pushing your bottom out. You suck your lip between your teeth as you look ahead to find Jimin cupping himself above his pants, his smile wicked. Seokjin has made his way onto the same couch, his usually sweet face all stoic and difficult to read as he watches you and Hoseok. His hands are digging into his jeans, resisting the urge to touch himself and follow in Jimin's footsteps. 

You lower your head as Hoseok positions himself behind you, his hands landing on the swell of your ass. He places a hand on each cheek, letting out a low groan as he kneads the flesh. 

"I think ten should do it for your punishment this time, sunshine," Hoseok says, warming up the area by alternating between squeezing and rubbing his palms in circles over your cheeks. 

"Okay," You say, your belly swooping with nervous anticipation. 

"Hoseok," Seokjin hisses, a warning that gets shushed by Jimin.

For a moment, too wrapped up in Hoseok's dominating aura, you had forgotten that they would all feel your punishment. Just like they did back then in the cabin.

Before you can change your mind though, Jimin adds a decisive, "If our baby can handle it, then you can handle it too, hyung." 

Seokjin sighs, clearly not willing to put up the fight. "Fine." 

Both of Hoseok's hands fall away at that, leaving you exposed to receive your punishment. Hoseok's shirt rustles as he raises his hand and it's the only warning you get before his palm lands heavy on your ass, the impact knocking your breath out of your lungs. The next six spanks come in quick succession, each harder than the last. It's only a small mercy that your skin is still covered, the sting still intense despite the slight padding between you and Hoseok's palm. The noises you've been trying so hard to suppress tumble out at the seventh blow, a strangled gasp passing through your lips as he makes contact.

"Good girl," Hoseok praises, pausing his hits to allow you a moment to regain your breath. He tuts as you try to pull away from the fingers stroking over your smarting cheeks. "Don't make me add more, Y/n. Take the rest of your punishment properly and I promise I'll reward you." 

You take a few deep breaths, nodding to let Hoseok know that you'll behave. 

The final three slaps are so forceful you're sure you're going to bruise, your body jolting forward over the table as the smacks rain down on your ass. You cry out at the last one, the sound caught between a moan and a whimper as your heart pounds in your chest. 

"Fuck, that's hot," Jimin curses, palming himself harder. "Stings like a bitch, though," He whines under his breath.

Hoseok goes back to massaging your cheeks, soothing the hurt down to a more manageable level. His fingers drift up to the waistband of your sweats, hooking into the fabric before he pauses and asks, "Are you ready for your reward now, sunshine?" 

"Please," You whimper. 

You lift your knees to help Hoseok pull your sweats and underwear off all in one go, legs shaking as you barely manage to raise yourself enough from the table to remove your shirt after.

"Look at you," Hoseok murmurs, gliding his fingers all over your exposed skin. He follows the curve of your spine, only stopping briefly to thumb across your burning cheeks before he drags his hands down your calves. Your breath hitches as he suddenly spreads your legs.

You're mortified to discover that Hoseok's punishment has made you wet, dripping, without you noticing it, your cunt clenching helplessly under Hoseok's burning gaze. "So pretty." 

You gasp as Hoseok drags a finger through your slit, rubbing and spreading the wetness all over your cunt. He stills near your entrance, teasing you by barely dipping his finger in before he slides it back up to your clit. The slow rubs around your nub cause your thighs to shake, your senses overwhelmed as he repeats the motion over and over. 

"Hoseok, please," You whimper, pushing your hips against his finger as he teasingly tries to dip it in again, the movement swallowing him up to the second knuckle. 

"Are you being impatient, Y/n?"

Hoseok pushes his finger deeper, feeling along your walls before he pulls out to add another one, the slide in easy with how turned on you are. It feels good to finally have something filling you up, your cunt clenching desperately around his digits whenever he goes to pull out. 

"I'll let it slide just this once, sunshine. It seems your cunt is hungry for something more." 

The next thrust of his fingers is harder, slightly curled, and you let out a loud moan as he bumps directly against your sweet spot. Two fingers turn to three, stretching your walls out in preparation for Hoseok's cock. You keep mindlessly moving your hips back, meeting every thrust of his fingers in hopes that you'll take him deeper, feel fuller. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter and tighter, desperate for that final burst of pleasure to tip you over the scale.  

"Wait–" You gasp, throwing a look over your shoulder as Hoseok removes his fingers, your cunt empty and aching with nothing in it. 

"Don't worry," Hoseok presses himself flush with your back, his lips ghosting over your ear as he says, "I'm giving you what you want. Your sweet little pussy just needs a hard cock to fuck it good, hmm?" 

He rolls his hips against yours, the hardness in his jeans unmistakable. You let out a low keen, breathless as you admit, "Yes, yes, I need it." 

"You'll get it, sunshine," Hoseok presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders as he works his pants down his hips, his hard cock springing up against his stomach as he frees it from his boxers. Hoseok groans as he wraps one hand around himself, thumbing at his slit to spread the pre-come with a few quick pumps up and down his length. 

You both let out a moan as Hoseok rubs the head of his cock through your folds, making it even wetter. He positions himself at your opening, one hand gripping your waist as he pushes inside. Your walls open easily, practically sucking in half of his cock in one go. With how relaxed and eager you are, it only takes one firm thrust from Hoseok to bury the rest of him inside of you. 

"Oh gods," You groan, your fingers scrambling over the waxed tabletop for support as you desperately clamp down around his cock. 

"Are you ready, Y/n?" Hoseok places both hands on your waist, holding you still. He draws his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside your cunt, teasing. You feel him twitch as you clench around him, his usually composed voice wavering just the slightest as he says, "I'll give you everything you need, you just have to ask." 

Your pride is already long gone, vanished into thin air at the first touch of Hoseok's skilled fingers. You're not above begging, not if it'll finally sate the arousal licking up the inside of your stomach. 

"Please fuck me, Hobi," You whine. 

The grip on your waist tightens, Hoseok's fingers digging into your flesh as he finally gets to hear the words he's only been dreaming about for so long. His eyes are dark are he stares down at your body, as he memorizes the way your cunt clings to his cock, aching to be filled. Not even the loud groan coming from the couch is enough to tear his gaze away, not when he has such a perfect vision right in front of him. 

"As you wish, my sunshine."

You have no way of preparing yourself for the way Hoseok snaps his hips forward, slamming into your cunt so hard it makes your back arch. Your arms give out under the brutal pace he sets, your hands fruitlessly gliding across the table for something to hold on to as he punches his cock in with every deep thrust. It's only the tight grip Hoseok has on your hips that keeps you from sliding across the surface.

Your head feels like it's filled with static, no thoughts forming beyond more, please, more, as Hoseok moves in and out of you. The harsh noise of Hoseok's skin slapping against yours causes another gush of arousal to wet your cunt, making it sound absolutely sloppy as he delivers another hard thrust, your slick squelching around his cock. 

"Fuck– Fucking hell, Y/n," Hoseok growls, the sound spurring him on as he lowers his thighs to snap his hips even faster, "Are you that desperate for cock, baby?" 

Your next moan is torn from your throat as the new angle causes Hoseok's cock to bump straight into your sweet spot, the unrelenting hammering of his length making you see stars. You can't even close your mouth properly to stop the drool that slides past your lips, your whole body numb with pleasure. 

Hoseok grunts as your walls flutter around him, his gaze flickering from the dazed expression on your face to the couch. He smirks as he sees Jimin with his hand around his cock, the younger's half-lidded eyes watching your fucked out expression intently as he strokes his length. Seokjin has finally caved too, palming himself slowly over his underwear, jeans discharged to the side. 

Hoseok grins as he meets Seokjin's narrowed eyes, his thrusts slowing down in favor of grinding his hips in deep, slow circles. One of his hands slides from your waist to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to pull your head up. It leaves you staring straight at Seokjin and Jimin, moans and whimpers falling freely from your parted mouth as Hoseok pushes you closer and closer to the edge. 

Hoseok pats your side, voice a little mean as he says, "Did you already forget about our competition, Y/n? I need you to look at hyung while I fuck you and let him know that he won't be able to get the same pretty sounds out of you as I am." 

"Can you do that, sunshine?"

You shudder as he tugs on your hair, the faint sting traveling straight down to your cunt. 

"Y-yes," You gasp, getting your hands under your just enough to raise your head on your own, holding the position Hoseok has left you in. 

His fingers drift back down to your waist, ghosting over the skin there before he slips between your legs, grazing over your clit. The contact makes you jolt, and you both moan as it drives his cock deeper into your cunt.

"That's right, it's time for your reward, baby." 

He starts rubbing circles against your clit as his thrusts once again turn sharper, quicker. You have to fight to keep your eyes open, to keep holding Seokjin's burning gaze as you're pounded into the table. Being watched so openly, so attentively, only turns you on more. Your whole body is shaking, muscles pulled tight, as the wave of pleasure in your belly begins to crest. You know there's no way you can hold back, not with how determined Hoseok is to make you explode. You're bringing Hoseok there right along with you though, your cunt clenching so sweetly around his cock that he knows he's not going to last very long. 

It's a particularly deep thrust combined with Hoseok rolling your clit between his fingers that finally sends you over the edge. You cry out as you reach your climax, trembling as your release washes over you. Hoseok groans as your walls clamp down around him with a vice grip, his hips glued to yours as he grinds once, twice, before stiffening as his orgasm hits. You moan weakly as you feel his come spurt into your cunt, flooding it with warmth. 

You're not quite sure when your eyes slipped shut, but when you open them, you find Seokjin practically looming over you from the couch, jaw clenched. He must've pulled his cock out at some point, the length flushed red from the slow, unsatisfying drag of his fingers. You whimper as Hoseok presses a tender kiss to the back of your neck, Seokjin darkly watching the action like he's one second away from throwing Hoseok to the side to take his place. 

"You're amazing, Y/n," Hoseok says, massaging your sides as he slowly shuffles back and slips out of you. 

You let your head drop to the table, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Hoseok keeps rubbing your back until your limbs stop shaking and you feel a little more like yourself.

"Angel," Seokjin calls from the couch, "Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop if you're tired." 

You push yourself up on your elbows, biting your lip as you take in the sight of Seokjin's hand wrapped around his hard cock, squeezing the base to keep his release from building without you. It twitches under your attention, another pearl of pre-come dripping out of the tip to slick up his length even more, coating his flushed skin. 

"I'm sure," You nod, glancing up at him through your lashes as you say, "Need you." 

"Fuck, alright," Seokjin curses, gripping his cock even tighter. "Come here then, angel, and you'll get what you want." 

The simmering heat in your belly roars back to life at Seokjin's words. You carefully push yourself up until you're standing on your feet, Hoseok's hands curled around your arms for support. You can feel Hoseok's come shift in your belly as take a step forward, whining as a bit drips out of your cunt and trails down to your thigh. 

Hoseok tsks. "You better keep all of that inside, sunshine. Don't waste another drop." 

You clench your walls tight, stumbling awkwardly over to the couch as you try to heed Hoseok's warning. Seokjin has already rid himself of his clothes by the time you reach him, his strong hands pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him. 

"Hi, angel," Seokjin smiles, cupping your face to run his thumb across your cheek. He winds the other around your middle, holding you close to his chest.

You practically melt into Seokjin's gentle embrace, nuzzling into his warm hand, "Hi yourself." 

Seokjin pulls you down to connect your lips with his, the softness of the first few pecks quickly turning more heated as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You bring your hands behind his neck, gliding your fingers through the soft hair there to tug him closer. The way Seokjin kisses you, hungry yet tender at the same time, leaves your head spinning. He swallows up the moan you let out, tongue twirling around yours as he uses his grip on your waist to grind you against his cock. 

You gasp at the first contact, at the feel of his hard cock slipping through your folds, bumping against your clit. You clench helplessly as Hoseok's come begins to leak out of your hole, your walls too stretched to hold it in. The spread of your legs makes it even harder, and the grind of Seokjin's length just arouses you more, making your cunt flutter with the need of being full again. You scrape your teeth along Seokjin's plush lips, whining as you say, "I-I can't–" 

His mouth pauses against yours as he feels something wet drip onto his thigh, understanding dawning on him as he feels your skin heat up with embarrassment. Seokjin removes his hand from your cheek in favor of bringing it down to your dripping cunt, scooping up the come clinging to your cunt before he fingers it back into you. 

"So messy," He murmurs, mouthing along your jaw as he adds another finger, pumping them slowly back and forth, pushing all of it deeper inside your pussy. The wet sucking sound of your cunt eagerly accepting it all back in makes you moan, eyes slipping shut as you hide your face in Seokjin's neck. 

He lets out a low chuckle at your shyness, removing his fingers to replace them with his cock. You mewl into Seokjin's neck as he guides his cock into you steadily, the hand on your waist slowly bringing you down until you're fully seated on his length. You can feel it throbbing deep in your guts, your breaths shaky as you adjust to him. 

"Gods, you feel so good," Seokjin moans as your wet, warm walls welcome him in, your and Hoseok's release slicking his cock. He moves both of his hands to your hips, gently rubbing the red marks Hoseok left there. 

You lightly raise yourself up before you sink back down, getting yourself used to the position and Seokjin's cock. You move your hands to his shoulders, setting a slow pace that gradually picks up as Seokjin's hands begin to roam. Your hips stutter as he reaches up to cup one of your breasts, flicking your nipple teasingly before he rolls it between his fingers, tugging on it in a way that makes your cunt vibrate with pleasure. He moans at the response he gets, his dark eyes drinking you in.

"Love your breasts," Seokjin groans, leaning forward to take it into his mouth, "You shouldn't keep them covered up, angel."  

"Seokjin, fuck," You dig your nails into his back as he closes his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub. Your next drop down on Seokjin's cock is a little harsher than before, a choked moan leaving you as your pleasure once again begins to build. Seokjin gives your other breast the same treatment, steadily rocking his hips up to meet yours as you ride him. 

He gives your nipple another swipe of his tongue before he kisses his way back up to your neck, biting down in a way you know is going to bruise. He wets the skin to soothe it, repeating the motion all over your throat as you reward him with pretty, breathy whimpers. You eventually grow restless and duck down to capture his mouth, the kisses filthy and messy as you keep rolling your hips. 

"Pretty," Seokjin moans between kisses, "You're so pretty, Y/n. Absolutely amazing." 

It's only when your thighs start shaking, burning with tiredness, that Seokjin takes over. His large hands grasp your ass, keeping a tight grip on your cheeks as he raises his knees to fuck into you. Seokjin picks up the pace from where you left off, his hands moving your body down to meet every thrust, impaling you on his cock with every stroke. He grunts as you clench down around him when he reaches particularly deep, brushing over your sweet spot. 

You slump against Seokjin's chest as he truly begins to lose his restraint, moaning against his skin as he pounds into you. The sting of your red cheeks slapping against Seokjin's hard thighs with every thrust just makes the fire in your stomach roar, the pleasure pain of it getting you to the finish line faster. 

You try to meet his thrust the best you can but the way Seokjin reaches so deep into your belly leaves you feeling a little dumbstruck, floaty. It's like your muscles have turned to jelly. 

Your cunt sounds sloppy as Seokjin hammers into you, fucking you so hard you swear you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach. Moans and whines fall freely from your lips, Seokjin's name gasped out with every thrust. Your oldest soulmate is feeling more competitive than he first let on and for a half second, you worry he might actually fuck you stupid in his quest to make you come harder than Hoseok could. 

You can feel him tensing up more with every thrust, as close to exploding as you are, the sounds of your skin slapping together echoing through the room. You don't want to come too soon, not without letting Seokjin finish too, but his next words do you in.

"You can let go now, angel," Seokjin half groans, half murmurs between one stroke and the next, "It's time to fill your pretty pussy to the brim – to stuff you full just like you wanted." 

You cunt spasms the moment you get permission to come, your walls hugging Seokjin's cock so firmly he can barely move his hips as your release hits you like a freight train. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Seokjin grinds you down against his cock, your clit rubbing over his toned stomach. Your moans are unintelligible, slurred, as Seokjin keeps up his pace for another dozen thrusts. It prolongs your orgasm, your toes curling as Seokjin finally hits his own high. 

His loud moan sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, your cunt massaging his length as he spills into it with hot spurts. Your arms are shaking like a leaf as you push yourself up, just enough to look at Seokjin's face.

He's a sight to behold with his head thrown back, his flushed chest rising and falling with every hard breath. His hair is messy from you tugging on it, his skin glowing with the sheen of sweat that has settled on you both. He looks beautiful.

You clumsily kiss his swollen lips, your body still too fucked out to work properly.

Seokjin opens his eyes slowly, grinning as he says, "There's my pretty girl." 

"Are you feeling okay?" He winds his arms around your back, plastering you against his racing heart. 

You open and close your mouth a few times, feeling dehydrated and exhausted, the words just a little too far out of your reach. 

You blink as Jimin suddenly pops into view, his smile bordering on feral as he reaches out to cup your cheek. "Oh, our poor baby is completely cock drunk," He coos.

You whine out a protest, too tired to engage in Jimin's teasing. He's also not... entirely wrong. 

"Thank you for the show, baby, you looked so fucking good," Jimin groans, adjusting himself in his sweats. He must have come while Seokjin was fucking you, too excited by the view in front of him to keep up with his comments. One of Seokjin's moans had sounded a little airer than normal, so you can only conclude that it was Jimin, hitting his own release while you were chasing yours. 

"It's a shame you're on birth control, otherwise the hyungs would've bred you so well," He pouts, his eyes shining with something wicked at the reaction it causes. 

You can't help but clench down around Seokjin, the dirty talk hot despite you not being close to ready to have kids. 

"Jimin," Seokjin warns, his cock twitching with interest inside your warm cunt. 

Even Hoseok lets out a pained groan from where he's perched on a nearby chair, his cock half-hard in his jeans. 

"Fine," Jimin huffs. He brushes his lips against yours, tone sweet as he asks, "Well then, baby, who won the competition? Which hyung fucked you the best?" 

You watch Hoseok tense up just as Seokjin's arms tighten around you, both anxious to know the result. You share a sly look with Jimin – one that makes him chuckle and shake his head – before you turn your face into Seokjin's neck, hiding your smile as you say, "Mhm.. It's a tie." 

"What do you think?" 

You smack your lips together, savoring the slightly tangy sauce. Yoongi watches you carefully, the spoon still hovering near your lips.

"It's good!" You grin, "I think it's perfect." 

Yoongi's smile turns into a pout as he glances down at the spoon, "Ah, but now I can't taste it. Hyung would kill me if I double-dipped."

"Can't you just grab–"

Your words are cut off by Yoongi's lips, a sweet kiss being pressed against your mouth. He lightly sucks your bottom lip between his own, his tongue just barely dipping into your mouth. He flashes you a gummy smile as he pulls back, nodding in satisfaction, "You're right, it is perfect."

"Hey!" You whine, lightly hitting his shoulder, "You totally set me up."

Your heart flutters as Yoongi leans in again, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he says, "Maybe." 

He steals another kiss before he turns back to the simmering pot in front of him, the spoon abandoned in the sink. You huff, stepping up behind him to rest your head against his back, your arms wrapping around his middle. Yoongi always smells like forest and warmth, something pleasant you just want to lie down and sleep in. 

Yoongi hums a low tune as you stand there, basking in the warmth of his body and the promise of a tasty lunch. He places one hand on top of yours, petting your skin, as he slowly stirs the pot with the other. 

"Hyung, I'm hungry!" 

You open your eyes to find Taehyung walking into the kitchen, rubbing his stomach with a pout. He brightens up as he sees you, the magazines in his hand thrown to the counter as he quickly rounds it to attach himself to your back. 

"Babe, I thought you were still in bed," Taehyung whines against your neck.

"Got hungry," You giggle. You lean more of your weight onto Yoongi, laughing as he complains about having two clingy brats as soulmates. You can see the fond smile on his face as you peek over his shoulder, the way he easily braces his feet to accept the two bodies practically lying on top of him. 

"Oh right! How long until the food is ready, hyung? I'm starving," Taehyung sighs dramatically. "My client is a fucking ass, he went almost an hour over time in our meeting complaining about things I can't even fix. It's not my fault his secretary is useless." 

"I'm sorry, Tae. Can't you drop him if he's being too unreasonable?" You ask.

Taehyung grumbles against your neck, his body tight with tension, "I wish. He brings too much money to the company to even consider ending the contract with him. He knows he can act like an ass and get away with it because he's practically paying us to babysit him." 

Yoongi lets out an annoyed snort, shaking his head as he says, "I hate to say it, but he's not going to be the only shitty client you're going to have to deal with. It comes with the job." 

"I know, hyung," Taehyung sighs. "But you know what's not shitty? Your cooking! And having some of your food would definitely brighten me up." 

"Brat," Yoongi chuckles. "It'll be done in five minutes, you can go grab some plates while it finishes cooking." 

Taehyung gives the back of your head a loud smooch before he skips over to one of the cupboards, doing as Yoongi instructed. 

You finally detach yourself from Yoongi's back, smiling at Taehyung's antics as you glance over at the magazines he dropped off earlier. You reach out to shuffle through them, none of them particularly piquing your interest until you catch sight of a flyer tucked between two pages. 

You carefully pull it out, excitement thrumming through your body as you realize it's for a flower parade. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of the town name, knowing it's a city that's only about an hour away from your old one. You're not sure if the house is within its limit or if it's just a neighboring one, but it does finally give you an idea of where you are. You quickly glance up at Taehyung and Yoongi, deliberately placing your thumb over the name as you notice that neither of them has seen you with it yet. 

"What's this?" You softly clear your throat, grabbing Yoongi's attention as you show it to him.

You see Yoongi's shoulders rise, his eyes frantically scanning the flyer until he sees your thumb. He motions for the paper, angling it away from you once it's in his hands, making sure the town name can't be seen.

"Ah, this," He gives you a slightly uneasy smile, "It's an annual flower parade they do in the town over to celebrate the beginning of summer. It says it's supposed to happen next weekend." 

You keep your expression schooled, tucking away that new piece of information into the back of your mind. 

"That sounds like fun! Do you think we could go?" You ask, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "I would love to see it." 

You're beginning to border on frantic for a change of scenery, for something that isn't just the four walls of this house. The garden does help and you have been allowed on a few walks around the neighbourhood, but it isn't enough. You will go stir crazy at some point or another if they keep you cooped up here forever. 

"What flower parade?" Taehyung walks over to Yoongi, peering down at the flyer. You cheer inwardly as Taehyung's smile broadens to a grin, a pleading expression taking over his face as he says, "Hyung, that looks like so much fun. We should all go watch it!" 

You know that Taehyung has a penchant for flowers, that he loves them almost as much as Seokjin does. After all, there's a reason you always received them along with your letters. 

"I don't know," Yoongi chews on his bottom lip, eyeing the flyer nervously. 

"Hyung," Taehyung whines, "pleaseeee. You know I love stuff like this." 

"Why don't we discuss it over dinner?" You propose, knowing you need to calm Yoongi's worried thoughts before he settles on a firm no.

"We'll only do it if everyone wants to go. I would love to experience it with you guys though–" You muster up a soft smile, your heart squeezing painfully at the truth as you say, "I've always wanted to do something like that with my soulmate. It seems really romantic." 

Yoongi's gaze is unreadable as he stares down at the flyer. You're almost holding your breath by the time his shoulders finally sag, his voice defeated as he murmurs, "Sure, if that's something you want, we'll discuss it later." 

You giggle behind your hand as Taehyung tackles Yoongi into a hug, your heart racing in your chest. As long as you play your cards right, you might finally get that taste of freedom you've been wanting for so long. Luckily for you, after almost eight months trapped together with your soulmates, you know just what buttons to push to sway the boys to your will. 

It only takes some begging and a little sweet talk to win the rest of the boys over. Their unease and suspicion quickly melt away as you murmur sweetly about how romantic you find the event – and that while you are nervous about the crowds (a lie), you wouldn't mind it as long as they stick close to you. Taehyung and Seokjin's enthusiasm for it works in your favor too, as Seokjin's bubbling excitement over finally getting to experience the flower parade erases the last of Yoongi's anxieties. 

The week leading up to the parade passes syrupy slow, the days dragging on as if they're mocking you. You're a bundle of nerves by the time you're driving into the city, squirming in your seat as you get closer and closer to your goal. If everything goes well during the parade, you'll be one step closer to earning their full trust – to them letting you go. 

The blindfold around your head comes off the moment the car passes by the town sign, the boys still taking whatever precautions they can to limit your knowledge about where you are. You already know, of course, but you have no intention of letting that slip. It's better if they think that you don't.

"Here we are, darling," Namjoon offers you his hand as he opens the door for you. His grip is iron-tight as you intertwine your fingers, clearly on edge as you step out to join the rest of the group. 

There's an air of tension wrapped around them all as they flock around you, one that doesn't dissipate even when they flank you at all sides as you walk further into town. Jimin has claimed the other side of your body, wrapping one of his arms snuggly around your waist, anchoring you to him. Nervous. 

Hoseok and Jungkook keep throwing glances over their shoulders as they walk in front of you, making sure you're still there whenever you go quiet for more than a few seconds. You can practically feel Taehyung and Seokjin breathing down your neck, their steps matching yours perfectly as they hold up the back. Yoongi keeps drifting back and forth like he can't quite decide where he should be to best ensure your safety. 

It should be suffocating but their behavior is simply pushed to the back of your mind, unimportant, when you finally lay eyes on actual people, strangers, crossing the street in front of you. A lump forms in the back of your throat as you watch a group of friends spill out of a nearby shop, their laughter echoing in your ears long after they've passed you by. 

The town is loud and bustling, music seeping out from every building you pass by. They've embraced the parade to the fullest, decorating the pathways with beautiful florals hanging from every lamp post and flower archways adorning some of the more expensive shops. It's like you've stepped into an explosion of colour as you reach the main street, no stone left undecorated and flowers clinging to every possible surface. The people milling about are just as colourful, the majority of them wearing bright, fun clothing, their faces painted with different patterns and artistic renditions of florals. You've heard talk of this parade before but you had no idea it was this big of a deal, that the townspeople take such pride in the event. 

"I think there's an available spot over there!" Jungkook points to somewhere in the middle of the street, leading the group over to the area he saw. It's just big enough for all of you to squeeze into, leaving you almost first in line on the sidewalk to watch the parade.

You've barely planted your feet on the ground when you hear a couple occupy the spot behind you, the rest of the sidewalk filling up quickly as the start of the event draws near. 

You look around, taking in the sights around you, your senses a little overwhelmed with the colours and noise after so many months of nothing but your soulmates for company. Your heart is picking up speed, matching the sound of distant drums as your gaze glides from couple to couple, their bright expressions and relaxed postures nothing like the love you know. 

The couples across the street hold their lover's hand gently, arms resting loosely around their shoulders to provide a safe bubble against the crowds around them. They lean into each other's bodies for comfort, to bear the ache of standing on their feet for a long time. 

Your lovers hold your hand with bruising grips, arms wound around your body like snakes, constricting you tighter and tighter with every breath. There's no comfort in their embrace, not when they cling to you with desperation – like they'd bury themselves under your skin if they only could.

You swallow thickly, your palm going clammy in Namjoon's tight hold.  

"You okay, darling?" Namjoon asks, leaning down to make sure you hear him over the crowd. 

"I'm fine," You lie, offering him a faint smile, "It's just a lot of people." 

"Let me know the moment it becomes too much and we'll leave," Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you a worried look. He doesn't turn away until you reassure him that you're okay, your mouth dry with the untruths that keep spilling from it. 

You can feel the sun beating down your neck, pearls of sweat forming along your back, sending shivers down your spine as they race down it. Seokjin, now in front of you, is taking pictures, capturing every little detail of the flower arrangements and different colourful species that have been grouped together along the street. The shutter of his camera sounds like bullets firing through the air, quickening your pulse with every snap. 

"There it is!" Taehyung grins, pointing down the street. 

Your vision feels like it's swimming as you turn your head to look, the drums so loud they force your heart to skip to the beat, sending it into a frenzy. You stare in a daze as people dance and cheer as they walk past you, flower petals raining down as they throw handfuls out of the baskets they're carrying. A float pauses in front of you, the florals an organized mess of every colour you can imagine. There's a particular arrangement you can't look away from, one that fills your stomach with dread.

It's them.

The tower in the middle of the float is made up of red, pink, purple, blue, green, yellow, and orange flowers, the same kaleidoscope of colors that have been haunting you for the past years. 

It's like a punch to the gut, reality suddenly snapping back into place. The cheers around you turn muffled, your mind reeling with the possibilities you've been suppressing for so long. 

Your mind flashes back to the police station you saw as you drove into town.

This city must be far enough away from your old one that Jimin won't have any connections here. The chances are slim that there are any officers here that are enamored with him, that worship him, like they do where he currently works. They might have heard of him and how he saved Jungkook, but you doubt they would dismiss your case just based on his reputation. Jimin might have already been talking to the officers in your new town, just in case you try something stupid, so this – this might be your only chance at getting real help. 

Heejun and Jaemin will for sure corroborate your story, and if the officers are quick, they should be able to secure the needed evidence. You know exactly where your old letters and gifts are stored in the attic. Hell, some of them are even displayed around the house. It shouldn't be difficult to find something incriminating. 

But–

Your gaze sweeps to the side, lingering on the boys. Jungkook's precious bunny smile is on display as he watches the dancers move around the street, a hint of awe in his eyes. Taehyung is practically hanging off Seokjin's back, pointing to everything he wants Seokjin to capture with his camera. The boys look mesmerized by the parade, their earlier tension eased by the excitement in the air. 

Your soul feels split in half, torn between what you want and what you should do. You don't want to leave them, despite everything they've put you through. They are your soulmates and over the past months, you've grown to really, really like them. The thought of leaving them hurts you, makes your heart ache something fierce, but you also know that you can never have a proper life if you stay. You are terribly worried about what might happen to them – the bond – if you go away, but you're also limiting the possibilities of ever finding a cure for their sickness if you don't. Maybe there's someone out there who can help you and them if you only look. 

Jimin's arm has fallen away from your waist during the parade, his hands around his mouth as he cheers for the performers.

You slowly ease your hand out of Namjoon's grip, hoping your smile isn't as shaky as it feels as you quickly explain, "I just need to tie my shoe."

Your knees nearly buckle as Namjoon gives you a once over, terrified that he might somehow catch you out. But Namjoon simply just smiles, showing off his dimples as he nods and turns back to watch the parade. 

You take a step back, crouching down to tie your slightly loose shoelace. Flower petals keep flitting around you, carried by the wind as they swoop and dance across the ground. You secure your shoe with a tight knot, the tips of your fingers so cold you can barely feel them from the anxiety crashing around inside your body.

You slowly stand back up, taking another small step back. 

None of the boys reach out for you, recapture you, their attention caught by the spectacle in front of them. Your group has been moved around by the crowd enough that another step has you standing behind all of them, watching with labored breath as you wait for their realization that you're not anchored to any of them. 

It doesn't come.

The chaos of the parade provides you with the cover you need to inch back, the loud drums and petals covering the ground muffling your footsteps. Your eyes flicker wildly between the seven of them, trying to figure out if any of them have noticed you beginning to slip away, but all you see is the boys laughing and smiling, their focus somewhere else. 

The couple that was standing behind you is now in front of you, their bodies forming a small wall, a shield, against your soulmates. The crowd behind you easily part as you advance backward, eager for a chance to get a closer look at the parade. Your body feels like a live wire, dread and adrenaline pumping through your veins at a rate that leaves you dizzy. 

Your heart is a jumbled mess of stay, go, stay, go – but your mind knows what it needs to do.

You take a mental picture of the sight in front of you, saving the image of the boys looking happy and beautiful, surrounded by warm sunlight and fluttering petals. 

For later. As a reminder that things could be good. 

It's only once you've reached the back of the street, the distance between you and them so wide that you can barely see Namjoon's head as he slowly turns to where you once stood, waving hands partially obscuring his face as his expression twists into despair, that you let crowd swallow you whole and run. 

a/n: thank you all so much for following along with this story for over three years!! what was supposed to be a short 20k fic suddenly turned into one that was 120k haha, but i've had so much fun working on LS and reading all of your theories have been amazing! 💖 thank you to everyone who voted in the original poll, this story is a collab between you and me :')

i know that the ending will leave some of you with a lot of questions and i can answer the most important one right away: No, I don't have any current plans for a sequel. I have told the story I wanted to tell and I'm happy with where it ended :) However, I might be open to doing some commissions down the line of "missing" scenes from the story if that's something you guys want!

it would mean the absolute world to me if you'd leave me a comment/reblog and let me know what you think of the final chapter! 💖 and if you'd feel so inclined, i do have a kofi if you'd like to support me with a coffee!

thank you all so much again!! i do have a few exciting fics coming up so i do hope you stick around for those!

lots of love, maggy.

[nochukoo97]

venom

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

summary: after a nasty breakup with your ex, who was a boxer, the person who introduced you to the sport, you decided to make life easier for yourself and switch clubs. little did you know that your club leader, also known as ‘venom’ in the ring, would eventually spark your interest. no matter how much jungkook interests you, you can’t bear to risk another failed relationship, you’re still hurt and traumatised from the inside. but will jungkook manage to crawl his way into your heart?

warnings: MINORS DNI! dom!jk, sub!oc, oral (f&m), fingering, unprotected sx (pls dont), kissing, oc is a little whiny heh, i hope thats all

wc: 10k+

teaser | masterlist

When your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, had introduced you into boxing, you immediately fell in love with the sport. In fact, Jaehyun had personally trained you, he had been a boxer for many years, and he had been the one who had taught you all your skills and techniques you know today.

Little did you know this relationship that seemed perfect, both of you being interested in boxing, would turn upside down. Jaehyun had been the sweetest, most charming guy at the beginning of your relationship, but the moment you had turned 20, he had begun tormenting you, using boxing as an excuse to purposefully hit you a little harder than needed, to push you to the ground and belittle you.

The man who you once thought would be your forever partner, became your biggest nightmare. He became unrecognisable to you, making your insecurities shoot through the roof, degrading you to the lowest of the lowest.

Hell, you didn’t know how you managed to put through months of that treatment, before one day you eventually snapped after spotting Jaehyun with another girl from the club, Jisan, at the gym late at night kissing.

It broke your heart, but at the same time you knew that it would be dumb to stay on and even try to forgive him, no matter how many times he had begged at your feet to stay, claiming he would change and be a better boyfriend to you.

That’s how you find yourself trailing behind Jimin, the man who had offered you to join their club.

You researched beforehand, Jeon Jungkook, leader of the club, ring name ‘Venom’, he’s won too many competitions to count.

“Don’t worry, most of the guys here are pretty friendly, there’s another girl here too, so you won’t be alone either,” The man you follow tells you, he had introduced himself to you, Jimin, saying that he was one of the members of the club.

“That’s nice to hear, I didn’t really have good company at my old club,” You let a smile out, Jimin seemed friendly and approachable, your new start was already looking good in your eyes.

“Anyways, this is where we train,” He leads you through a glass door, the familiar sounds of heavy breathing and sand bags being punched immediately reach your ears, it’s almost satisfying, being back in boxing after a month of break.

“And that’s our team leader over there, we call him Venom in the ring,” He chuckles, head nodding towards the man going at the black sandbag.

You watch as he goes at the punching bag, eyes narrowed, focused, his black gloves attack the bag, the gold lettering on the gloves spells out his nickname, ‘Venom’.

“Jeon! New girl is here!” He calls out, making the man halt, turning to look at the both of you. Jimin’s words attracted the other members, there were a few who rushed to you before the team leader did.

“Damn, we got a pretty one,” The guy nearest to you nudgest your arm playfully, as you blink, unsure of how to react.

“Tae, stop it,” Jimin nudges the guy back, “Sorry, he’s usually like that, he doesn’t have the intention to make you uncomfortable,” he scratches the back of his neck.

“Leave her alone, go back to what you were doing,” You spot Jungkook pushing the guys away, grumbling as he approaches you.

Or should you not call him Jungkook? Maybe it was disrespectful.

“___?” You whip your head up to meet his gaze as he calls you, more in a questioning sort of way.

“Yes,”

“I’ve heard good stuff about you,” His stance towers over you, it makes you a little wary of his already brooding aura.

“I want to see her skills,” He tells Jimin, who nods in response.

“You ready? This is your first test to see if you can truly survive here, I’m not gonna go easy on you,” He warns you, tightening the strap on his gloves.

“I’m ready,” You walk over to your bag sitting at the corner of the room, fetching your gloves as you quickly wrap your hands and put the gloves on.

-

To say Jungkook was impressed, was an understatement. Hell, he did not expect you to dodge and hit every attack so precisely.

“You did well, good job,” He tells you, removing his gloves and watching as you smile back at him, panting slightly as you bow.

“What on earth did I just hear,” Another guy deadpans from the side, jaw dropping to the ground.

“There’s no way Jeon just let out a praise,” He gasps, “Come on man, in my six years of knowing you you’ve never complimented me once!”

“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles back at him.

You make eye contact with Jimin, who also seems amused at the team leader’s behaviour. Was he not acting normal? Why was everyone so amazed by his words?

“I gotta say, ___, that was impressive, I’m Yoongi,” Another man, around the same height as Jimin, approaches you, extending a hand. You politely bow, shaking his hand.

It seems like joining this club wasn’t so bad after all, it seemed like a welcoming place with good support already.

-

unknown number: hi __, this is jungkook, jimin passed me your number.

unknown number: come early tmr, you’re gonna meet your trainer.

You pick up your phone, the screen lighting up caught your attention.

you: okay, thanks.

The next day you quickly head towards the club, grabbing a quick breakfast along the way. Before you push open the glass door to the entrance, you spot Jungkook training with another man whom you had not seen previously.

“___, come,” He calls out to you, heaving when he abruptly stops punching the mitts, “This is Woojae, he’s my personal trainer and I want you to train with him,”

WHAT?. Jungkook’s personal trainer?

“I’ve told him not to go easy on you, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you’re weaker than anyone else here, am I right?” He leans closer, whispering into your ear as his hand clasps around your arm.

“Yes,” You almost shudder at the close proximity, you’ve never felt this intimidated by someone before. To be honest, you were proud of your strong aura that you carried while boxing, not afraid to spar with even the burliest of team mates. Yet somehow Jungkook, or Venom, had a different effect on you.

“Hi ___, nice to meet you,” Woojae, quickly shrugs off the mitt on his hand, shaking your hand.

“I’ll finish up here with Jeon and then I’ll analyse your performance ‘kay?” He tells you, while putting the mitts back on, you nod your head, taking a seat on the floor to watch while wrapping up your hands.

You noticed Jungkook’s eyes had a different glint in it whenever he began boxing. The way his eyes would narrow, focused on whatever was in front of him, the grunts he let out after releasing a strong punch, his heavy breathing filling the air.

It was fascinating to you, having always dreamt of being in Jungkook’s position. But being a female in a male dominated sport was hard, if you were lucky, you had competitions with other females. But the majority of them were still males. Yet you didn’t feel this was a disadvantage, after all you still managed to win.

“___, your turn,” Woojae calls you out, as you quickly get up, getting onto the mat.

The first few minutes of sparring was not bad, it definitely wasn’t easy considering you could tell Woojae was not going easy on you. His attacks back at you were much more complicated, it often took you by surprise.

WACK.

You don’t even realise what’s happening before Woojae’s glove comes into contact with your left cheek.

A groan emits from your throat, hand reaching up to touch the area with your gloves.

“Gonna give up? Or are you gonna continue to fight like a strong fighter?” Woojae nudges you a little harshly with his glove, he definitely was not going easy on you.

But still, who were you to give up? You’ve been hit multiple times before, but this time it simply felt different. With your team leader’s gaze trained on you.

You quickly get back into your starting position, attacking back at Woojae. With each punch you throw, your ponytail swishes slightly, a pant comes out from your mouth.

Jungkook notices the change in your demeanour, you have this determined look in your eyes, hands up and ready to fight back. It’s impressive to him.

You weren’t about to give up so easily. You were gonna prove you are worthy of being in this club.

-

“___, out of my many years of knowing Jeon, he’s never once offered anyone else his personal trainer,” Mingyu, another team member whom you had recently gotten to know, whispers as he gazes to where Jungkook was, punching a sandbag.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” You wave him off, chuckling, “Maybe he just wants to toughen me up with training so he assigned the same trainer?”

“Nah, I think you’re different. The other girl here, Yubin, she’s currently on holiday, but she practically begged Jeon to train with her and his trainer,” He starts, “It’s like a miracle to see him like this,”

Hoseok, you came to learnt who was also another teammate, leans in to join your conversation, “Yeah, and just warning you, shes like fucking delusional about him, our leader gets so annoyed whenever she clings onto him,” He laughs, as you nod, eyebrows slightly raised at the new information.

“___, I’ll start with you today,” Woojae comes up to you, reaching out a hand to pull you up from where you were sitting on the floor.

“Have fun!” Hoseok calls out, as you laugh at him, turning back to trail behind your trainer.

-

You had been told today was a match between Jungkook and someone else from a neighbouring team,

“That guy’s name is Eunwoo, he used to be best friends with Jeon, but they’re aren’t on the best of terms,” Jimin tells you, pointing towards the other guy in the ring, “Jeon’s in for a lot of money,”

Another thing you learnt was that Jungkook and Eunwoo had fought before, and after Jungkook had won, Eunwoo insisted on a rematch immediately.

The match was held at your club’s gym, people from different clubs surrounded the ring, chatters filled the room and both guys prepared in their own rooms. It seemed to be a huge thing, considering even though it was only two clubs fighting, there were at least five others who came to watch.

“Okay! Settle down, we’re starting now,” The announcer spoke through the microphone, catching everyone’s attention as the noise reduced to mutters.

“First, we have the one and only ‘Venom’, the previous champion!” Jungkook enters the ring, with Namjoon by his side, another team member. His eyes are trained on his opponent, who was currently outside the ring, preparing to enter.

“Next, it’s Eunwoo, who challenged Jeon back for a rematch, he seems prepared today,” Eunwoo enters the ring with his cornerman, chest puffed out as he approaches Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again Jeon, hope you’ll enjoy the taste of defeat today,” He sneers, coming a little too close to Jungkook for his liking.

“Fuck off, you better watch what you say,” Jungkook grits his teeth, his black mouth guard showing as he shoves Eunwoo back to remain a distance.

The crowd releases a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘damns’, as Namjoon pulls Jungkook a little further back, in an attempt to call him down.

The bell rings, both cornermen step aside, as Jungkook and Eunwoo approach each other, both their fists kept up.

Eunwoo launches the first attack, jabbing at Jungkook who blocks all the attacks, his fists remain up, not faltering once.

But throughout, Jungkook doesn’t attack back at Eunwoo, he only dodges and defends all his attacks, making the crowd confused.

“What the hell is Jeon doing? I placed so much fucking money on that guy, is he wimping out?”

“What’s going on with Venom today? I’ve never seen him like this,”

“Jeon, are you being a pussy? Gonna lose that ‘Venom’ title?” Eunwoo provokes, but Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only glares at him, dodging another punch.

“Why is he not attacking back?” You turn to Jimin, who’s sitting beside you.

“He’s using a new technique, but it’s surprising, he’s never practiced this before and it’s usually discouraged,” Jimin turns to face you, “He’s basically trying to tire Eunwoo out and conserve his energy till the last minute,”

Your mouth opens to form an ‘o’, nodding your head as you watch Eunwoo continuously provoke Jungkook.

“Come on! Are you sure you’re just gonna put your fucking hands up and dodge my attacks? Why? Too fucking weak to even attack back, what happened to you Jeon?” Eunwoo spits in his face, laughing while pulling his hand down to jab Jungkook in the rib, making him falter back and groan.

“Shit, he got hit pretty hard there,” Hoseok mutters beside you.

“Or is it because of that new girl in your club huh? Fancy her? Maybe when I win, I’ll ask the pretty girl to come and kiss me on the cheek, huh? Would you like that?” You stiffen at the mention, some people amongst the crowd letting out reactions and turning their gaze to you.

That was all it took for Jungkook to growl back at Eunwoo, deciding he was done playing games with the guy and waiting for him to tire out.

Jungkook quickly regains his composure, this time he isn’t waiting to tire the guy out anymore, instead he throws full-blown jabs back at Eunwoo, grunting harshly.

“Fuck! That really got you going huh?” Eunwoo attempts to dodge, slowly losing his energy.

“Eunwoo! What the fuck are you doing! Wake up!” His coach yells from the crowd, watching as Eunwoo takes a hit from your team leader.

Jungkook sends a jab to Eunwoo’s rib, causing him to falter, his glove makes contact with Eunwoo’s jaw, watching as the guy falls to the floor, groaning.

“Are you gonna get up? Or accept that I’ll always win you,” Jungkook sneers, launching another jab to the guy’s rib.

“10, 9, 8, 7,” The announcer begins counting down into the mic, Eunwoo attempts to get back up, but groans as his arms give way and fall back to the ground.

“Awww, gonna accept defeat again like the last time?” Jungkook leans down, pressing his glove into Eunwoo’s torso.

“Fuck- Off,” Eunwoo grunts, using all the strength he has left to push Jungkook off him.

“6, 5, 4,” The cheers begin filling the room, “3, 2, 1!”

“Venom takes the championship again! Jungkook wins the match!” The announcer lifts Jungkook’s arm up, signaling victory.

The room bursts into cheers and Jungkook smirks, turning to face his club. Eunwoo’s team on the other hand seemed the opposite, having lost all the money bet on him.

“Try again next time, huh Eunwoo?” Jungkook turns to his opponent, laughing as he exits the ring.

Eunwoo can only mutter curses under his breath, his cornerman quickly aiding him to stand up.

“___,” You hear Jungkook’s voice call out to you, as you whip your head up to face him.

“Did I do good today?” He leans down to whisper into your ear, as you shudder, his hot breath fanning onto your skin, “Hmm?”

Your cheeks are flushed, as Jungkook pulls back to read your expression. Why was he suddenly being so bold in front of so many people?

Of course, people amongst the crowd noticed this, they sent a few reactions, which made you even more embarrassed at the sudden attention.

“Yeah, you did great,” You can’t even look him in the eye, eyes trained on his chest, heaving heavily as he catches his breath.

Jungkook nudges your chin fondly, chuckling as he pats your head, heading over to his room to change and cool down.

“I’ve never seen our team leader do that in my whole life, what’s going on,” Jimin nudges you from the side, as the rest of your club members join in agreeing.

“Honestly, I don’t know either,” You mutter, cheeks still tainted a bright red from the previous situation.

-

“Hi! I’m Yubin! Nice to meet you, seems like I’ll finally have a friend,” The girl in front of you seems more friendly than you had expected. When Hoseok had mentioned Yubin to you, you had initially thought that she would be snarky and mean, maybe she wasn’t as bad as she seems.

Okay nevermind, you’ve definitely made an assumption way too early.

“Kookie, can you please help me hold my mitt?” You watch, wincing slightly at the scene before you. Yubin is clinging onto Jungkook’s arm, the tattooed one, as she holds out the mitts in front of her.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grunts, shoving Yubin away from him.

She doesn’t take this too well, whining as she dramatically pouts in front of him, “Please? I want to train with you,”

Jimin cringes from the side, nudging your shoulder to check if you were witnessing the scene unfold before you. Oh, for sure you were.

“I can’t, I’m gonna start training,” He turns away from the girl, grunting under his breath.

“___, come here,” When Woojae suddenly calls you out, you whip your head up, grabbing your gloves and the wrap and heading towards him. The trainer makes Jungkook hold on to your mitts, to which Jungkook doesn’t reject.

Yubin doesn’t like this one bit, she immediately drops her jaw in shock, glaring straight at you as you approach the man.

“I need to wrap my hands first, hold on,” You tell Woojae, dropping your gloves to wrap your hands.

“Bring it here, I’ll do it,” Jungkook takes the roll from you, skillfully wrapping up your hand quickly.

“Kookie, how is that fair?” Yubin whines from the side, standing beside the both of you as she watches Jungkook finish up wrapping your hands.

“Yubin, get out, I’m trying to train with her,” He turns to glare at the girl, making her cower away.

“That’s so unfair, suddenly she comes in and has all his attention,” Yubin mutters under her breath as she walks away, but you manage to catch that. It somehow makes you proud inside.

-

“I want to spar with ___,” Yubin announces, as Jungkook crosses his arms, frowning at the girl sitting across from him. Most of the guys were sitting around at the couch, right before practice. Today was meant to be a more laid back practice, so it meant the trainers were not in the gym today.

“Why?” Jungkook questions the girl, “I’m not sure you’re at her level yet,”

Yubin gasps, purely offended at that, she stands up, declaring, “Don’t care, gonna spar with her today, I’ll tell her when she arrives.”

The sudden news definitely shocks you when you enter the gym, but nonetheless you still accept it, putting on your gloves and getting into the ring.

To your surprise, since you weren’t aware of what her level was, you managed to get her on the floor easily within the first few minutes of sparring. One jab to her rib and she had already landed on the ground, unable to get up.

“I think I broke my rib,” She sobs, sounds rather fake to you, but you still rush to her side, apologising as you ask her where it hurts.

“Piss off, you purposefully hurt me,” She grunts, launching a punch to your face unexpectedly.

You only feel the harsh contact between her glove and your nose, a loud crunch sounding out as you groan.

“Fuck, are you okay? Hey! Someone get a towel, she's bleeding quite badly!” You can hear Jimin yell, as someone scurries to retrieve the towel

Pain sears through your face, your nose throbs as you wince, hissing at the pain.

When you open your eyes, there’s a puddle of blood in front of you, blood dripping down from your nose as you quickly remove your gloves.

And yet Yubin has the audacity to fake whine, “Guys, I literally broke my rib here and you’re all attending to her?”

“Yubin, your rib is fine, I felt it just now, there isn’t even a bruise so quit complaining,” Tae groans, nudging the girl to get up from the floor.

“I’ll do it,” Jungkook comes back with a wet cloth, but pulls it away from Jimin’s grasp when he tries to take it.

“What?” Jimin is dumbfounded as he watches Jungkook carefully grab your chin, making you turn to face him as he wipes off the blood from your face.

“What the hell is going on…” Hoseok mutters, watching in awe as Jungkook, the man known for his powerful and brooding aura, tenderly wipes your face with a cloth. It astounds everyone to see their team leader be so gentle for once.

“Yubin, what’s your problem?” Jungkook turns to face the girl, eyebrows furrowed as his expression contrasts to his hands gently tending to you.

“She hit me too hard! Jungkook, can’t you see she almost broke my rib!” Yubin’s being unnecessarily dramatic at this point, and everyone else can see right through her.

“Don’t bother coming back tomorrow, you’re suspended from here until after tomorrow. The rules are clear, no foul play, and you clearly punched her after the sparring was over.” He orders her, making her exit the gym.

“Come, go to the medical room, you busted your lip too,” Jungkook grabs your hand, leading you into the room and closing the door behind him.

Your heart is erratically pounding in your chest, your breathing is slightly heavier, from both the previous sparring and Jungkook’s ministrations.

You sit on the couch in the room, hands fiddling with each other as Jungkook shuffles through the medical kit.

“Thanks for that just now,” You whisper, but Jungkook catches it, turning to face you, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile.

“Just ignore her, she’s usually like that.” He tells you, taking a cotton bud and applying the ointment on your busted lip. You wince at the sudden contact, hissing as the cut stings.

“Sorry, it’ll be quick I promise,” He tells you, eyes focusing on applying the cream.

Seeing Jungkook so up close does things to your heart, you notice his two lip piercings, the chain necklace he has on, his hair covering his eyes slightly.

You unconsciously reach up to swipe his hair out of his face, before quickly pulling your hand back once you realise what you were doing.

“Hmm?” He hums, looking back up to make eye contact with you. Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest as he scans your face, cheeks tainted as your eyes stare back at his. Fuck, you do things to him.

“Am I making you soft? Why does everyone act so surprised when you do this kind of stuff?” You whisper, maintaining eye contact with him.

“Maybe you are,” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, it makes your heart skip a beat. “Why? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You mumble, looking down at your hands in your lap. Your voice wavers as you reply, not trusting yourself to speak fully.

“So you’ll let me do this?” He leans in, breath fanning against your ear. Your breath hitches, his close proximity is so familiar to you, yet not. Even though it wasn’t the first time he was playing with you like this, it had caught you by surprise every time.

You stiffen slightly as you feel his lips make contact with your ear for a split second, eyes widening as he pulls back to face you.

“You’re cute when you're flustered. A whole different person. When you’re fighting you look like an angry cat,” He chuckles, teasing you as you gasp.

“No I don’t!” You slap his chest playfully, feeling at ease with the man already.

“Mm, okay,” He muses, turning back to place the ointment into the medical kit.

You clutch onto your chest for a second, processing what had just happened.

He’s about to be the death of you.

-

“___, there’s another girl from a team who requested to spar with you, her name’s Jisan, you’ll be in a match with her next week,” Namjoon approaches you, telling you.

“What?” You gasp, raising your voice a little as Namjoon is taken aback by your reaction.

“Nothing,” You sigh. There was no way Jisan, the girl Jaehyun had cheated with you on, had the nerves to even set up a match with you like that. But still, it gave you an opportunity to get your revenge back, so who were you to back down from this fight?

For the next week following up to the fight, you’ve been staying late at the gym, punching the same sandbag as you push yourself to work harder. There was no way you were letting yourself fall to Jisan.

“___, go home, you’re exerting yourself too much,” Jimin tells you, holding the sandbag to stop it from swaying.

“Can’t” You pant, resting your palms on your thighs as you catch your breath, “Can’t lose to her, need to practice,”

“I’m telling you, you’re gonna over exert yourself and not do as well during the actual match,” He warns you, but leaves you alone, packing up his stuff to leave.

“I won’t, I just need to train as hard as I can to beat her.”

-

Oh, how wrong were you.

Jisan currently has you pinned against the floor, you groan as she lands another punch square to your jaw.

“___! Get up!” You can hear Woojae shout from the side, but everything’s hurting from how hard the girl had punched you.

“Jisan! Jisan! Jisan!” That’s all you hear as the crowd cheers, the countdown already starting as you struggle against her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, no wonder Jaehyun left you for me,” She sneers in your face, as a tear escapes from your eye.

“Hah! What a pussy! Babe, take a look at her, pathetic,” She calls over to Jaehyun in the crowd, making you growl underneath her. It’s too late, the bell shrills, indicating your defeat.

You don’t bother to wait for Woojae to come and assist you down, instead, you run out of the ring, out of the gym and far away from the crowd, to a place behind the gym where no one went to.

It hurts your pride, especially to lose to someone like Jisan. You didn’t miss the way Jaehyun had laughed right in your face as he watched you get beaten up. It made you so mad that you let yourself lose to someone like her.

There was a sandbag hanging there, as you relentlessly attacked it, releasing all your pent up anger. Despite how many times you tried to punch the bag, your emotions built up on top of each other.

It’s like your world is crashing down, as you slide down and curl up into a ball, sobbing. Your pride was at your lowest, to be tormented by your ex, have him laugh in your face, have the girl he cheated on with you to beat you in a boxing match, it made you feel like you were worthless.

It’s been almost an hour as you sit against the wall, sobbing into your arms as you stare at the ground. Why did you have to lose? You spent so much energy into preparing for this match, yet you lost.

“___,” You hear someone call out to you, hand wrapping around your sobbing figure. But you push whoever was there away, there was no way anyone could see you in this state.

“Come here, it’s only me here, everyone else left,” You recognise the voice now, it’s Jungkook.

“Go away, I’m fine,” You sniff, whipping away the tear rolling down your cheek. It was even more embarrassing to you that Jungkook had seen you fail in front of his own eyes, and now he’s watching you weep pathetically because you lost to Jisan.

“It’s fine to lose you know, ___,” He squats next to you, but you only turn away, refusing to show your face.

“It’s not okay when that’s the girl my ex cheated with me on in my old club,” You spit out, a scoff coming out from your mouth at the thought of them.

Jungkook stiffens slightly at this, having not known much about your previous experience with your old club. He had only merely known that you had been with another club but it wasn’t ideal for you, which was why you had switched over.

“I have lost to many people like that before too, people who I want to get revenge on, you know?” He starts, sitting next to you, “But because I was so focused on the fact that I hated them, and I wanted them to lose so badly, I put aside my focus on actually implementing my skills during the match,”

You turn over to watch him through your teary eyes, noticing his gaze softening the moment he makes eye contact with you.

“And I know you aren’t weak for a fact, in fact everyone in the crowd could tell that it wasn’t the fact that you weren’t capable enough. We could tell you were distracted with something else, which is why I also came to find you,” He brushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I know how strong you are ___, or else why would I accept you into my club, hmm?” He tells you, “Don’t let this defeat indicate your strength and level in boxing, our whole team knows how strong you are,”

“The most important thing is to put aside everything else, and just focus on your skills in the match. Never let anything else falter you,”

You can’t help but smile at the praise, even though your heart still feels heavy after the loss, maybe his words took a little of that weight off your chest.

“If you want, I’ll spend extra time after training to train with you,”

You whip your head up, eyes widening in shock.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t mind since I can see the potential in you ___,”

-

So you and Jungkook had begun staying back after practice and training together, and the both of you had definitely grown closer than before.

“Good!” He praises as you relentlessly attack his hits, punching the mitts with all your might.

“One more round then we’re done,” You nod your head, catching your breath and taking a sip of water before returning back to the mat where Jungkook was waiting.

“Start,” You’re about to hit the mitt, preparing to launch a jab before you’re cut short, both you and Jungkook were shocked to hear the door to the gym open.

Practice ended at least a good hour ago, so everyone should have gone home by now.

But of course, you shouldn’t be surprised that Yubin was the one entering the gym, a fake gasp coming from her mouth as she runs up to Jungkook.

“Yubin, what are you doing here,” Jungkook shrugs her hand off when she clings onto his arm.

“Are you giving ___ private lessons? Can I join?” She flutters her lashes at him, pouting and attempting to give him puppy eyes, remember, attempting.

You decide to take matters into your own hands, why must she get in the way of you and Jungkook?

“No Yubin, we’re specifically only training together, besides, aren’t you supposed to be home now? I’ll see you tomorrow,” You tell her, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back to the mat. He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as he lets himself get pulled by you.

Yubin scoffs at this, she doesn’t have any intentions of giving up, as she approaches you both again.

“Jungkookie~, You’ll let me join right?” She asks him, standing a little too close to Jungkook to your liking.

“No Yubin,” He grunts, putting the mitts back on and ignoring her shocked reaction. You can only laugh watching her stomp out of the gym.

“Jealous, huh?” He taunts you, smirking as he watches your reaction.

“No, I just wanted to train, didn’t want her in the way,” You mumble, pulling your arms up to get ready.

Jungkook finds it amusing, but he doesn’t comment on your behaviour further, simply complying and returning back to train you.

-

To say you and Jungkook had grown close was an understatement, he would treat you to dinner or food after your training, and would constantly text you to check up on your health. You were content with this, but your heart said otherwise. There was always this small part of you that craved for more, that yearned for a deeper relationship with him. Yet the possibility of a new relationship failing just like your old one with Jaehyun, led you to push those feelings aside.

You sigh, punching the sandbag again as you snap out of your daze. Ever since Jungkook’s fight with Eunwoo, he seemed to be more interested in you, playing with your heart and teasing you here and there. It made you go crazy, thinking about him when you went to bed and the moment you woke up.

“Hey ___, what are you doing after this?” Mingyu taps you on the shoulder, catching your attention.

“I’m gonna train with Woojae and Jungkook, then I should be done for the day, why?” You tell him, holding the sandbag in place to stop it from swaying.

“Wanna get drinks with me? I’m bored and I wanted to go to this bar,” Mingyu smiles at you, waiting for your response.

“Sure, I’ve got to tell Jungkook to cancel our extra practice today, hold on,” You were definitely taken aback by the sudden ask, but you weren’t opposed to it either. Mingyu seemed like a friendly guy anyways, to you it was good to make some friends here and there.

You approach the said man, who was currently talking to Jimin.

“Jungkook,” He turns around to face you, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“I’ve got plans tonight with Mingyu so can we cancel the extra practice today?” You tell him, Jungkook’s eyes widen, since when did you have plans with Mingyu, his friend out of all people?

“Yeah sure,” He starts, “He asked you?” Arms folding as he looks over to the guy.

“Yeah,” You reply, noticing a slight frown forming on his face as he gazes over to Mingyu, but you choose to ignore it anyway.

-

“Okay you’re done today, good work,” Woojae pants, reaching out to bump his gloves into yours. You notice Jungkook standing at the side of the gym, so you head towards him.

“Did I do well today?” You playfully nudge him, giving him a smile as you await his response.

Instead you’re met with a cold “Yeah”, from him, Jungkook doesn’t even spare you a glance before he heads to one of the sandbags, beginning to jab at it a little too hard.

“Jeon, lay back a little, you’re gonna burst another one of those bags,” Woojae jokes, laughing as he packs up his stuff. Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only continues to punch it harder.

“Don’t worry about him, to be honest this is his normal self, ever since you came along he’s been more soft, so don’t be too surprised,” Woojae whispers towards you, as you only meekly nod.

But why was he being different all of a sudden? Did you do something?

“Hey ___, you’re done right? Let’s go,” Mingyu wraps his arm around you, as you giggle, following him. But you also don’t fail to notice the punching sounds in the back growing unconsciously louder.

-

It was the morning of your huge fight, you headed to the gym to warm up before the match, expecting to see Jungkook there. Yet when you enter the gym, you’re met with cold, hard silence.

Maybe he just wanted more sleep? He’ll be watching your match for sure right?

When you enter the ring, even though a whole crowd of people was cheering you on, a huge sum of money was placed on you, you couldn’t help but enter with a heavy heart.

Looking over to where your team sat, your team leader, Jungkook, was nowhere to be seen. The spot where he usually sits empty.

Was he really that mad at you to the point he didn’t come to your match? You honestly thought deep down inside, maybe you and him had something together, it made you want to believe in relationships again.

You don’t have time to look over and wait for the said man to arrive, as the announcer introduces you and your opponent.

Throughout the first round, you were constantly being attacked, you failed to defend yourself, your opponent managing to catch you at your weakest moments, jabbing you right and left. And everytime you tried to attack back, she managed to block your hits, tiring you out instantly.

You couldn’t help it, not when Jungkook was in your mind. Not when you couldn’t spot the man sitting amongst the crowd.

The bell shrills when you land on the ground, unable to get up. You still had one more round, yet you were ready to give up.

Woojae walks over to help you up, “___, what’s up with you today?”

“I don’t know,” You can’t even bear to look him in his eyes, head hung low as you walk to your prep room.

“Whatever it is, you have half an hour to sort it out, whether you lose or win, put in your best effort, not whatever happened out there,” He strictly tells you, before closing the door, leaving you alone in the room to gather your thoughts.

“Where is he? Did I really do something that bad to anger him?” You mutter under your breath, a string of curse words escape your mouth, frustration boiling from you.

“I’ve been watching you from in here,”

You immediately jump at the voice, chills running down your spine as you whip your head up. Jungkook’s standing against the wall, back leaning on the wall with his arms folded, you can’t read his expression, but he nods his head towards the TV mounted to the wall, the empty ring displayed on the screen.

“You scared me,” You whisper, letting out a sigh of relief, at least it wasn’t what you thought it was, some kind of ghost.

“Did you forget what I told you?” He approaches you, slowly walking towards your seated figure on the couch. “To not let anything else distract you and focus on your skills in the game?”

“That’s bold of you to say when you were the reason why I couldn’t focus just now,” You scoff, before stiffening up, realising that you had just exposed yourself.

“Hmm? You were thinking about me?” He leans closer to face you, both your faces inches apart.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounds in your chest, you’re pretty sure he might even be able to hear it.

“No, I mean, not really,” You turn your head to face away from his gaze, but he only puts a finger under your chin to guide you to face back to him.

“You sure?” He taunts you, a smirk clear on his face as he watches you flush. “It’s fun to see this side of you, hmm? All flustered under my touch?”

You can’t even reply to him, your eyes only widen as he leans further.

“So you won’t mind if I do this?”

Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Jeon Fucking Jungkook, Venom.

You halt for a second, before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

When he pulls apart, the both of you pant heavily, staring at each other.

“Been waiting forever to do that, you know?” He breaks the silence first, “Now since you’ve gotten your kiss, you better not be distracted in your second round in ten minutes,”

You gasp, still flustered from a while ago, “How am I supposed to focus now when you just kissed me?”

“Win the match and I’ll give you a reward later,” He pecks your lips, sending you a teasing smile.

You can’t even process what has happened, in the last twenty minutes of your break, Jungkook had kissed you. THE Jungkook kissed you.

-

This time, Jungkook sits amongst the crowd, you make eye contact with him before going up into the ring, it gives you a boost of motivation.

You’re curious, what reward would he give you if you did win? If you didn’t, would he be disappointed? But he just kissed you, so what does that mean?

“Last round!” The announcer calls out, as you step into the ring. You shake any thoughts off your mind, “Don’t think about anything else, focus,” you tell yourself.

You land a few jabs on your opponent, causing her to falter back. Another right uppercut to her jaw and she falls to the ground. You don’t let her take the opportunity to get up as you jab her again.

The countdown starts, as she tries to get up, with every second that counts, your heart beats harder and harder.

“3,2,1!” The announcer shouts, “___ takes the champion!” He holds up your hand high, as you smile, feeling a surge of relief. Finally, victory is yours.

You spot your team cheering up and down, Jungkook smiling proudly as cheers flood the arena.

“I knew you could do it!” You laugh as Jimin pats you on the back, the other club members had come over to congratulate you as well.

-

The whole club had decided to go out for a meal as a celebration for your first win, finding a restaurant near the gym.

You decide to text Jungkook, who was sitting across from the table to you.

you: so what’s my reward? 🙃

His phone lights up on the table, catching his attention.

jungkook: you’ll find out later

jungkook: follow me back to my apartment

Your heart thumps in your chest, looking up to make eye contact with the man.

Jungkook gestures towards your phone, signalling for you to check it.

jungkook: follow me outside, im going for a smoke break

“I’ll be outside,” Jungkook stands up, as the rest of the table nods before quickly engaging back in the conversations.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table, scurrying behind Jungkook.

“Come here,” He calls out to you, walking into the alleyway next to the restaurant. You scuttled behind him, watching as he pulls out a cigarette from the box and lights it, inhaling.

“I want to know my reward,” You demand, hands planted on your hips as you stare back at him.

“Patience sweetheart,” He sighs, turning his head to the side and blowing out the smoke.

“So what are we?”

Jungkook’s a little taken aback by the sudden question, but he doesn’t let it show, walking forward to cage you against the wall.

“What do you want us to be?” He whispers, pecking your cheek tenderly.

You don’t reply, tugging his collar to make him lean down, connecting both of your lips.

“Just want you,” You mumble after breaking apart the kiss.

“Yeah? You’ll get me later,” He chuckles, pulling his cigarette in to inhale another breath.

You almost choke on your saliva, gulping as you realised what he just said.

“But for real,” He laughs at your flustered expression, “Be my girlfriend?”

You nod your head, pulling him in for another kiss.

-

You and Jungkook should have definitely not left the dinner this early considering it was literally your celebratory dinner, but the both of you simply would have gone crazy if you did so.



“Kook, close the door,” You laugh through a kiss as Jungkook hums, mindlessly shutting the front door to his apartment with his foot.

“Fuck, been waiting to do this since forever,” He mumbles, as he trails kisses down your neck, sucking on a spot that makes you grip his arms a little tighter.

The apartment is filled with your soft moans, Jungkook kissing your neck passionately as he groans.

“Up,” He taps your butt, signalling for you to jump up.

You do so, and he carries you into the room, gently placing you on his bed.

You giggle as he peppers more kisses down, before halting to remove his shirt, his torso now full on display for you to see.

You use this opportunity to remove your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear, as Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Pretty girl,” He sighs, kissing down to your cleavage, as you giggle, playing with his hair and hands roaming his back.

“Kiss me,” You whine, tapping his shoulders to get him to move his attention back to your lips.

“So needy, huh?” He chuckles, “Gonna make this good for you, yeah? Give you your reward?”

He unclasps your bra, gazing intently at your boobs as he pinches one of your nipples, making you arch your back, a whine emitting from your mouth.

He trails down to your lower body, teeth clasping the band of your underwear as he pulls it down, the sight itself sends a rush of heat to your pussy.

“Jungkook,” Another whine, he shushes you quickly, nose nudging against your clit as you sigh in relief.

His tongue makes contact with your clit, sucking on it as you mewl, sensations overwhelming you already. His fingers begin to trace over your slit, gathering the slick as he slowly pushed two fingers in.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, how is my cock suppose to fit in here later, huh?” He laughs, breath fanning on your pussy as you shudder.

“I can,” You tell him through moans, hands finding its way through his hair as you tug on it.

“Mm, gonna stretch you out,”

His fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you, as a choked moan escapes your mouth, chanting his name. Sensations overwhelm you as he continues to finger you, sucking on your clit, you’re so close.

“Mmhm- No!” Just as you’re about to climax, Jungkook quickly removes his fingers, your hole clenches, as you whine at the empty feeling.

Jungkook steps back a little, removing his pants as his cock springs up, slapping his stomach.

This time, you immediately take initiative, sitting up from the bed as you take his cock in your hand, slowly stroking it, making Jungkook hiss above you.

You peer up to him, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue to trace over the slit on his head, Jungkook groans at the sight.

“Good girl,” He praises you, as you sink your mouth further down, taking most of his cock, while you continue to stroke the rest.

You bob your head up and down, as Jungkook’s moans grow louder, his hands grip onto your head, slightly pushing your head down as you let out a strangled moan.

“Fuck, fuck enough,” He quickly pulls you back, angry cock red and throbbing as you smile, looking up at him.

“I was about to cum, you don’t know what you do to me,” He sighs, wiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth.

You climb back onto the bed as Jungkook follows you, crawling on top of you as he locks his lips with yours again.

“Ready?” He breaks the kiss, tapping the head of his cock at your entrance. You quickly nod, wrapping your legs around his waist.

A sigh comes from both your mouths as Jungkook sinks in, the stretch bringing you more pleasure than pain.

“You can move,” Jungkook nods, beginning to pick up a rhythm as he pushed his cock in and out of you, moans growing louder.

“Hnggh please” Another strangled moan emits your mouth, as Jungkook chuckles from above you.

“Please what baby? Use your words,” He whispers into your ear, sucking on the skin right below it, making you arch your back further, inching closer to him.

“Faster, please, need you,” You pant, hands roaming his back as he picks up his thrusts, watching as you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

“Yeah? Like that?” You nod, moaning as your nails drag along his broad and muscular back, pleasure overwhelming you.

“Right there! Don’t stop please,” You sob, tightening your grip on his back as he grunts above you, cock slamming into your pussy.

Your thighs begin to shake around his waist as you climax, Jungkook’s cum spurting into your pussy as he lets out a guttural moan.

Quickly pulling out, he kisses you, pushing the strand of hair away from your face. You pant, smiling into the kiss as the both of you catch your breath.

“Good?” He hums, pecking your forehead affectionately.

“Mm, best reward ever,”

taglist: @sparklingocean @idkjustlovingbts @moonstar127 @babybella337 @ane102 @synnfulqt

[kaciidubs]

Surprise! | Felix x Reader

❣ In collaboration with @onmykneesforchanlix ❣

❣ Summary: Felix was a cat shifter, living most of his days in his cat form due to unfortunate living circumstances. That is, until you found him one rainy night and his life changed for the better. Years later, he decides that it's time to finally reveal himself to you fully. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 5.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Cat Shifter! Felix, slight Dom! Reader, Pussy Drunk! Felix, smut, slight angst [Felix's life before Reader], fluff, first time as a semi-couple, feminization [Felix wears Reader's clothes], unprotected sex, decryphilia, creampie, begging, praise, desperate/needy love making ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Felix is referred to as kitten, Lix, Lixie, fluffy ending ❣ ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

Felix’s early life wasn’t much to brag about; growing up in an era where animal shifters were being seen less as a threat and more as an equal was a blessing in disguise, but that didn’t mean he had it easy. There was still discrimination, prejudice, and general unease, and even as a cat shifter he wasn’t free from any of them; losing his part time job due to “staff overflow” and his tenant kicking him and multiple shifter families out of their apartment building due to “remodeling”.

His roommates at the time were able to fall back on family members or other friends, but he was by himself in the city, and he didn’t feel comfortable asking them if they could house him until he got back on his feet. So, he tried getting by on his own until he could find new roommates or someone willing to host shifters.

He was able to stay a few nights at a hostel, applying to any place that had a hiring sign while earning his keep by helping the owner of the hostel - however, he wasn’t able to keep it that way for long. Which is how he found himself surviving in his cat form, easier to maintain throughout the night as he slept in worn out boxes off the side of the road.

Then, one rainy night changed his life for the better - the night he met you.

You, who was walking the dark, rainy streets with a broken umbrella and your face tucked as far into your jacket as it could go.

You, who stopped in your tracks when you saw him sleeping in that small, water damaged cardboard box just outside of an alleyway.

You, who scooped him up and tucked him into the free space of your jacket before taking him back to your apartment with the promise of taking care of him for the night.

Well, what started out as one night turned into two years and counting by your side as your loving little orange cat, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way - save for a few key things. The major one being he had yet to reveal his human form to you while you were home.

He figured that you had a feeling about him not being only a cat, from the way he participated in your morning routines with his own tasks - you doing your hair was him grooming himself, you brushing your teeth was him having a dental treat until you left so he could shift and actually brush his teeth - to the way you still had an unopened 16-count of cat food because he preferred eating the dinner you had over any form of gourmet tuna.

But, you never mentioned anything about it, you never even made a sly passing comment despite the way he’d participate in your one-sided conversations with too many coincidental meows or glares whenever you said something he didn’t agree with.

You even wrote out the alphabet on a sheet of paper so he could “pick his own name”, using his small paws to walk over the letters ‘F’ ‘E’ ‘L’ ‘I’ ‘X’ before rubbing his face against the side of yours with a content purr.

All of these events culminated into this moment now, where he was currently sitting on your bed in his human form freshly showered and naked as the day he was born; the pajama shirt you wore that night laid out in front of him.

Tonight was the night Felix was going to show you the real him, the him he hid from you out of fear that you wouldn’t want to keep him around anymore, fear that he’d go from your kitty ‘Lixie’ to just another alley cat.

His plan was simple, really; dress in your clothes to give him the comfort and confidence he needed and surprise you once you got back from work, apologize for not letting you know the night you brought him home, and hope that the kindness you've shown him for the past two years would continue further.

Orange tail swishing behind him with anticipation, he wasted no time in pulling the pink shirt onto his arms before slipping it over his head, quickly engulfing himself in your warm scent and soft cotton.

Smoothing out the top, his soft brown eyes landed on the piece of clothing he forgot he even took out, his human ears turning red at the sight of your white panties laying bright against the blanket.

He didn’t have any clothes at your place, usually reserving himself the grace of either wandering around nude or donning one of your hoodies and a pair of underwear he’d make sure to wash himself before you got home; and this plan had the added point of him wearing something to cover his exposed lower half.

Hence, the white lace panties with pink bows that he was sliding up his pale legs and tucking himself into, finishing off his look for the night.

Perfect.

Sneaking a peek at himself in the mirror near your closet, he felt a low rumble in his chest - the shirt slightly swamped him and the panties’ waistband sat comfortably below his tail to not cause irritation or annoyance, this couldn’t have worked out more perfectly in his favor.

A soft yawn tumbled from his lips and he glanced at the small digital clock you kept on the nightstand; a little less than an hour and a half until you came home, which meant he had more than enough time for a quick nap before his plan would go into effect.

Stretching his arms to the sky with an even bigger yawn, he allowed himself to curl up against your sheets and close his heavy eyelids - content purrs escaping him with each exhale.

“Lixie! I’m home!”

His ears perked up at your voice and he stretched with a big yawn, slowly rolling himself into a sitting position and tiredly rubbing his eye until his brain finally kicked into gear; you were home. 

A rush of excitement ran through him as he scrambled onto his knees, hands seated in his lap as he stared at the door in anticipation - his heart thumping hard in his chest. 

What were you going to say? Would you still like him as a human? What if he wasn’t pretty enough in his human form? 

His ears drooped as he deflated, small hands now anxiously playing with the hem of the shirt that was supposed to be his comfort. He heard you shuffle around the adjacent room, mentally going through the routine he’d seen you do time and time again; keys in dish, shoes at the door, work bag on the chair in the living room. 

“Lixie? Where are you, kitten?” 

The closer your footsteps grew toward the bedroom door, the more he wished he could shrink in on himself - it wasn't too late to change back, was it? No, no, he wanted you to see him - he wanted to show you the real him.

“Lixie?”

Where was he? He usually greeted you at the door, meowing loudly at you while rubbing himself at your legs. Maybe he was still asleep, curled up on his favourite place, your pillows? 

You quietly made your way to the bedroom, your hands resting on the handle for a second before opening the door.

 Nothing could’ve prepared you for what happened next.

“Lix-” Your eyes met a familiar warm brown set, but that wasn’t what stopped you in your tracks. 

No, it was the fact that said eyes belonged to a blond man currently sitting in the middle of your bed, dressed in your sleep shirt and nothing else - at least, that’s what you could assume from the sight of his bare thighs. 

Maybe you should have screamed - should have shouted curses and threatened to call the police but all you could do was blink at the man. Opening your mouth to say something, the words get stuck in your throat, making you swallow thickly while your eyes lingered on the man in front of you. 

Felix felt small under your gaze, shy even. He nervously pulled the shirt to cover his legs when he noticed you staring at his bare thighs. 

Maybe this wasn't a good idea, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything - any words or sounds dying before they even reached his throat. His eyes met yours when he looked up, and he noticed a small smile forming on your lips. 

“Lixie?” You questioned quietly.

He felt his ears twitch at the sound of his name, catching the notes of joy adding sunlight to the word; his tail swishing in response. You seemed to like his reaction because you took a small step away from the doorway before rushing toward where he was sitting.

“Oh... my little Lixie! Look at you- I can’t believe it- My cute little kitten is a shifter!” 

Felix felt himself blush at the awe in your tone, his hands tightening against the hem of your shirt.

“Lixie,” you hummed as you ran your fingers through his soft blond hair, “you’re so pretty.” 

Felix’s lips curled up into a smile, and when your fingers found that spot behind his ears - scratching just the way he liked - he couldn’t help but start purring. 

The first word to leave his lips is your name - his voice a bit raspy since he hadn't spoken properly in months.

“Why didn't you show yourself sooner, kitty?” You cooed, tracing your fingertips down the side of his face and stopping at the soft curve of his chin, smiling when he leaned into your hold. 

“I…” He swallowed thickly, nearly shocking himself at how deep his voice was, “I wanted to but... I didn't think you'd like me anymore…” He couldn't help but hold your gaze, addicted to the soft sparkle in your irises as you studied him.

“Why would you think that, hm? You're my Lixie,” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes never leaving his, “You’re my pretty kitty…” You gave him a reassuring smile, your thumbs running along his reddened cheeks. 

With the way you looked at him with so much love and care, he couldn’t help but blush - his cheeks dusted in a pretty pink.

“Look at you,” a soft laugh fell from your lips, and he suddenly wondered what it would be like to feel them against his own, “wearing my shirt? Were you trying to turn yourself into a gift for me?” 

A hot flush ran down his back, goosebumps rising on his skin as he remembered what exactly he's wearing. 

“N-Not just your shirt…” He stammered, gaze falling in embarrassment from the guilty admission.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, and instead of answering you, Felix leaned back and lifted up the shirt - not all the way, but just enough to reveal the panties he stole out of your drawer. 

You sucked in a breath at the sight, pink little bows decorating the white lace he was wearing. It was your favourite pair, Felix knew that. 

That's why he chose them. 

They were a bit small for him, but he didn't mind - he just hoped that you were okay with it too.

“Lix…” His name left you in a breathless sigh, a hand falling from his cheek to graze up his thigh, but no further than that. “You really turned yourself into a gift for me, huh?” 

You knew how the lace fit your body, but the sight of the white patterns hugging his slim hips and slightly bulging over his dick had your brain whirring. You didn't miss the soft whimper that fell from his lips, or the way his legs shifted toward your touch.

Felix bit down on his lip when he felt your fingertips ghosting over his inner thigh, barely touching him. He spread his legs a bit, hoping you’d get the hint and touch him - but you didn't, your fingers running up his thigh and stopping before they reached the lace, then down again.

“You know... it really makes me sad you didn’t shift for me sooner.” His eyes widened slightly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout until you continued, “We could’ve had so much fun way sooner than this.” There was a sharp glint in your eye that made him whine, his hands tugging the shirt higher up his stomach.

“I’m... sorry,” he mumbled, trying to hide his face with the shirt until you stopped him. 

“It's okay Lix,” your hands came up to tug on his shirt, “why don’t you take this off for me, hm?” 

He nodded, wasting no time in pulling it over his head and throwing it next to the bed. 

“So pretty,” you whispered, brushing his hair out of his face.

Your fingers grazed against his ears in the process and he moaned, the melodic sound melting into a purr that you practically felt vibrating from his chest. 

“They’re still sensitive even in your human form…” Humming, you caressed your thumb along the base, “Aren’t you just full of surprises?” 

“P-Please,” he whimpered, his hands itching to reach out to you from where they were planted on the bed, “it feels so... good.”

“Feels good, yeah? I can make you feel even better... if you let me.” You moved your hand from his ears to his chest, gently pushing him back to lay on the bed. 

Your fingers brushed over his nipple and he gasped at the sudden rush coursing through his body. 

Eyes flickering down from his eyes to his lips, you leaned in closer with a soft whisper just barely grazing the pink skin, “Kiss me, kitten.”

Felix lifted his head so fast he was shocked he didn’t accidentally headbutt you as your lips met. 

It was different, so different from the way you would kiss the top of his head when he’s curled in your arms in his cat form, yet the softness remained the same. He didn’t think it could get any better until he felt your lips part, and when your thumb and finger pinched his nipple, he gasped and your tongue was ghosting against his own.

He let his tongue run along yours, humming lowly in the back of his throat. His cock was already hard and straining against the lace; the tip leaking pre cum, forming a small wet patch. 

It hurt, but Felix didn’t know how to ask you for more. He tugged on your shirt, wanting you closer.

You couldn’t help but laugh against his lips, pulling back just enough so that your noses remained touching. “Eager little kitten, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, baby.” 

Pecking his lips one last time, you sat up - kneeling just above his lap - and pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it where the pajama shirt laid. 

Felix’s eyes widened - he’d seen you in your underwear before, sure, but taking in your body in his human form had fireworks going off in his head. You looked soft - he knew you was soft - but he needed to feel you with his hands, his mouth, anything you allowed.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, staring at every bit of exposed skin, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. 

You laughed shyly, trying to cover yourself with your hands, “Don’t look at me like that. You've seen me in underwear before - hell, you’ve even seen me naked!" 

Felix felt the blush spreading on his face - it was true, he had seen you naked, too many times to count, but that was when he was in his cat form; sitting on the counter in the bathroom when you took a shower or a bath, never leaving you out of sight.

“I-I know! But-” This time, he allowed his hands to touch your forearms, trailing up the skin to your wrists, then the backs of your hands, “I... I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to see you like this- touch you like this.” He kept his touch strictly on your hands, resting over the bra that kept the sight of his dreams hidden away. “I want... C-Can I see more? Please, I wanna see you.”

“You could've had me like this months ago, kitten.” Your tone was smug, but you still reached behind you to unclasp your bra - not taking it off just yet, “It’s okay, you can touch me.” Your hands reached for his as you guided them to your bra straps. "Help me take this off?" 

Felix swallowed thickly, his hands shaking a bit from how nervous he was. He didn't want to fuck this up. This might be his only chance.

His fingers grazed the straps and he immediately decided he hates the texture - too rough, no wonder why you were always rolling your shoulders once it was off. Eyebrows furrowing at the offensive clothing, he slowly pulled them down the curves of your shoulders and had to physically fight back the moan growing from the way the bra went slack - your breasts threatening to spill from the cups already. 

“Keep going, Lixie, take it all the way off for me.”

Felix pulled it down completely before throwing it aside, his hand itching to touch you. Reaching out hesitantly, he lets a finger run over the soft flesh of your bare breasts; goosebumps spreading over your skin as you send him a reassuring smile and a nod, giving him the okay to continue. 

He doesn’t waste any more time cupping your breasts with his hands, squeezing them carefully.

If he thought kneading his own blankets was heaven, then this was damn near nirvana; your breasts resting in the palms of his hands - or at least, what he could fit - while the rest squished up with each flex of his hands. 

“You-You’re so soft... oh, fuck, you’re so soft.” 

You shivered at the curse falling from his angelic lips - the thought of your kitten, your Lixie, so smitten over what he’d seen time and time again making your core throb. “Softer than that blanket I spent so much money on for you?” You teased, laughing at the pout that overtook his lips. 

“That’s different! You... You feel better than any blanket or any pillow I've ever laid on.”

“You’re so cute, I’m just teasing you.” Taking his hands away from you, you pinned them down on the mattress near his head, leaning over him with a teasing grin.

It took all the strength Felix had to not cum right then and there; your breasts were right in front of his face, giving him the chance to kiss the soft flesh before circling his tongue around one of your nipples.

You moaned at the sudden attack, your hands tightening around his wrists while his mouth toyed with the hardening bud. Without having to be told, he released your tit with a wet pop before latching onto the second, making a sound you couldn’t tell was a moan or a purr. 

“Lixie.” You moaned, and if Felix's eyes weren’t shut you would’ve seen them roll to the back of his head. You barely touched him and he was already at his peak, wondering how it was even possible to feel anything better than this.

He bucked his hips up, moaning loudly at the delicious friction and the waves of pleasure running through his body. His eyes were closed tightly, mouth agape with breathless pants rolling past his lips. 

He was so close, he could almost taste the orgasm on his tongue but he fought against it. He didn't want to cum like this, not yet. 

"Please," he whimpered, not sure what he was even asking for.

“Keep your hands up here, Lixie, okay?” You slowly sat up, trying not to laugh at the needy whine that settled in his throat when your chest no longer surrounded his head. “Keep them up there or else I’ll stop, understand?” 

He nodded senselessly, eyes glossy and chest flushed pink; he nearly forgot how to breathe when he saw your hands go to your jeans, popping the button open and sliding the zipper down. He nearly cried when you shifted off of him, only for you to shush him with a tut of your tongue. 

“Gotta take my pants off first Lixie, I told you I can make you feel even better, and I will.”

You turned away from him, pulling your jeans teasingly slow over the curve of your ass before pulling them off completely - repeating the same process with your underwear. 

Felix couldn't help but stare at your ass, almost drooling at the sight. His hands moved to reach out to touch you but he stopped himself before you could notice, repositioning them next to his head in hopes of going unnoticed.

Leaving your clothes in a puddle by your feet, you quickly climbed your way back onto the bed and over Felix’s lap - not sitting down just yet. “You know, as much as I said you missed out on showing me the real you before, I can’t wait to see what I’ve been missing out on too.” You danced your fingers up his stomach and to his chest teasingly, watching as his hands fisted the sheets underneath him. “I’ll take good care of you, kitten.” 

Felix watched as you lowered yourself so settle in his lap and a sharp moan escaped him,  the warmth of your pussy settling over the thin lace he still had on.

He fought the urge to look down between your bodies, wanting to take a peek but instead looking up at you, trying to grind his hips up against yours. “Please... I- I can’t.. I want,” he stuttered out, “it hurts.”

“Use your words Lixie,” you hummed, a light roll of your hips nearly sending him to the stars, “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, but you have to use your words, kitten.”

“Please, I want... no, need you to touch me,” he breathed “‘m so hard it hurts." He thrusted his hips up, groaning softly, “Fuck, you feel so good,” eyes fluttering shut with another thrust, he bites back a whimper, “please, I’ll be good for you... just touch me.”

A soft smile graced your lips, “That’s my good kitty.” Lifting yourself onto your knees, you wasted no time in tugging your lace panties down his hips and the swell of his ass, “Such a dirty kitty, making a mess in my panties, huh?” 

All he could do was moan wantonly, his dick finally free from the tight confines as he eagerly kicked them down his legs and off the bed.

You leaned back over him, pressing your lips to his in a slow kiss and letting your thumb run over his slit to collect the pre cum. Felix moaned into the kiss, parting his lips for you to slip your tongue in. Your tongues touch as Felix cupped your face in his hands, not wanting to part not even for oxygen - he doesn't want to even think about the kiss ending, pouring all of his emotions into it as if it were the last thing he could do in his human form.

Your free hand covered one of his own, squeezing it gently as you parted from the kiss. “I’ll let you slide for now,” you whispered, your lips still brushing against his, “but next time I'll have to punish you.” 

Felix felt you shift above him, but before he can register anything, the warmth of your walls are enveloping the head of his dick. "O-Oh! Oh fuck!"

You placed your hands on his chest and sank down on him completely, hissing a bit at the stretch. “Fuck kitten, you feel so good,” moaning softly, you wiggled your hips, “feel so full.” 

He fisted the sheets underneath him, throwing his head back, mouth agape in a silent moan. “S-So warm," he gasped as you lifted your hips up and sank down on him again, your walls clenching around him. Suddenly, his hands flew to your hips to stop you from moving, “Please wait, fuck- I'm not gonna last long.” Your eyes met and he sucked in a shaky breath, “Shit, you feel so perfect around me. Better than what I’ve imagined…”

“You”ve thought about fucking me?” Your light giggling made your pussy flutter around him and he nearly sobs at the feeling. “What a naughty little kitten I have - makes me wonder what else goes on in that pretty head of yours.” With your hands settled on his chest, you slowly rocked your hips against his, moaning at the way his dick massaged your insides. “Let me show you what the real thing is really like, are you ready for that, Lixie?”

“Oh god, please show me,” he whined, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. 

Moans spilled from his lips as you moved your hips teasingly slow, your fingertips digging into his skin, leaving behind small crescent marks. 

Overwhelmed from the pleasure, his moans quickly melted into whimpers and pleas. He doesn't hold back, making you smirk, “Let it all out kitten. Am I making you feel good?”

He nodded his head frantically, unable to stop the moans tumbling from his kiss bruised lips. 

“Good boy, such a good boy, Felix.” 

He didn't even have the chance to react to the sound of his full name falling from your lips when you rose slowly before dropping back down. You were riding him, the person he loved so much he thought his heart would never beat the same - he felt tears begin to swell in his eyes as his hands followed your pace.

“Kitten? Hey, are you alright?” Your voice filled with worry as you immediately stilled your hips, your hands reaching up to gently caress his cheeks, “am I hurting you?” Concern grew in the pit of your stomach as you watched a single tear roll down his cheek, reacting quickly to catch it with your thumb. 

Felix shook his head, his gaze avoiding yours.

“Lixie, I need you to answer me - do you need me to stop?” 

His watery eyes snapped to your own as he choked back a sob, “N-No! Don’t- Please- I... I feel so good, I can’t- I love it- I-I love yo-” 

Soft hiccups broke his sentence into rambled parts, and it all suddenly clicked; he was crying from pleasure, crying for you. 

“Oh... My sweet kitten…” You cooed softly, catching more stray tears with a swipe of your thumb before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you too, do you wanna keep going?”

More tears spilled from his eyes at your words and loving actions - you loved him back, he couldn't be happier than he was in this moment. 

His favourite human loves him the way he loves you. 

“Yes please... make love to me... please.” He whispered, hands wiping away the last few tears that were still building in his eyes. He gave you a watery smile, eyes scrunching up and face exuding a brightness you never thought was possible on a person. 

He looked so pretty under you, cheeks tinted pink and eyes looking up at you, so full of trust, so full of love.

Your heart fluttered and you had to stop yourself from smothering him with butterfly kisses around his beautiful face - he still needed you, and you were going to do what you promised you would; take care of your kitten. 

Taking his hands from your hips, you threaded your fingers with his before pinning them at the sides of his head, shifting your position slightly. “Don’t worry about anything else, Lixie - let go of everything and focus on me.” With his nod of approval, you started to ride him once more, the new change in angle letting his dick caress the front of your pussy.

“O-Oh my god,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back as you moved your hips, grinding them down. “‘s so good, please don't stop,” Felix slurred his words, so lost in the pleasure - he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven. 

You picked up the pace and leaned forward, letting your noses touch before connecting your lips in a short, sweet kiss.

“You're so good Lixie,” you panted against his lips, squeezing his hands tighter, “fill me up so well, so perfect, my perfect kitten.” 

He moaned at your words, squeezing his eyes to focus on keeping his orgasm at bay - he couldn’t let it end so soon, he wouldn’t. 

“Are you close, baby?” You mused, keeping the pace of your hips with ease, your lips brushing against his ear. Felix’s cock was hitting your g-spot with every move of your hips now and you could feel your own orgasm slowly approaching. 

“I-I can hold it!! Wanna be a good kitten for you, want you to cum first,” he pouted, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. He freed his hands from your grasp, moving them to hold your hips as he continued to thrust into you. You lightly grazed your teeth against his earlobe, nibbling on it before pressing a kiss to his neck.

“P-Please,” He whined, tilting his head to the side to grant you more access to his skin, “I-I’m gonna- I want you-” He felt like his brain was on overdrive, every nerve ending burning at every point your bodies were connected. His right hand sandwiched between your bodies to where his cock was currently drilling into you, fingers frantically searching for what he knew would help you come before him. 

You panted against his jaw, nipping at the pale skin lightly, “To the left baby, m-move your hand to the left.” 

Obeying your direction, he shifted his wrist and his fingers landed on a soft, slippery nub that made your pussy clench. 

“F-Fuck! There, right there baby!”

His fingers moved experimentally over the nub, circling around it and you moaned in response against his jaw, "You're doing so well kitten, making me feel so good." 

Felix continued to circle his fingers against your clit, drinking in the moans that spilled from your lips. He was determined to make you come first, moving his fingers a bit faster, “Good like this?” 

Nodding hastily, you connected your lips to his neck again and sucked on the skin, the desire to mark him swelling inside of you - you wanted to mark him as yours.

Following the change in tide, you were now the one wantonly moaning against his skin, riding him that much faster and a bit more sloppier. “‘S so good, F-Felix- it’s so good!” 

His heart skipped a beat and he quickened his pace, digging his feet into the mattress to fuck into you faster. “C-Come for me? Please- I need you to come for me, c-come with me-” He was so hard it hurt, his stomach clenching and heaving with each ragged breath - he felt himself tear up as he begged whatever higher power was listening to let you come first, please let you come first.

“F-Fuck Felix, right there!” You moaned out, quivering above him,  “G-Gonna come!”

Your orgasm rapidly approached as you held onto him, his frantic thrusts bouncing your body against his own. His fingers dug into your skin, and he hoped that they were going to leave a bruise - a marker of his desires finally coming true. You bit down on his neck, tongue running soothingly over the marks left on his skin.

It only took a handful of thrusts before you were shaking above him, your moans growing in volume as you wrangled your hand free from his to tangle in his hair. “Lixie! Felix! I'm c- oh god, I'm coming!" 

The grip you had on his dick grew tighter and he groaned, pace faltering as you came around him with a loud cry barely muffled against his neck. 

“T-Tight- S-So tight, I can’t-" He was getting dizzy, both hands now coming to wrap behind your back and hold you as close as he possibly can. “Gonna c-come, wanna f-fill you, please? L-Let me- s-so warm, please, please!”

It took a second for you to register his words, head dizzy from your orgasm, before you nodded frantically, "O-Of course kitten, go ahead - breed me.” You whisper and it's all Felix needed to hear. 

With one more solid thrust he emptied himself inside you with a loud cry, his hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm. His glazed over eyes found yours and you smiled at each other, noses bumping as you leaned in for a bliss-filled kiss. 

Your lips touched softly in a short peck - soft and sweet and all you both ever needed after an event like that.

“Good kitty,” you giggled, gently scratching your nails against his scalp, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate against your chest. “Let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?” 

Felix couldn’t help but whine, not ready to let you go as he squeezed his arms around your sweaty body, “Can... Can we stay like this a little longer? I like holding you...like this.” 

You beamed at the blush taking over his face and nodded, “Of course, Lixie - hold me as long as you want, it’s only fair for bow often I’ve held you.” Tucking your face into the warmth of his neck, you murmured, “From now on, you can hold me as much as you want, my sweet kitten.”

❣ This one's been in the works for a while, but I'm so honored to have done this collab with my lovely Miu! I hope you enjoyed reading and by all means, leave some nice words for her because she's genuinely an amazing writer! Love you lots @onmykneesforchanlix ❣ ❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

[pennylanewrites]

[used to be my girl] levi ackerman x f!reader

inspired by used to be my girl by the last shadow puppets

cw + what to expect: cheating, alcohol consumption, smoking, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, levi is mean and a tease, marking, missionary and lotus position

find part two here

you loved your partner, erwin. you really did, but god, he was so…vanilla. and you never came with him.

only when you were thinking of your ex instead.

you hated it so much, but sex with levi was so good. he knew exactly where to touch you, kiss you, what position made you scream his name. and you needed to feel that way again so, so bad.

but you and levi were long over. he broke up with you when you became a squad leader, never really explaining why. but you knew well he was just scared. levi had lost too many people in his life, that any new ones he just pushed away. you never tried reasoning with him, you knew it would fall on deaf ears anyway.

and then, you and erwin smith became much, much closer than before. all those late nights in his office, discussing tactics and helping him with mountains of paperwork brought you closer, and closer, until you were sharing secret kisses in dim-lit hallways, until he changed the squad positions to have you close to him, until he fell down on one knee two years later and asked you to marry him when everything was over. of course you said yes, and you were beaming and showing off that tiny diamond on your finger, until everything went to shit.

hange had warned you that erwin is in love with his job. you just never knew it would get so bad, to the point he came to sleep in your shared bed once every two weeks, only pecked your lips in a rush when you asked, only fucked you once in a full moon.

you were still in love with levi ackerman. and now you were standing at the annual gala for the survey corps, in a long blue gown, staring your ex boyfriend up and down. your table was filled with wine glasses, and someone would think you had company, but you were all alone since the start of the event. levi was listening to hange babbling about whatever, his pink lips in contact with a whiskey glass every few seconds.

god, you could eat him up right then and there.

what am i thinking? you brought your cold palm against your burning cheek, opting to look for your fiancé instead. he was nowhere to be found, of course. a gala basically in his honour and he was gone.

your eyes fell on levi again. he was wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled up and black pants. so simple, but so, delicious.

the glass almost fell from your hand when he locked eyes with you.

oh god, he’s coming. make a turn, make a turn, don’t-

“hey, levi.” you gave a half embrace and kissed his cheek, your cheap lipstick leaving a faint red mark right on his cheekbone.

“you look beautiful.” was all he said. “and drunk.”

“i’m not drunk,” you scoffed, “this is my second drink.”

“what, in the last ten minutes?” he motioned to the table and your cheeks turned bright red. “where’s your husband?” his tongue was bitter with sarcasm.

“he’s not my husband. and i don’t know.” you mumbled, embarrassed. what kind of fiancée doesn’t know where her partner is?

“want to get some air?” you only nodded, following him out of the main hall and to a bench overlooking the walls. it was a starry night, the moon was full and you felt like a teenager again. just like you were when you and levi first met.

you watched intently as his hand reached in his pocket for a packet of slim cigarettes. he sighed when he realised his lighter was nowhere to be found, but you came quickly to his rescue. opening your purse, you took out a silver lighter, the initials L.A engraved on the side in tiny letters. levi was surprised you still had that, his eyes never leaving that stupid rock on your ring finger as he let you light his cigarette. he offered you one as well, now his turn to light it for you. your eyes met his. were you wrong to think they were full of longing? was he wrong to think yours were filled with regret?

“don’t tell him i’m smoking.”

“dear husband doesn’t allow it?” you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“he just hates it.”

“it’s a good thing he doesn’t kiss you then. he won’t smell it on your breath.” you turned your head surprised. how did he know?

“everyone knows, y/n.” he replied without you even having to ask. you sighed, staring at the burning cigarette in your hand.

“great. the survey corps’ walking anecdote, ladies and gentlemen.” you bowed to an invisible audience, leaning back on the bench with a frustrated sigh.

“what are you even doing with him?”

“it’s none of your business.”

“it is when i hear you moaning in the supply closet every night.” you let out a surprised gasp. how did he say these things so freely?

“the only person masturbating around cleaning products could be you, levi.”

“then who’s that moaning my name in there? every single night. at 2 o’clock sharp.” his voice came out in a whisper, lips touching your ear as he spoke. shivers ran down your spine and your eyes were burning with guilty tears.

“sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

“sounds like erwin can’t make you cum.”

“shut up!” you got up, looking out in the distance. two familiar arms snaked around your waist, locking against your lower stomach. wet lips came in contact with your neck, and you wanted to pull away so bad. to leave, run to your fiancé and kiss him.

but you couldn’t. and you didn’t.

because it was levi you were in love with.

“levi,” you whimpered and he swore his knees would give right then and there.

“shh. let me have this, let you have this.” he was kissing that spot right behind your ear, his hands roaming your body over your dress.

“someone could see us, levi.” you warned him.

“bet it would turn you on.” fuck, he knew what he was doing. “my room. ten minutes.”

levi went around the building and you went back into the main hall, falling right into erwin’s arms.

“i’ve been looking all over for you.” he scanned your face with worried eyes. “you look…”

“i can feel a migraine starting, erwin. i was just out getting some air.”

“okay, go get some sleep, alright? i’ll be in soon.” your heart skipped a beat.

“no, have fun tonight. you deserve it.” you reached up and kissed his lips softly, tears brimming your eyes.

you practically sprinted to levi’s room, head spinning and heart pounding like crazy. you knocked on the door and levi opened in mere seconds, as if he was standing right behind it waiting for you.

“you took too long.” he took you in his embrace, letting his forehead touch yours as you shut the door behind you.

“i ran into erwin.” you bit your bottom lip when levi showed the slightest hint of annoyance. he pushed you against the door, protecting the back of your head with his hand.

“yeah? did you tell him you’re gonna fuck your ex?”

“n-no.”

“you should have. because he’ll take one look at you tomorrow and he’s going to know.” his lips were attached on your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. god, you missed his touch. you missed needing him.

“levi,”

“what?” his voice didn’t show, but he was worried. scared you’ll regret this and leave, run off to erwin and tell him everything.

“kiss me, please.” you didn’t have to ask a second time, because his lips were slamming against yours, and he was so, so hungry. he lowered his body and his hands were around your thighs. you let him lift you up, wrapping your legs around his torso, letting you take him into the bedroom. two candles lit the room up, and you were hit with memories as soon as he dropped you on the mattress.

“take that off.” he instructed and you began unzipping your dress, but he stopped you. “i meant that.” he pointed at your finger. you didn’t give it a second thought, placing the ring in your purse and throwing it on the floor. “now that.” he pointed at your dress as he undressed himself too. you were too focused on the tricks the flame played on his chiselled abs, his strong veiny arms and muscular thighs.

god, he looked like a greek statue.

“can’t even do that yourself?” he took matters into his own hands, slowly taking your dress off before pushing you down again. he fell on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips and leaned down to kiss you. your lips were locked in place perfectly, like the last two pieces of a puzzle you couldn’t finish.

you took your bra off and let it fall on the floor with the rest of your clothes. levi’s lips latched onto your nipple, his fingers rolling the other one. you arched your back off the bed, moaning softly in his ear. his erection hit against your panties and suddenly you were going crazy.

you needed him. now, and forever. you rolled your hips against him as he kissed your body hungrily, watched him as he slid down until his teeth caught the bow on your underwear. he took them off as quick as he could.

“tell me, does he do this?” he asked, leaving a kiss on your clit. god, you were embarrassingly wet.

“he does…” you looked away, but levi reached your jaw with his hand and made you stare at him.

“but?”

“he doesn’t know where to touch me.” you mumbled.

“does he touch you here?” you felt the pads of his fingers come in contact with the top of your clit. you nodded no. “here?” he asked, slowly pulling his fingers down, to that spot that made your stomach tighten.

“no.”

“that idiot doesn’t know what he’s missing then.” was the last thing levi said before his tongue slipped into your folds. your hand fell on his head, as if out of instinct, and you pulled on his perfectly styled hair, guiding him right where you wanted him. a row of fuck, shit, oh god came out of your mouth. how long has it been since you felt this way? your fingers didn’t do even half of what levi was doing to you right now.

“levi, i’m coming.” you warned and he looked up at you as he added two fingers to the mixture, entering your slick cunt. you couldn’t look away from those mesmerising gray eyes as you moaned in pleasure and that knot in your stomach came undone. levi slowed down until he was off your pussy completely, now coming up to you again.

“has he ever made you this wet?” he kissed you, making you taste your juices mixed with his saliva.

“never.” you were telling the truth. levi was the only man who could ever do this to you. he was like magic.

“can i fuck you?”

“yes, please.” you whined when levi slapped his cock against your clit and you looked up at him through eyelashes painted black, silently begging for him to fuck you. he didn’t wait any longer to enter your cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. he adjusted your legs around his ass and leaned down, chests touching, to kiss you.

“you can’t even kiss me?” he teased. how could you? you were a moaning mess, getting louder with every harsh, slow thrust. even though erwin was much bigger than him, levi filled you up perfectly in every way.

he was made for you.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sucking on his neck and those pretty collarbones to muffle your moan. leaning back, you admired the purple and red marks before smiling at him. levi could melt right then and there.

he picked up the pace, fucking you fast into the mattress.

“please, please, please!”

“what, coming again?” he chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eye. “how long has it been, y/n? since someone made you come?”

“too-too long.” you breathed out.

“two years? two and a half?” you knew what he was doing. trying to make you admit he was the last man to make you orgasm.

“oh god, i’m coming!” your walls clenched around his dick, making him moan in pleasure. “levi, levi hold me.”

“i’m holding you.”

“more.” you needed his arms around you. you needed to become one again.

levi pulled you up and into his lap and you wrapped your legs around his torso, arms roaming his back, scratching it. he held you tight, slamming you up and down his cock until you were coming again, and again…

“missed this pussy,” he whined when he felt you clenching again, “missed your claws on my back.”

“give me all of it, levi.” you whispered in his ear and he lifted you up, hips bucking into the back of your thighs as he reached that spot he knew drove you mad. he was close, you could tell. oh god, you didn’t want this to end.

“fuck, i’m gonna-”

“inside me.” you didn’t let him finish. you wanted to feel all of him so bad.

“does erwin cum inside?”

“he doesn’t. he thinks it’s filthy.”

“good. this pussy’s…” his sentence was cut short with a groan and you felt a new, familiar warmth inside you, as he brought you down to fit all of his length, “all mine.” he whispered.

out of breath, you stared at each other. you didn’t want him to pull out. it would all become too real. but your juices combined were making a mess on his lap, so you slowly got up, heading for the bathroom. levi was hot on your heels, accepting the towel you took out for him. you looked at him through the mirror with a sad smile and he returned a serious gaze.

“don’t say this was a mistake.” he blurted out when you opened your mouth to speak. “don’t say anything.” he spun you around and hugged you tight. you could feel his warm breath on your neck, his fingers leaving white marks where he held you, his toes touching yours.

“i have to go.” your voice was shaky. tears fell down your cheeks and dropped on levi’s back, startling him. he pushed you softly and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“stay.”

“i can’t. i’m sorry.” you kissed his cheek and left. levi didn’t come into the bedroom. he waited for you to get dressed, and only when he heard the front door did he go into the room.

he spotted your bag, forgotten on the floor. with a sigh he took it, sat on the bed and opened it. lipstick, his lighter, cigarettes. your engagement ring. he took it in his hand, inspecting it against the light. he leaned to open the top nightstand drawer, a red slick wooden box the only thing inside it. he opened it, comparing the two rings.

“mine’s better. cheap piece of shit.”

[leeflms]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

minors DNI.

warnings: NSFW, FEM reader, Unprotected sex, Creampie, Praise kink

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Childe who loves to spoil you to death with gifts. Because of his status as a Harbinger, he's often gone for quite a long time, probably off to another nation. That's why he sends you gifts and letters.

Childe who loves teasing you in public. And by teasing, that means hand grazing over your thigh and whispering naughty things to your ear. He just can't help it, not when you look so cute with a flustered expression as he tells you how he plans on fucking you later.

Childe who's extremely possessive of you and gets easily jealous. One time he saw you talking to one of his subordinates, laughing and getting touchy with them. The Harbinger approached the two of you, sneaking a hand around your waist and pulling you close to him. He gives his subordinates a small smile, probably a sign for them to kindly fuck off and go away.

Childe who loves it whenever you say his name. Whether it be 'Ajax', 'Childe', or 'Tartaglia', as long as it's you calling his name, he'll start smiling widely.

He loves it even more when you're whimpering and moaning out his name while he fucks you senseless. Oh, he's so mean for pounding into your tight cunt, hips moving at a fast pace as he tries to chase his climax, turning you into a sobbing mess, all the while he whispers sweet nothings to you.

"Yeah.. That's it.. F-Fuckk, my pretty girl is taking me so well.."

Childe who promised he'd be gentle but ends up putting you in a mating press, your legs pressed to your chest, his cock was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot and you could feel you were about to cum.

Childe who gets so needy and whiny when he's about to cum. He starts fucking you hard, leaning to you and nuzzling his face into your neck. "Holy shit— Fuck— Please," He breathed out. Childe doesn't even have any idea what he's saying anymore, he's too fucked out to think properly.

"Please, baby— Please.. let me cum inside you…" He begged.

Childe who has so much stamina, he doesn't just stop at 1 round. You don't know how many times you've come, you're all messed up, there's cum seeping out of your wet pussy. Before you even know it, Childe pushes back in his already hard cock, earning a loud moan from you.

"Just one more, yeah? You're doing so good for me.." Childe cooed, planting a kiss on your forehead as he started to thrust into you slowly. He's said that ten times now. 'One more round' would always end up with him cumming inside you for the 9th time now.

[darlingshane]

cheers to new traditions

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Though you were the same age, grew up in the same street and went to the same school, you and Michael lived in two different worlds. It isn't until you're both full-grown adults that get the chance to know each other better. It's on Christmas day. He's miserable, you're miserable, and both decide to ditch dinner with your respective families to make your own new tradition.

CW: 18+, smut, some angst, making out, vaginal sex, smoking, smoking weed, drinking alcohol, eating food, childhood neighbors, pet names, reader has tattoos and piercings.

Word Count: 7k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

Michael must get out of the house to get some air before resorting to something more radical to deal with these people. He’s saving that for later, or for when he has no other choice but to. By that time everyone will be so buzzed and no one would be able to tell the difference from him being high or not.

It’s been an hour since guests arrived. The main show hasn’t even started yet, and he’s crawling up the walls already. So, he heads out to have a smoke in the solitude of the cold and an empty street full of cars from people coming over for the holidays to visit their families.

It’s still daylight, but the downcast weather is as grey as his mood.

By the stoop of the house, he lights up a cigarette and looks down at the snow collecting on the pavement's cracks as he takes his first drag. A noise ahead, a door closing, pulls his stare up from the ground to see someone coming out of the neighbors’ house across the street.

It’s you, clad in a dark, short coat with a hood pulled over your head. You turn the corner of the house to stop by the bare tree on the side yard. You seem to have the same idea as him, cause shortly after you lean against the brick wall, you produce a lighter and smoke from your coat’s pocket.

He has to make an effort to remember your name. It takes him a moment cause you two were never friends. Though you're the same age, grew up in the same street, rode the same school bus for many years, and had a couple of classes together, Michael and you lived in two different worlds. He was the popular one, the jock who always got into trouble but hardly ever saw any consequences. And you were a band nerd, who also took pictures for the school paper, and never had more than two close friends. You were basically the definition of what the cool kids considered to be a loser. However, you never felt anything as such. You knew what you liked and stuck to your close-knit group. Whatever other people thought about you and your friends was of little importance.

Through the fog in his mind he fishes a memory of that time you two were paired to work on a project for history class. It was an interesting week to say the least. He did as little as possible and though you were really apathetic about it too, you two managed to get a passing grade.

But there's one thing that juggles his memory to recall every letter of your name and that is realizing that you were, and still are, one of Tiffany's closest friends. She and Richie didn't get together until a couple of years ago, and during that time, Michael and you never even stumble upon the other cause they’ve kept their circles apart.

Michael stares at you for a long minute before deciding to cross to the other side of the street to say hi. Partly cause he's curious to know how your life turned out, and partly cause he'd rather do anything else than go back inside.

You're taking a drag of your smoke when his feet come to a stop right in front of you. The first thing he notices up close it’s that there's no cigarette between your lips. The familiar smell tells him it's a joint. It's held in a hand wearing a fingerless glove that shows chipped nail polish and an array of small tattoos adoring your knuckles.

“What? Do I have something in my face?” a cloud of smoke collides with the icy air as it emerges out of your mouth.

“No, I just… I grew up across the street. I'm-”

“Carmy. Berzatto. I know you,” you interrupt dryly.

“Mikey actually,” he scoffs.

“What do you want, Berzatto?”

He shrugs, tucking his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

“I just wanted to say hi. I don't know if you remember this, but we used to go to school together.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You take another drag and look to the side dismissively.

Michael can take a hint, and that hint tells him that you're not exactly in the mood to talk to him or anyone else for that matter.

He's not sure why he needed to though. If it was just a means to escape his own misery or just because he saw something in you that reminded him of himself.

He starts walking away, mumbling a barely audible “have a nice day,” but your voice stops him in his tracks.

“Do you want a hit?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees your hand holding up the joint in his direction. His lips pull up at the corners before accepting your offering.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he picks it up from your fingers and takes a long puff.

“What are you running from, Berzatto?” you question as he fills his lungs with the intoxicating aroma of your weed.

“I don't know. This fucking day I guess.”

“So you still live at home.” You state, knowing pretty well that he in fact does.

“Something like that. What gave it away?”

You shrug, “woman's intuition I guess. I saw Tate Weems the other day and had the same rugged look of — I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life. Also, Tiff told me.”

“So first-hand information. No intuition at all. But you're not comparing me to Weems, right?”

“What? You two aren't buddies anymore?”

“I was never buddies with that scumbag. You have to know that.”

And hopes that you do know it, because he'd never associated himself with someone like that. Despite the fact they were in the same team and often had to tolerate the guy for the sake of the game, he'd never call Tate a friend. Especially after what he did to two girls back in school. One of them being one of your closest friends growing up.

“Hm, so you know.”

“I know,” he gently nods, handing your joint back so you can take a hit.

“Heard you beat the shit out of him a few years ago when he came into your shop and that you almost went to jail.”

Michael starts puzzling the pieces together in his mind realizing that you know more than you first led on.

“Tiff again?” His brow raises.

“Richie told me, actually.” You point out before bringing the joint to your lips.

“You know they're having dinner at my place,” his head tilts to the side to point at his house, “you could come in and say hi.”

“I know. They told me.”

“Hm, it looks like they've told you a lot of things, why are you pretending you don’t know who I am?”

“Force of habit. I didn’t want to give you the impression that I’ve ever thought about you.”

“You didn’t want to give me the impression? Why? Have you ever thought about me?” His head leans to the side as one corner of his lips quirks up.

“Not really. Not in the way that you’re implying. If I ever thought of you, it was just me wondering where you ended up.”

“And what did you imagine I'd end up doing?”

“I don't know… Something with sports was my best bet. You seemed really into it back then. Thought you'd go pro.”

“I loved playing, I just wasn't anything stellar. You'd know if you ever went to any of our games.”

“I think I went to a couple. But we'd only hang out in the parking lot and just get blazed.” Drawing a smile you pass the joint to Michael again. “Just like this.”

“I used to get high after the game, so you and me… Not that different.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So, where did you end up, sweetheart?”

“Take a guess.”

“Shit, I have no idea… I think I saw you around with a camera taking pictures for the school paper, yeah? I could see you doing that or something related to art.”

“I still take pictures as a hobby. But you're not too far off, I'm a tattoo artist.”

“That's neat. You’ll have to show me your work, maybe I'll let you do my next tattoo.”

“I'm pretty good,” you boast, “but yeah, you should come by the shop and see for yourself first.”

“I will,” he lifts the cig up to his mouth.

Talking to you really puts him in a better mood, and vice versa. But it's still not enough for him to rush back home. Despite the cold and him forgetting to put on a jacket, he'd rather freeze his balls off than return to the cursed circus that is the Berzatto household.

“So, what are you running from?” He parrots the same question you asked him a few minutes ago.

You draw a wry smile before answering.

“Same as you, I suppose. This crazy day. We shouldn't have to be forced to socialize with people once a year in the name of tradition. It's like when you were a kid and your mom invited all the kids from your class to your birthday party, even the ones you hate cause she didn't want anyone to be left out.”

“I hear you, sweetheart.”

“It'd be great if we could trade places. If I went to yours, and you went to mine, do you think they'd notice?”

Your quip makes him laugh and hang his head down for a beat. Then, he looks over his shoulder for a moment to gaze at the Berzatto house.

“Here's a better idea… let's get in the car, ditch these assholes, and have dinner somewhere else. Just you and me.” He suggests.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“You're crazy, Berzatto. We can't just bolt. It's Christmas.”

“Why not? We're two fucking adults, you know what I mean?” His tone turns on a dime from a taciturn speech to pep talk aided with hand movements. “We can do whatever we want. Would you rather spend the day having fun with a semi-stranger like me or be miserable with people you've known your whole life?”

Pressing your teeth on your bottom lip, you consider for a few seconds.

“When you put it like that… What the hell. Let's go.”

“Attagirl.”

You follow Michael closely toward his car, but he realizes that the keys are in the house and in order to leave he'd have to go inside to get them. But that isn't going to stop you.

Your car is just at the end of the street, and conveniently you have everything you need in your coat's pockets, including your car keys, so you take yours instead.

The whole thing is crazy… He's nuts and so are you for following along. But it gives you a rush to quickly steer the car out of the neighborhood before anyone notices. They will, eventually. It's early to tell, there's too many people in the house to say where everyone is at all times. Maybe at actual dinner time they'll notice you're missing but for now, you're just going to enjoy the ride and see where it takes you.

No matter the consequences, this is already better than having to endure another Christmas hearing the same tired arguments with your family, and holding yourself back from punching your cousin's boyfriend for his relentless sexist remarks.

Driving aimlessly for a good fifteen minutes across the city, you suggest a few places but end up settling your destination at The Beef. You've walked by the place a handful of times, but you never stepped inside until now.

There, Michael trades his thermal shirt for a blue, short sleeve t-shirt with the shop's logo, giving you a chance to see the ink adorning his arms. You decide to make pizza from scratch and while you let the dough rise for over an hour, he tells you the story about each of his tattoos.

Music plays in the background to fill the awkward silences while you have a drink and eat some snacks to make time until Michael deems the dough ready to turn into a pizza. Which prompts you to ask several questions about food and the restaurant. You can tell he's quite in his element and it really suits him.

Once he's given shape to the dough, you help him pick and spread an array of toppings on your pizza. His elbow nudges yours as he effortlessly sprinkles a heap of mozzarella on top.

As he puts it on the oven, you sit on the counter and nurse your soda.

“It suits you, you know? This, being a cook,” you tell him as he grabs his drink.

“Yeah?” the corners of his lips automatically quirk up.

“Yeah, I'm kind of impressed, to be honest. I could never whip out pizza dough from scratch that easily. I tried once, but I just don't have the patience for cooking it I guess.”

“Hm, thank you. So, tattooing butts for hours doesn't require patience?”

You snort. “I haven't tattooed that many butts, but it requires more focus than patience.”

“You'll have to show me sometime.”

“How to tattoo asses? Yeah, I could even tattoo yours if you want to.” You say casually, sizing the way his eyebrows raise at your unexpected proposal.

“What would you put on my ass if you could?”

“I don't know… Turn around,” your pointer finger draws a circle in the air, “I need to see the canvas first.”

He plays along and takes a spin around to show you his backside. The kitchen suddenly feels hotter than when you first entered. You draw your eyes down to survey, critically of course, the small, firm shape of his butt, hugged by a pair of jeans.

“Do you want me to pull my pants down?” He smirks, glancing over his shoulder.

“No, I’m good,” you laugh, “you can turn around. I think I got a pretty good idea of what I’d do.”

“Yeah?” he tilts the beer bottle in his hand over his lips.

“Uh-hm, I'd simply put – bite me – one word on each cheek, you know? I've pitched that idea to a few people, but they never went for it.”

“Maybe it’s cause I’m high as fuck, but I’d like that.”

“Yeah, you should mull it over later when it wears off. My rule of thumb is never get a tattoo when you’re high or drunk. You’d be surprised by the atrocities I had to cover up over the years because of that.”

“I bet,” he takes another sip of his beer before pointing at the line art inked on your fingers. “You got more than those?”

“Yeah, I have a few more.” But they’re all covered by a cozy sweater and black jeans.

“Can I see them?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “they’re in very compromising places. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll show you later.”

“Alright, it’s on, sweetheart,” he bites his lower lip, and takes that as a challenge.

You’re surprised how easy it feels talking to him. You can't recall the last time you clicked with someone that organically fast. Though you were aware of certain aspects of his life, you only knew each other in passing. You always had this idea of him that he was kind of a douche for what you heard about him. And you should know better by now than to pass judgment on people from rumors and gossip.

If you had known he was this delightful, you'd try harder to get to know him earlier.

Before the pizza is out of the oven your phone finally goes off to have someone wondering where the hell you are.

Michael watches you, amused, as you lie your ass off over the phone. You tell your brother you had to leave to take Tiffany to the hospital cause her water broke and Richie was wasted, and you were the only one sober and close enough to drive her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself for using your friend like that,” Michael scoffs, “you better pray nobody sees Tiff the rest of the night.”

“They won't. You should work on your excuse for when you get the inevitable call.”

Michael pulls out the phone from his pocket to see there are a couple of texts from Sugar and another one from Richie.

His expression changes quickly when his smile fades away.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, everything's fine.” He sighs, texting Richie back, almost regretting his decision of ditching Christmas dinner, solely for the fact of leaving Carmy and Nat to deal with hurricane Donna. Nonetheless, they've grown up and don't need Michael to hold their hand anymore.

They'll be okay, he convinces himself.

Despite having second thoughts for just a moment, he really doesn't feel like going back home. He's enjoying your company more than he expected, and he's excited to see where the night leads.

While you devour the delicious pizza you've made together, the conversation flows nicely, jumping from topic to topic, getting a good sense of the other. Though you both seem different at first glance, as you dig deeper into his thoughts, it feels like looking into a mirror. You and Michael have trouble fostering good romantic relationships, neither of you have the best track record. You use humor to mask that unbearable pain you carry, and tend to be really impulsive. Being here is proof of that last one. But you do share some good traits too… you're both also undeniably loyal to your friends, wildly independent, and have no problem speaking your mind, which can be troubling sometimes.

There's a certain ease in the way he looks at you that makes your heart soar in ways you haven't felt in s long time. Perhaps it’s the weed talking, but there’s definitely a raw electricity bubbling surrounding the table you’re sitting at. And the longer you stay together, the more you feel like doing something you might regret.

This is not how you saw today going, but it's certainly a welcome change from the tired Christmas traditions and family matters. Which might sound selfish but neither you nor Michael would be in the first place if you had healthier relationships with your relatives.

“I don't think pizza ever tasted this good,” you say after finishing your last slice.

“You should send your compliments to the chef.”

“I could even kiss him,” you blurt out without thinking, and watch his eyes grow wide from across the table. “Do you think he'd like that?”

“I uh… I think he'd love that.” Michael licks his lips, drawing a grin.

There's a moment of silence as you stare at the other, capturing that sizzling electricity that's daring you to taste his mouth.

You lift your glass of water and take a sip first before leaning over the table to follow that impulse.

“My compliments to the chef,” you murmur under a breath an inch away from his mouth. The hairs of his beard prick your skin before fully pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. They're warm and soft, just like you’ve been imagining for the past hour.

He desperately wants to dive deeper just as much as you do, but after a couple of seconds you manage to hold that urge and pull back.

“Hm, thanks, sweetheart,” he utters when you settle your back against the chair and offers his beer bottle up in your direction. “Cheers to new traditions.”

“Cheers,” you clink your glass with his bottle and take a sip together of your respective drinks.

“Should we maybe start cleaning up?” you clear your throat, and gesture at the table, almost spoiling the moment.

“Is that really what you want?” His brow playfully lifts.

“No, that’s not what I want.”

“Why would you suggest that, then?”

“I guess I’m just trying to give you an out. We had a perfect evening. If we keep going down this path, we might do something that could potentially ruin it. Unless that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want an out and I don’t think there’s nothing we can do to ruin this.”

“No? Then what do you wanna do, Michael Berzatto?”

His eyes pin you a look that almost sets you ablaze. “You. I wanna do you.”

“Yeah?” Given that you started this, you could let him do the next move, but you’d be damned to wait like an idiot for him to make the move after having him say that with such conviction. So, you stand up, walk around the table to straddle his lap. His hands are drawn automatically to your hips, inviting you to get comfortable.

Under a very dim light of the orange neon sign illuminating his face, Michael mirrors your smile as you cup his face in your hands, leaning closer to capture his lips once more, with feeling. He's quick to respond to the urgency of your tongue, delving past the front lines of your teeth without hesitation. It takes you a moment to grasp a good rhythm together but once you're there, nothing can't stop the fervent desire of that unholy union.

It's hot and messy and utterly intoxicating.

You hold tight to his neck while he digs his fingers at the curve of your hips, pulling you flush against his center, letting you feel the hardness of his bulge growing beneath thick denim layers.

“Hm,” his breath catches, and he breaks the kiss to ask. “Have I earned seeing your tattoos?”

You scoff, wiping the corner of your mouth with a thumb.

“You definitely have.”

This time, before you can take off your sweater, he's the one gripping the hem and sliding it up your torso, pulling it over your head, exposing your bra. Your skin is kept warm under his palms when he places them on your sides while he admires the collection of tattoos on your arms, chest that spread to your back. There's one in particular that sits between your breasts that catches his eye. It's partially covered by your bra, but he can clearly see a snake coiled around a dagger. He uses his point finger to pull down gently to see it fully.

He draws the snake softly with his fingertip, making your skin buzz before noticing the twin studs of your piercings adorning your erected nipples, poking behind the delicate fabric of your bra.

Pressing his teeth to his lip, he lets his wandering fingers invite themselves to touch one of your pierced nipples over the cotton layer.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Your core twitches at the way his voice husks paired with the pressure of his thumb playing with the barbell attachment.

“Yeah, it feels real good,” you sigh in bliss as he tugs the cup of your bra to uncover your tit and feel your skin across the pad of his thumb.

“Does it feel better with piercings?”

“Definitely,” you wink at him.

“You're so damn sexy,” he breathes, locking his lust-drown eyes with yours as he removes your bra completely.

Baring your teeth, you respond by sliding one of your hands down to his crotch to caress the hard bulge straining the blue denim. You curl your fingers around it, watching him struggle to bury a grunt in his throat. He curses a “fuck” instead and forces himself to inhale deeply.

You observe his mouth up close as his tongue juts out to wet his lips before dipping his head to kiss your pointed peak.

It sends chills down your spine to have the tip of his tongue playfully swirling around the piercing before sucking your nipple between his lips. Your core is most pleased and excited, and you can feel it in the way your walls slick.

He's fully grown in your fist when you feel an intermittent buzz near your hand.

“Is your dick vibrating?”

“It's my phone,” he scoffs, releasing your nipple.

“Oh. Right.”

“There,” he quickly pulls his device from his pocket and tosses it on the table without looking at it.

It keeps buzzing while he dives to mouth to put neck, tickling your skin with his beard.

You try to focus again, but his phone keeps going off.

“Maybe you should pick it up.” You suggest.

Michael pulls his head back with a sigh and checks it up just in case. There are a handful of texts and calls from Richie and Nat, asking him to come back home because Donna got into a car accident. They say specifically that she drove the car into the house which it's something he has trouble imagining. That's borderline, even for Donna.

As quick as it started, it ends. His buzz is killed again by his own mother.

He doesn't give you the details right away, all he asks is for you to drive him back. It's during that drive that he tries to explain it with the little details he knows.

The siren lights are quickly on sight as soon as you enter the street. There’s an ambulance and a police car park in front of the Berzatto house when you drop him off.

He rushes out of the car without so much as a goodbye, which you completely understand. There are neighbors scattered all over the street, watching the shitshow. You have to drive a couple streets over to find a decent parking stop. Then you walk back to your parents’ house just as they are serving dessert. They aren’t creeping in the streets like the rest, but they still peek out the window, trying to find out what’s going on.

You climb upstairs to your old room. Sitting in the dark, you look out the window, having front row tickets to witness a tow truck coming into the scene to pull out the car that’s been shoved right through the facade. A couple of police officers go around taking statements from the Berzattos and friends, and some of the closest neighbors. They ring the bell at your house at some point too. The ambulance drives away with Donna and Natalie in the back.

People go back into their homes as the commotion slowly clears out. You see Tiff leaving with Richie, and at the end there’s only Michael, his brother, and one of their uncles you can’t name left in there, assessing the aftermath of the crash.

They stay there, guarding the house until the Faks come back to board up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

By the time you leave your parents’ house, they’re still working tirelessly under the freezing veil of the night to cover that up.

You don’t see him, and he doesn’t see you leave either.

It's a shame the night had to end like that. You're not a stranger to bizarre situations, but Donna Berzatto driving her car into the house was beyond perplexing.

When you finally pull up in the parking space in your building's garage you notice there's a zippo lighter with a Red Sox’s logo on the side left on the passenger seat that you don't recognize. It must have fallen from Michael's pocket. So, you keep it safe to give it to maybe use it as an excuse to show up sometime by his joint and give it back.

A couple of days pass, and you are still holding onto that lighter, unable to build up the courage to return it.

You had a moment together. A very beautiful, sexy moment you won't ever forget but is it enough to justify you showing up out of the blue? Perhaps. You've never doubted yourself like this before. And it takes you until the day before New Year's Eve to finally push yourself to stop by The Beef.

Richie is up front, ringing customers. His blue eyes widen when he sees you waiting in line.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“It's good to see you too, jagoff. Is that how you greet all your customers?” you scoff.

“No, sorry. I just wasn't expecting you.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything, right?”

“Right. So it doesn't have anything to do with you stealing Mikey on Christmas.”

“I don't know what he's told you, but it was his idea. Anyway, is he around? He left something in my car.”

“What? His dignity?”

“Shut up, Richard. Is he around or not?” you glance over the service window to the kitchen but can't quite tell if he's there or not.

“He's out back having a smoke. Go to the left, bend the corner past the parking lot. Find the red fence by the trash cans,” he gestures directions with a hand.

“Got it.”

You head out, following Richie's directions toward the back door of The Beef to find him there, pacing the length of the fence with a cigarette in his hand.

“Hey, Berzatto.”

As Michael turns around his face beams up quickly in surprise.

“Oh, hey. Shit, I didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, sorry. I thought about calling, but I didn't get your number and with everything you got going on… I didn’t wanna bother you. Here,” you offer the zippo in his direction, “you left it in my car.”

“Appreciate it,” he half smiles, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to call too. I got your number from Richie. But uh… I guess I felt weird using it. I didn't think you'd wanna see me again after what happened.”

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“That we are.”

You both softly laugh for a second.

“How’s everything? Is Donna okay?”

“That’s a loaded question. But considering what happened and what it could’ve been… everyone’s fine. And Donna… She's Donna.” He resigns, sinking his head between his shoulders.

“What about you?”

“I uh… I’ve been staying with Richie for a couple of days until I find a place. I just needed to get out of there, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

He throws the butt of his cigarette to the ground and puts it off with the toe of his shoe.

“Did I ruin our moment the other night?”

You shake your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Michael. I had a great time with you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah? I had a great time too.”

“Hm… maybe we should finish what we started sometime if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, I… I’d love that, sweetheart,” he pauses for a moment to lick his lips before confessing. “For the sake of honesty, I should tell you that you left something here too.”

“What did I leave?”

“You should see for yourself.”

He beckons you to follow into the kitchen through the staff door and into his office. He closes the door and out of one of his drawers he pulls out your bra. Of course, you left that.

“Came here early the next day and found it on the floor.”

“God, I didn’t even notice. I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“We were high as fuck, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Well, thanks for keeping it safe I guess,” you shove it into your bag and clear your throat. “Be honest, would you have given it back if I hadn’t come here?”

“Huh?” he half laughs, “what do you think I am? Some kind of pervert that keeps trophies of their hookups?”

“No. I didn't say that. Just wondering.”

“You know… I wasn't sure if I was gonna see you again or not, but it wasn't my intention to keep it. I guess I was hoping I could give it back if that meant I could talk to you again.”

“That's a good answer.”

“So, about that thing we gotta finish…”

“Right. I’m free tonight if you wanna come over.”

“Straight to the point. I like that.”

“I’m not a fan of wasting time.”

“Yeah, yeah, me neither,” he scoffs. “We close at ten, I could be there before midnight.”

“Okay, give me your phone.”

He hands you his phone so you can call your number to have his registered on your phone and then put your address in his contacts.

“Text me if you change your mind. No hard feelings if you do, but don’t leave me waiting like an asshole, got it?” you give him a warning look as you hand the phone back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He places it on the desk, and before you can leave out the door, he grabs your waist and gently pushes your back against the wall.

You swallow as his lips lean closer to whisper in your ear. “I promise I won’t leave you hanging. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, sweetheart. It’s… it’s the only thing that’s kept me going these past few days.”

He kisses your cheek while your lips curve into a grin, saying back, “I haven't stopped thinking about you either.”

“That's good,” he hums at the curve of your neck, scratching your skin with the coarse hairs of his beard, inhaling your scent as you slip your fingers at the back of his nape.

One hand draws the curve of your ass, at the same time his lips part to leave a wet kiss on your neck before finding your lips. Using his tongue as bait, you fall easily into the alluring trap of his mouth. The kiss is slow but firm, offering you a taste of what's to come. You can feel his excitement in every swirl and the way he presses his body against yours, hoping there would be no layers in between.

You'd fuck him right here, right now if you could. But alas, everything good comes to an end and once more, The Beef is proven to be the worst place for a hookup when Richie knocks on the door, calling Michael's name.

Separating your lips, you both let out a tired sigh, pull yourselves together before opening the door.

Anxiously waiting for Michael to show up at the end of the day, you order some food, take a nice bath and pamper yourself for the occasion. You put on some makeup, do your hair and rummage the bottom drawer of your dresser where you keep your sexiest lingerie. You choose a lacy set of your favorite color that suits your body perfectly. On top of that, you put on a t-shirt dress with the logo of your favorite band.

Michael texts you when he’s on the way, and you go around the apartment one more time to make sure nothing is out of place.

It's close to midnight when Michael shows up with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“You look nice,” his mouth says nice, but his eyes are clearly devouring you from the dark hollow of his browns.

“Thank you. You clean up good too, Berzatto.” You can tell by his new outfit that doesn’t include a logo of the beef printing on his chest, and the fresh cologne smell that follows him into your space. He’s trimmed the edges of his beard too. The cut is cleaner below his cheeks that light up in the warmth of your home.

To get in the mood, you first settle at the breakfast bar where you two share a glass of wine and some light conversation about your day. A couple of sips is enough for you to lean in closer and kiss him. You don’t wanna be too loopy for this so you choose to make a move before emptying your glass. He doesn’t protest. He gladly welcomes you into invading his space, tasting the striking red spirit lingering in his tongue. It’s a gentle dance at first. Once it grows restless, there’s no way to stop it. You make your way into the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes on the floor until your back hits the mattress.

You didn’t think his eyes could turn darker, but they do. They’re like two apache tears recently collected from lava, almost iridescent at the glow of a night lamp nearby. He observes you from above, capturing the beauty of your body wrapped only in the skimpy lingerie you picked and all the inked art.

Michael bends forward, sans shirt, smoothing a palm at the curve of your ass protected by the shape of a dragon.

“Did you put these on for me, sweetheart?” one of his fingers playfully tugs the elastic of your panties on the side of your hip, making it snap against your skin.

Biting your lip, you nod, and beckon him to come closer.

He still has his jeans on when he settles between your legs, allowing you to feel how hard you’ve made him. It’s his time now to seize your mouth as if he was dying of drought. Your lips bruise at the unwavering frenzy of his kiss. His hips press and press firmer between your legs, stirring a longing of arousal to pool in the sheer fabric of your panties.

He pulls his head back, leaving you panting to pepper your chest with kisses instead. His beard leads the way, prickling your skin before his lips and teeth touch the surface. He pushes your bra down to expose your tits. Drawn to the metal adorning your peaks his tongue juts out to play with them.

You push one of your hands between your bodies to open his fly and measure his hardness on your hand. He adjusts his hips slightly up to make some room for you. His cock barely fits in the curl of your fingers when you pump his shaft down a few times over the texture of his underwear.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me come.” His breathing falters, turns into a grunt, when you tug his underwear down to feel his skin directly against your palm.

“It's okay if you do. I don't mind,” you run the tip of your tongue along his cupid's bow when he lifts his head to look at you.

“You don't, don't you?” one of his hands slots between your legs, cupping your pussy.

You shake your head. “I wanna make you come.”

“Yeah?” he purrs, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “Wanna make you come too, sweetheart.”

“Then take these off, babe.” You order, giving a small tug to the waistband of his jeans.

Michael rolls to the side and quickly slips the rest of his clothes off while you kneel on the mattress and reach to pick up a condom from the nightstand.

His hands are fast to rid you off your lingerie and invite his palms to touch every inch of your skin while you get into position. You end up on top of him, rolling the condom on his generous erection before sinking onto it. Even though your walls are tender and sick to welcome the stretch, it takes you a moment to slowly take him during that first descent. You have to adjust your hips twice before you can fully fill yourself with his cock.

His enthralling stare stays on you, capturing every gesture, every breath, every move you make that renders him speechless. His heart races when you brace a palm on his chest while you use your opposite hand to rub your clit. He's never seen or had anyone or anything more beautiful than you on top of him, fucking him like this. It's absolutely enticing to have someone like you confidently ride his body to the maximum pleasure.

All his blood and thought nicely flows down to his center and has to make an effort to distract himself from coming too soon. He uses that moment to carve every curve and landmark of your body in his hands. He inspects every tattoo, tracing them in his memory to keep himself from spilling inside you.

When you grow used to the position, you bend forward, tucking your arms against his chest. You capture his mouth, and keep your hips rocking steady, gradually faster, while he keeps his fingers glued to your ass, aiding your moves.

“God, you feel so good,” you hum softly into the kiss and his cock twitches inside you.

He groans into the kiss, mumbling a “fuck, you feel amazing, sweetheart”, and uses his grip on your ass to move you faster.

Taking the hint, you hold yourself up, straightening your posture. You clutch your palms to his broad chest firmly, while your hips pick up the pace. His body vibrates beneath you pounce after pounce. His fingers skin deep at your skin, the closer you ride him to the edge. You exert your body shamelessly bouncing on his dick until you reach that final line. He squirms and grunts and struggles to breathe while you tirelessly earn his orgasm. His cock jerks wildly inside you, prompting your own walls to tremble and collapse around him as you come undone.

Your body is still shaking when you slip him out of you and fall limp on top of his torso. His arms curl sweetly around your back, soothing your spine with a hand, as you place your head on his shoulder.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” his voice comes out breathless.

“Yeah, I’m good… that was… amazing.” You draw some air to keep your voice even. “You want me to get off you?”

“No, please. You don’t have to move, sweetheart, I got you.” he laughs softly, tightening his hold around you.“And yeah, that was… amazing. You’re amazing.” He repeats for lacking better words to express how good it felt to finally have you like this.

“Do you wanna repeat later?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he responds so quickly it makes you chuckle.

You finally lift your head to look at him and capture the stunning afterglow of his orgasm illuminating his face. He looks tired but utterly overjoyed

“Cheers to new traditions, yeah?”

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he says and you both touch your lips together once more.

[winniethewife]

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you (Moon Knight System x F!reader)

Warnings: Presumed!dead character, Reader romantically involved with Jake, Marc and Steven are featured, Mother!reader, Single mom, Angst,

Words: 634

She would never expected to have to do this alone. Just as she thought she wouldn’t do many other things alone. Witnessing her Daughters first steps, Her daughters first doctors appointment, the first time she got really sick, the first time she made a friend, her first move, all the way to London. She wasn’t expecting to be alone for her child’s first…everything. And now as she drives down the street she looks at the little girl with dark curls and brown eyes sitting in her booster seat as she looked out the window eagerly.

“Celesia?” She called her daughter’s name and the little girl looked over at her, the gaze in the rearview mirror reminded her so much of the girl’s father.

~

Jake Lockley was a rascal, but he loved her, and for some reason she loved him back. Despite the complications, Despite Marc living his life how he wished, taking her Jake wherever that was, with whoever that was. She had managed to form a friendship with Marc, which didn’t make it any easier, because she started to care a whole lot, a bad habit of hers. At some point they moved in together, a lovely thing to have with Jake, an interesting time with Marc. So when Marc teamed up with Bushman, she had advised against it. It seemed like a really bad idea, it wasn’t that she just wanted to keep Jake with her, it wasn’t the fact that she would have to find another roommate, she was genuinely worried about Marc. So of course when Marc had already been too stubborn and had shipped off, It was time to get a positive pregnancy test, because the universe finds that shit funny.

~

“Yes Mommy?” Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You ready for your first day at school?” She asked, trying to sound excited. The little girl nodded enthusiastically, giving her mom two thumbs up. Which she glanced in the mirror. “Remember baby, I can’t look at you when I’m driving so I need you to use your words.” She reminded the eager five year old.

“Right, Sorry Mommy. I am really excited! I can’t wait to make friends and learn things and-” The young girl continued to ramble, causing her mother to smile warmly. So many things reminded her of Jake, and Marc.

~

She sat tears streaming down her face as she read over the letter, all that was found of Marc Spector was some of his belongings in a bloodied temple in egypt, presumed dead, and seeing as everyone else on the expedition was dead that was a good assumption. But she was three months pregnant and currently trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do without her best friend and the father of her baby who, unfortunately in this case, inhabit the same body. She wasn’t sure how the hell she was supposed to do all this alone. Where to even start. But she didn’t have a choice now.

~

The whole day she kept checking her phone during work, just in case she missed a call from the school or a message from Celesia’s teacher, but there was nothing. At the end of the day she rushed to pick her up from school, and then they went to the store after. As the two of them puzzled over which kind of sweets to buy that week, she was surprised when a man ran into her.

“Oh, Sorry! That was entirely my fault there. So sorry.” The voice was too familiar, wrong accent, right voice.

“Jake?” She turned to look at the man, messy head of curls, Dark Brown eyes. The man looked confused. “Marc?’ She asked, maybe too hopeful.

“Sorry, Er I’m Steven, With a V.”

~

Masterlist

Taglist; : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

A/N: Middle of the night angst? Happens more often than you think.

[joocomics]

lights off: part two (18+)

read part one here

pairing: oh seungmin x fem!reader

genre: smut, slice of life wc: 4.8k

summary: a silly accident in the cafeteria brings you and seungmin together causing the memory of your one night stand to return after both of you spent weeks trying to forget about it

contains: sub!reader, college fuckboy!o.de, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (f!rec)

a/n: big thank you to my 🚀 anon for inspiring me to write this! more specifically with this ask about the hoodie <3

song rec: the boy is mine - ariana grande

“Are you good?”

You wince from the sudden voice startling you out of nowhere.

It’s Oh Seungmin. The realisation he just caught you scrubbing your white shirt like crazy as if it will make the stain disappear, in the middle of the cafeteria, brings you even bigger chills - chills of embarrassment; of frustration, anger even. From all people that could’ve walked by your table at this moment, why him?

You look down at your lap, composing yourself the best you can in order to answer calmly.

“I spilled coffee all over my shirt and now I will walk around like a stained loser the whole day. Yes, I’m fine.”

However, you sound far from fine, and Seungmin can’t help but smile amused at your frustrated scrunched lips.

He quickly changes his expression back to normal before you notice the grin, and drops his backpack on the chair across from you.

You’re too busy preparing all the dirty tissues for the trash so you miss the moment when he takes off his jacket, and his hoodie next. He holds it in his hands until you decide to look up at him.

“Here, put this on.”

His hands rub against his chest to prevent his white tee from creases, and you stare at him for a moment while he’s not paying attention.

After you stand up to put on the clothing a deja vu which you’re definitely not prepared for washes over you. You look at the front of the hoodie realising by the letters that it’s the same one he gave you the day you worked on your group project during Christmas break.

When you were at his place for the very first time, and when the power went off… and one thing led to another.

The memories make your head spin.

“I have to stop stealing your hoodie like this.” You attempt a joke, but you’re unsure if it is a successful one.

“Actually,” Seungmin’s voice comes out contemplative as he checks you out, but suddenly turns cheeky, “I think you wear it better.”

You shift your gaze at him just when somebody tries to walk past both of you. Seungmin takes a step closer in order to make space so the guy can continue his way which cuts the distance between you and him drastically. The cafeteria becomes crowded around this hour of the day.

Your eyes meet and you feel your stomach swirl from too many emotions clashing together. The familiar warmth and scent of the hoodie, the memories it holds from your time together during the heavy storm, the sudden closeness of your bodies. The new way he looks at you.

You step back, clearing your throat.

“Me and the other fifty girls you say this to.”

Seungmin laughs dryly, looking away in the distance.

“Anyways, I will return it soon.” Your fingers unintentionally tug at the sleeves. It’s like you create new habits every time you wear it. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs his jacket from the chair, hanging it over his arm. “You can keep it, looks good on you.”

You don’t know what more to say; if you should even say anything at all.

You haven’t seen each other after you had sex; not properly like a date, just in class. Not that you’re expecting one. Everyone knows Seungmin doesn’t date. You’re not a fool to think you’re going to be his first exception. But you haven’t even texted each other about anything that doesn’t revolve around your shared classes, and you start to find it odd.

A part of you expected him to ask you to come over at his place again, but he hasn’t done that yet. You keep overthinking it, which you shouldn’t, but you do regardless - mostly because you want to know the reason why. Didn’t he enjoy it? Was it bad, boring? It didn’t seem like it was, at least to you. You’re aware there are many girls who are more exciting, better, but still… why is he treating you differently than the rest? Isn’t that what fuckboys do? Messing around with as many girls as they can?

Maybe it’s better this way. You don’t need the trouble and the gossip that come inevitably with his reputation anyway.

“I have to go to class, but I hope to see you again soon.” Seungmin speaks and his brown eyes search for yours just like they did last time he was with you. “Not for the hoodie.”

Your lips curve in a shy smile and he turns around, heading towards the door. Just before he exits, a girl you’ve never seen before appears from somewhere, holding a drink in hand. She taps him on the shoulder, and he greets her with one of his popular charming smiles. They exchange a few words before walking out of the cafeteria together. You can’t read lips, but you have a slight idea of what they might have said to each other.

On Friday the only interaction you have with Seungmin during your shared class is a few stolen glances.

Since the group projects ended everyone is back to sitting on their usual seats, including you and him - you’re still on the second row meanwhile he returned to sit way back like he’s always preferred.

When the professor ends the lecture and the class is dismissed, you leave right away without looking in his direction, because you have a lunch date with your friend that you don’t want to be late for, but also because you don’t expect anything to be different today.

Except something changes.

As you wait for your order to arrive your phone lights up with a notification and you see his name appear on your screen.

13:21 [Oh Seungmin] I almost didn’t recognise you without my hoodie

13:21 [Y/N] I only wear it for emergencies

13:21 [Oh Seungmin] Haha

13:22 [Oh Seungmin] You look pretty in your outfit today

13:22 [Oh Seungmin] But I miss seeing my hoodie on your body already

13:23 [Y/N] Thank you :)

13:23 [Y/N] I will give it back to you soon

13:23 [Y/N] Today I forgot to take it with me, I was in a hurry

13:24 [Oh Seungmin] Will I see you wearing it one last time?

You’re not sure what to reply.

Your brain suddenly freezes and your thumbs hover over the keyboard not knowing which letters to press. The more seconds pass, the more you feel stupid for taking time to respond.

13:26 [Oh Seungmin] Or I can at least get a picture for saving you the embarrassment of walking around with a stained shirt 😉

16:55 [Y/N sends attachment]

17:00 [Oh Seungmin] You turn me on so fuckin’ bad

“It’s been a while. Thought you’ve decided to keep it for yourself.”

“I’m just busy with work and finals, but today I have some free time.” You explain then glance down at the porcelain cup between your palms. “One girl already accused me of stealing her boyfriend’s clothes so I would prefer to give it back to you as soon as possible.”

Seungmin takes a sip of his drink, not looking away from your ironic smile as you eventually shift your gaze somewhere behind his shoulder.

“Just say you wanted to see me.” His lips curl playfully when you immediately lock eyes with him after hearing his words. “You don’t have to make up stories.”

“I’m not lying. I’m sure you know who I’m talking about.”

He leans back in his chair, tapping with the tip of his fingers on the table.

“Hm, I don’t.” He admits after releasing a sigh, pretending to care that he’s having a hard time figuring out which girl could it be. “You know I don’t date.” He states and you nod.

You can’t help but feel like he uses the good opportunity to say this just as a reminder to you.

You chat for a while when he eventually leans closer looking directly into your eyes. He loves the glow your cheeks earn every time he succeeds to hold eye contact with you for more than one second.

“Do you want to come over?”

“Now?”

“Now.”

He repeats the word firmly, almost like a command, but you know he’s not that type of person. He just seems to be in need of something. More of your presence.

“I can’t wait any longer, Y/N.” Seungmin’s gaze lowers on your lips and he sees you swallow as a reaction to his confession.

He observes your features closely, feeling his skin run hot from the images they remind him of - when you let him kiss you everywhere he wanted that day.

He really tried not to think about what happened, about you, and he still is.

But he’s failing.

Every time he hooks up with another girl he realises that he’s not fulfilled as he used to be after she’s gone. His mind goes straight back to you reminding him how much better it could be.

The crazy part is that last time he invited a girl over his brain didn’t even wait for her to leave, it started distracting him in the middle of sex while he was inside her. With every new image of you that appeared in his head the girl underneath him became more and more unsatisfying; boring. She overreacted with her moans; the way she pulled his hair irritated him. He continued to notice little things like that until he flipped her over, shut his eyes and blocked out all the noise in order to focus on his thoughts about you so he can cum as soon as possible.

That’s when he realised it’s no use for him to keep denying it - he needs to feel you again. His body craves it.

It’s frustrating, because you’re not the type of girl who guys like him deserve. He knows you’re thinking he’s just like the rest, and you’re right.

But the desire is bigger than him.

“What are you waiting for?” You ask; your voice is low, because you’re flustered to show your neediness, but loud enough for Seungmin to hear it and smirk.

Walking into this living room again feels almost like a dream.

Seungmin doesn’t give you any time to look around and see if anything has changed since you were last here, because he immediately pins you against the wall.

He doesn’t want to waste a second more, and his lips smash against yours. They manage to move with gentleness despite his impatience that almost hypnotises you.

Your knees already go weak; it’s just one longer lasting kiss, but his mouth feels so good, experienced and soft. He pulls back as his hands roam around your hips area, then leans in back again.

This time the kiss is different; eager and rough. It quickly forces a muffled moan from your throat which makes Seungmin’s hands instantly react by gripping your ass.

Something switched on in him, and the situation starts to unfold much faster.

He swiftly picks you up without breaking the ongoing kiss and you hang arms over his shoulders while he walks towards the kitchen countertop. It’s the nearest surface he can place you on.

In a matter of seconds the shirt you were wearing flies to the ground with your bra getting your bare skin covered in goosebumps. Shivers go down your spine as Seungmin’s soft lips press against the side of your neck, nibbling on your flesh so hungrily you know you’re going to go home with a purple mark. His hands cup your boobs, massaging both of them as his tongue rubs against you, provoking sighs of bliss from your mouth.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you…” Seungmin speaks out for the first time since you got here. Kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. “About what happened between us.”

His mouth moves to your collarbone, then even lower, making you lean backwards. Your elbows touch the cold counter.

“Did I make you feel good, sweetheart?” He gives your nipple an open mouthed kiss and your lips part from the nice thrill.

“God—“ You moan as he sucks on it while holding your boob in his hand; he repeats the same thing one more time before circling around the nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Yeah… you did...”

He’s never cared about what girls think of the way he performs in bed. Nobody fucks me like you do. You’re the best I’ve ever had. It feels different with you. Those are things he’s heard many times before, because for some reason they think it’s something he needs to hear, but he doesn’t; he just needs to get laid.

“Has someone ever fucked you like that before?”

You start to sense the wetness between your thighs; the quick way it builds up while he speaks makes you feel a bit embarrassed, but more than that - greedy.

“You already know the answer to that.”

Your fingers reach for his belt and the boldness of it surprises both of you.

Seungmin smiles seductively after shooting a look at your hands that are now busy with undoing it eagerly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

His jeans are now unzipped and you take a peek at his slightly revealed boxers. The temptation to sneak your hand and palm his boner lingers in your mind.

Seungmin’s hands rest on your thighs as he tries to analyse your facial expressions one after another.

“No,” you admit the obvious. By overcoming your nerves you guide one hand to his crotch, inviting your fingers. “Nobody has ever fucked me like you before.”

You both look at each other as you slowly palm his clothed erection. Feeling how hard he is excites you so much to the point you shamelessly bite your lip without even realising it.

“You want it?” He asks and the change in his voice is so clear.

You squeeze him lightly and nod in response at the same time.

“Needy.” Seungmin notes, but what he actually means is that he likes how this new confidence looks on you.

He gets rid of his pants, but leaves his underwear on, wanting to see you deal with it yourself.

You tug the clothing down and his erection enters your vision. Wrapping your hand around him makes Seungmin’s head drop back on the instant before he humms from the feeling of your tightening grip.

This is the first time you do something on your own for his pleasure and your heart starts racing from excitement.

You twist your fist in a nice steady pace and not long after his forehead touches yours as you spread the precum from his flushed tip along the stiff length.

His body melts with each stroke you make, succumbing more and more to your touch.

You listen to his heavy breaths and as a reaction your hand increases the pace. You start stroking him quicker and the fact he takes just one second to moan from the new speed pleases you like nothing before has.

“Fuck…” He breathes out quickly, not opening his eyes. “You’re good.”

“Thank you,” you mewl and Seungmin releases a small airy chuckle before biting his lower lip. “Should I keep going?” Your hand slows down as you wait for an answer, and the thrill of it causes his smirk to fade. “Do you want more?”

Seungmin’s mind turns more foggy which makes it difficult for him to comprehend why these questions make his skin feel so hot; why do they sound so charming when you speak them out and look down at his dick.

Your eyes focus with anticipation on his parted lips that are seconds away from kissing you. He ends up not saying anything, because the fact he cannot stand the distance from your faces already proves enough.

He lets his dominant tongue dart in your mouth until the words escape him on their own.

“I want all of you,” he murmurs as you exhale into his mouth. The continuous gliding of your hand around him makes his stomach clench underneath his clothes, and suddenly he pulls back so you can get off the counter.

Once you remove the rest of your clothes, Seungmin takes you to the bedroom and watches you lay down on his bed. His gaze trails down your naked figure, and so does yours as he strips.

You don’t try to hide it anymore.

His hands travel up your thighs and the sides of your hips as he makes his way down your body. His tongue drags along your stomach before a few kisses under your belly button make you moan softly.

He would’ve enjoyed teasing you through your wet underwear if only he wasn’t so impatient right now. He quickly removes your pair of panties and dives into your pussy; something that crosses his mind too often when he sits on his couch.

The sudden contact makes you gasp, because it’s completely different in comparison to the gentle, slow touch of his lips from last time. You can feel his desire in the new way his mouth moves, pressing further into you; stimulating you fully to the point you already start to squirm.

“Oh, fuck—“ you bury fingers into his hair and hiss while tugging on a few strands the moment his soft lips suck on your clit. “Fuck, Seungmin…” His name slips weakly from your mouth that you can’t keep closed from too much panting.

One of his long fingers enters you smoothly and just as easy gets swallowed by your tight walls on the instant, which makes the sensation even better. You feel him push it back and forth in addition to his tongue that plays with your clit for a moment till he goes back to making out with your slick folds.

You’re not going to last long; the knot in your warm core begins to pulse.

“You just keep getting sweeter, baby.”

You whine as your lower body jerks up from the motions of his tongue; from his compliments that force your arousal to grow bigger. Your moans multiple once you realise it feels even more amazing when you sway your hips in circles, rubbing yourself against his dripping mouth.

“Seungmin… f-fuck, I’m so close—”

“Good, baby,” his soothing voice speaks again as he adjusts, “I want you to cum on my mouth again, okay?”

Seungmin’s arms hug your thighs, keeping them in control, and his flat tongue resumes to devouring your slit which gets you closer to your peak rapidly. You’ve spent many hours reminiscing of the unbelievable orgasm he gave you the day the power went off, but even all of that time of you replaying the moment over and over again couldn’t have prepared you for the wave that shoots right through you at this very second.

His strong grip prevents your legs from closing as Seungmin works his tongue on your sensitive spot, waiting for the thrill to cool down in your trembling body; your whimpers gradually fade in the air too.

“Good girl,” he places a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

You open your unfocused eyes just when he’s about to push back his middle finger, but along with his index one. You didn’t expect it so soon, but your pool of arousal welcomes them; it drips and fills the room with lewd squelching noise as he thrusts deeply a few times so you can hear yourself.

He doesn’t even have the ability to say something about this, he’s in awe as he pulls them out in a teasing speed, observing you clench desperately for more.

His sticky fingers grab a condom, then reach for your face as he settles between your legs, his knees dip in the mattress as he gets comfortable.

You part your lips excitedly, because you wanted to do this the moment he emptied you.

“Yeah, suck them, gorgeous.”

Seeing you get drunk on your own essence makes the lust in Seungmin’s heavy gaze glow brighter which results into you not wanting to look away. You taste his glistening digits with your lips closed around them before he tells you to spit in his palm.

Your saliva coats the protection, and at once, you feel the overwhelming feeling of Seungmin’s cock inside it, making you extra wide and warm. The light sweet pain comes through as he slides it in all the way, but goes away quickly when he begins to glide back and forth, letting out a deep groan from the immediate pleasure.

“Holy shit,” he cusses under his breath as he bottoms out, observing you take him with ease.

The delightful sense of relief starts to flow through your veins as his hips pick up the pace, growing the arousing rush in your core too.

Smacking sound from skin on skin echoes in the silent room, overpowering your quiet soft whimpers, because of the fast way Seungmin forces his body into moving quicker.

“God, you’re still so tight…”

He forgot how tight you actually feel, how drenched you become, and how easily you turn fucked out underneath him; or is he just too turned on and everything just seems much more intense than before?

His skin begins to sweat as his lower region simultaneously warms up from the amazing feeling that your connected bodies form. The heat grows rapidly, and he almost loses control, but pulls out in time.

Some of his hair falls into his vision as his fist cautiously strokes his cock that throbs so close to cumming.

You both pant aroused when he turns both your legs to one side, keeping them bent as he slides back into you.

This new angle turns your soft sounds into clear moaning with the way his tip pokes at your cervix even better.

“Do you realise how fuckin’ good you feel around me?” He catches your lightheaded gaze, but you can’t maintain the eye contact for long, because everything takes too much effort for you right now. “How hot you look when you take it…”

Your fingers grip the sheets as Seungmin continues his steady pace while holding onto your hip. He can feel your walls wrapping him more tightly and that provokes him into going for rushed stronger thrusts.

It’s like you pulse harder with every word he says.

“Squeezing me so well…” he mutters, roaming his hand over your ass. He spreads your cheeks, digging his fingertips into your flesh, and as he’s squishing you, his face becomes scrunched with desperation you haven’t seen on him before; on any guy you’ve been with really. “Fuck—“

“You can c-cum,” you speak up as your voice slightly shakes, “I’m close too…”

There’s a pleading note not only in your tone, but also in your dazed eyes that look up at him as the slamming of his body against yours becomes sloppier. He wants to last some more, but your clenching overwhelms him so much… despite it slowing him down, he still gathers all of his energy to keep up the intense strength of his thrusts.

“I can—“

“Please, p-please,” you cut him off, but immediately after you go silent, grasping his arm instead. Your nails leave an accidental scratch on his skin from the rushed movement, but you can’t help it; you lose all sense of control, and Seungmin a moment after you.

The last thing he sees before throwing his head back is the way your eyes roll back from the sensation hitting its final peak. His jaw falls open the minute he shoots his cum into the condom meanwhile his throat lets out a long deep groan.

The thrill flowing in his veins is striking; as if he finally gets a piece of something he’s been waiting for forever. For a while he just stays there, gliding slowly through your sensitive walls to get both of you back to reality before guiding your legs apart again.

As you try to catch your breath Seungmin leans forward, prepping on his two hands. Your lips are centimetres apart and it brings a flush to your face; it feels different when you’re this close without any clothes on, after you both came, and now you’re just holding onto him, keeping him warm inside you.

You kiss him back, placing your hands on his wide shoulders.

A muffled whine escapes your lips when he pushes himself into you deeply after pulling out almost all the way. The sound of your repressed sound brings a certain delight to his core, and he already wants to hear it again so he guides the fingers of his one hand down to your clit and puts some pressure with gentle circles.

The feeling of the slight overstimulation is not any less exciting for both of you.

Seungmin repeats the same move with his hips. You whimper into his mouth in sync with each sloppy thrust, causing his mind to turn foggy; the wet noise from your arousal becomes more clear as the seconds pass by, they almost echo into his head, making him dizzy. All he can think about is the two of you cumming again, having you chant his name and nothing else.

“Fuck—“ he pants after braking the kiss, leaving your lips puffy and reddish. “Fuck, I can’t s-stop…”

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t stop, keep going.”

Seungmin groans just from the tempting sound of your encouragement then hides his face in the crook of your neck. Even the way your fingers dip into his hair adds to his new wave of arousal.

After swiftly adjusting your hips higher he resumes the motions of his cock, but much quicker. He’s not teasing you slowly, anymore, he’s now eagerly aiming for your sweet spot to force another orgasm as soon as possible.

The stimulating effect starts seeping through your bodies, creating a burning knot in your tummies.

“Fuck, I needed this…” He says in one breath as his lips brush against your warm skin. The sounds of pleasure he makes start to flow more frequently; the intense groans noticeably evolve into whines that stick to your neck as he goes on. “Needed you s-so bad.”

“Then why did you wait?” You decide to ask for your surprise. Perhaps, you may regret this later, but for now, you’re not able to think straight. “Why now?”

Seungmin shifts to quickly take your wrists and pin them above your head. Your eyes widen a bit before you search for an answer in his darkened gaze, because you have a feeling that he’s not going to give you one.

His cock slows down the pace, and you already know there’s a possibility of you having to beg him to speed up soon, because you can’t put up with this.

“Haven’t I fucked you enough?” The corners of his lips curl up cunningly. “How are you still able to ask questions?”

You start to rock your hips as your heavy eyelids start to shut.

He chuckles at your needy actions, but then his own body betrays him by not being able to resist you at all.

He groans frustratedly after he begins to pound against you with full force. His hands grip your wrists in place while your legs stay wide open letting him chase your highs.

Every thrust Seungmin makes gives results exactly where you need it as if he somehow knows all your weak points already, and thanks to your crying voice in the bedroom, he can sense that too.

“Gonna m-make me c-cum… fuck, baby—“

You’re not able to tell if Seungmin says anything else. It’s like your mind melts the moment the warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach snaps. You tighten intensely around him, squeezing him hard as he throbs ready to release the pressure.

And that’s what he does after you let out another chain of wails while convulsing under his weight. You’re shaking, but he successfully tightens his grips despite his own body being overwhelmed by the ecstatic explosion of emotions too.

After slowly pulling out and removing the condom Seungmin collapses next to you and you both listen to each other trying to catch your breaths.

“I tried not to think about what happened.” He suddenly breaks the silence. “I tried to forget about you.”

You know the feeling; you tried to do the same thing, however, it still brings an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach from hearing him actually say it.

You’re about to comment when he tilts his head in your direction.

“But I realised that I don’t want that.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask quietly, unsure where this is going.

He moves his gaze from you towards the ceiling. It makes it easier to say it this way.

“I want to ask you out.”

Your lips part in surprise.

You notice that he keeps crossing his fingers, moving them around on top of his chest. Is he nervous?

You look up at the ceiling too, not able to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“… out on a date,” he feels the need to add, still avoiding your eyes which brings an amused smile to your face.

It’s obvious he lacks experience when it comes to this.

“Okay, Oh Seungmin.” You speak up at once. “I will go on a date with you.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[togenabi]

breaking news

roronoa zoro (opla) x journalist!reader

♡—you always had a feeling the straw hats could change your life, but meeting zoro shifted the entire world on its axis.

word count♡— 5.4k (omg?)

genre♡— fluff

content notes♡— opla zoro, afab!reader is a journalist whose boss is evil, inaccurate journalism and newspapery, mild violence, kissing/making out, alcohol consumption, long intro so start might be slowish?, no use of y/n, only slightly proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note ♡— get yourself a man that can kick ass and let you use his arm as a tape dispenser

A stack of papers are slammed onto your desk. The pages are riddled with edits and red marks. Towards the end of the document, the person just started crossing out everything you had written.

“Stories like that won’t sell. It’s highly inappropriate.” Chief Editor Tildie scowls down at you. “Shame that you waste your talents on such rubbish.”

“But it’s not a story.” You mutter under your breath, not meeting her gaze.

“Did you say something?” She bends down, bracing one hand on the backrest of your chair.

“...No, ma’am.” Your response is barely a whisper, but she relents and begins to head back to her office.

“Stick to the politics and gossips, hon. If you know what’s good for you.” 

You almost break your pen in frustration.

All the other journalists in the room witnessed what happened, but they all keep their heads down, buried into their typewriters and desks. No one ever tries to fight for things to change anymore.

The Oceanic Times is such a joke. Why would a newspaper company named after the ocean not be allowed to publish anything related to it? Some people have said that the current chief is running the company to the ground. You’re beginning to think it’s true.

Running your palms over your face, you take deep breaths until you’ve calmed down somewhat. The first thing you see when you uncover your eyes is your article. The one you were so excited and passionate about.

You wrote about Orange Town, they had been suffering after the Buggy Pirates invaded. Everything was destroyed and the residents were imprisoned, forced to be the audience to their own home’s ruin.

Things had stayed that way for months, until the people were saved by pirates. It sounded so unlikely to happen, and yet it did. 

Knowing a scoop when you saw one, you sent a letter to Mayor Boodle along with some berry to donate for the town’s restoration. You tried asking if he wouldn’t mind being interviewed on what happened. 

He agreed. The result was an excellent piece on how a small group of rag-tag startups got the better of Buggy the Clown, saving an entire village from his reign of terror.

…And yet, this is what you get for your hard work. Your fingers trace the red marks and strikethroughs Editor Tildie made.

You know you’re right, people around here could do with some accessible, actual news and well-researched information. But simply knowing what’s right doesn’t come with the power to fix things, doesn’t it? 

The window by your desk offers you a view of the sun setting. It was one of the things that thrilled you when you first started, having a desk on the second floor. You were so determined back then.

It’s getting far too difficult to breathe in here. You grab your pen and treasured notebook, leaving the newsroom behind.

Your feet take you to the harbor. It’s quiet, with only a few fishermen around. You find yourself gazing out into the sea. The waves push and pull and ripple in patterns that calm you down. 

For a world with so many pirates, and many enthralled by the idea of adventure, you’re sure your writing will be appreciated… It will be appreciated here, eventually.

Once, you thought about moving somewhere else. Maybe to a bigger city and work under a more renowned publisher. But you like this town too much for that. There’s a good balance of things; it has all the amenities of a developed town, but is still close enough to adventurous waters. 

This place could be an excellent hub for information. If only you got the chance to show others what you dream of.

You know some people who are eager to leave, however. Some of your friends would give anything to work in some big city paper. You even heard rumors of Chief Editor Tildie applying for work in the East Blue Daily.

Oh, what you’d give to write about real news and the feats people are achieving. Letting out a sigh, you wonder where those upstart pirates are now.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long to find the answer. One of your co-workers bursts through the door a few weeks later, holding onto the wall to steady himself and catch his breath.

“Arlong has been defeated!”

Everyone in the newsroom stops what they're doing. Even Chief Editor Tildie looks shocked.

Apparently, Marines were chasing down a group of pirates, and those same pirates saved a village in the Conomi Islands from Arlong.

Pirates saving people? Could it be?

“It’s a new pirate crew, but they’re really powerful!” Your co-worker explains further. “Roronoa Zoro is second in command, and their captain took down Arlong by himself!”

“Does the captain wear a straw hat?” You ask, but something already made you sure he did.

“Yeah, here!” He passes you a wanted poster.

A boy is smiling in the photo, wearing the same straw hat Mayor Boodle mentioned to you. 

“Is that why there have been more pirates around lately?” Editor Tildie says gruffly. “Darn sea lovers should stay at sea.”

No one comments on how Editor Tildie curses like a pirate. You value your jobs (and lives) too much. (But everyone thinks it.)

Another thing no one mentions is the excitement that seems to buzz through everyone. Like an electric current, making the air feel alive and crackle with an energy you haven’t seen in this newsroom in a long while.

News is about to break. You have work to do.

Your research leads you to trace the Straw Hat Pirates’ steps. A map of the East Blue is laid across your desk, and you begin to plot the locations where they’ve been. Holding your breath, you analyze their trail. 

It might not be so far-fetched to say that they could show up here.

You think of the article you wrote on Orange Town. It’s still there, you’ve kept it safe in the trusty notebook you keep strapped to your waist. You couldn’t bear to just scrap it. But, maybe there’s hope for it after all, now that those same pirates rose to prominence in such a short amount of time.

“Still working, huh?” One of the photographers asks you. “We’re all headed for the tavern if you want to join us.”

You smile, but can’t imagine leaving your desk for the foreseeable future. “Thanks, but maybe another night.”

Everyone else leaves, the only light left on in the office is from the lamp on your desk. The night blankets the newsroom in shadows, and you pour over your research in the welcomed silence.

A loud crash is heard outside.

Someone is getting beat up. You were just about to ignore it and chalk it up to a brawl between drunks, but you hear the local librarian yell out in fear.

You sit still for a second, steeling your resolve before rushing out to the scene. You may not know how to fight, but you should at least help the old man get out of there.

The library is the building beside the news publisher’s, so you see everything the moment you step out of the door.

Thankfully, the old librarian seems to be protected by a green-haired swordsman. He stands menacingly against several thugs, his sword glints under the moonlight. 

Not that the thugs look like they have a chance despite their numbers. Two of them are groaning and wounded on the ground, the other two are hiding behind a cart full of books.

The green-haired man raises his blade. ��Cowards.” He spits out, looking severely unimpressed.

It seems he intends to strike the other two thugs where they stand, but the librarian begs the swordsman not to damage the cart or the books.

“Please!” The librarian wails. “Not the books!” Are his priorities on straight, you wonder?

“I don’t really care about that.” The man says, getting ready to charge at the men—through the books.

“Wait!” You yell, unable to just stand there. They all look at you with varying degrees of ‘who the hell is she?!’.

You use their surprise to your advantage, running quickly to the cart and pulling it out of the way. Everyone watches, astonished, as you take away the only thing that separated the thugs from the swordsman.

Said swordsman merely shrugs. “Fine.”

He’s so fast his form almost blurs. The thugs scream in fear, and for good reason. They’re cut down in two seconds.

“Oh thank goodness!” The librarian sobs, cradling the books that did not get shredded.

“Would you like some help carrying those inside?” You ask him, but he declines.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for saving the books my dear. Pirates just can’t seem to fathom not solving things with violence.” 

You’re baffled at how the old man can smile at you then look at the swordsman in disdain in the same breath. Shouldn’t he be grateful his life was protected?

He leaves, heaving the books into the library, but you stop him.

“No, hold on, let us help you.” You try again. “We insist.”

“We do?” The stranger asks incredulously.

“Yes.” You say, gesturing at how the old librarian’s arms are about to give out.

The swordsman looks displeased, but retrieves the books anyway.

“And you, sir,” You turn to the librarian. “You should thank him.”

The old man sputters. 

“Don’t bother.” The stranger says. “Don’t even know why I did.”

The librarian huffs, but his glare falters this time. “...Thank you, lad.”

The green-haired man blinks. Like he doesn’t know what to do after somebody thanks him. It’s strangely endearing.

You both help the librarian get settled inside. It’s still painfully awkward, but you like to think that things turned out well.

The two of you leave the library together. Being in closer proximity, you get a better look at him. He’s exceedingly handsome, but what catches your eye are the three earrings dangling from his left ear.

Your eyes widen in recognition. “Roronoa Zoro.”

“...Do I know you?” He asks, looking at you impassively.

“I’m a journalist.” You say instead of answering him, as you introduce yourself. You point to the newspaper company next door

“Hm.” Is all you get from him. 

You expected many things if you ever met any of the Straw Hats, but extreme disinterest isn’t one of them.

“Do you think I could ask you a few questions?” You ask, hopeful to convince him.

“You get one, and you just asked. So I guess we’re done here.” Zoro says. “Here’s my question, where’s the closest place I can get a drink around here?”

Undeterred, you try to meet him in the middle, “I have a bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer with your name on it.”

When he doesn’t reject you outright, you realize you have a shot at this.

You step towards him, eyes not leaving his as you make him an offer. “How about, I get you a drink, and you answer some questions for me?”

The confidence you feel surging isn’t normal for you, but you lean into it. When else are you going to get this chance?

Zoro studies you, more seriously this time. You can tell the moment his eyes shift that he must see right through to you. That you’re no fighter, but you’re determined. You’ll follow him around town until he gives you what you’re looking for if he disagrees.

To your delight, he nods.

But when you enter the building, you find something that you didn’t expect.

The entire place looks like it had been ransacked. You gasp in horror at the mess. Papers were strewn everywhere, all the desks were in disarray. How could this have happened in the time that you were gone? 

Zoro steps in front of you protectively. A hand hovers on the handle of his blade as he surveys the damage. You can’t help but feel responsible for this.

You should have locked the door. You should have just called it a night. You should have just joined your friends for a drink and worked in the morning like a normal person. You should have—

“This isn’t your fault.” 

Zoro’s back is still to you. For a while, he simply stays still.

Then he says it again. Slower this time, as if to emphasize the words, “This isn’t your fault.”

It’s not much, but it manages to make you pull yourself together. He’s right, it isn’t. So you have to find out who did.

You and Zoro head deeper into the building, taking careful steps in search for clues.

Zoro eyes the staircase leading to the upper floor, and he holds out his arm to block you from going any further.

“What’s wrong?” You ask in a very hushed whisper.

He points up the stairs, where you see the shadow of someone moving.

“I’ll deal with them. Stay here.” He instructs, but you grab his arm before he can take another step.

“No!” You whisper-yell. “I’m going too.”

He gives you that same, unimpressed expression he seems to be so fond of. To be honest, you’re becoming fond of it too. The effect on you is waning, if that's any indication.

“Why do you always look for trouble?” Zoro sighs. “Do what you want.” 

Is it because he’s whispering, or does his voice lack its previous edge when he spoke to you?

You don’t have time to think more on that, however. Zoro begins ascending the stairs. You’ve never been more thankful that the steps are carpeted, your shoes would have clattered loudly otherwise. 

Together, without a sound, you reach the second floor landing. It’s dark, but the damage you see is no better up here. The intruder really left no surface undisturbed. 

Sounds of someone opening and shutting drawers alarms you. Zoro, very carefully, pulls out his sword.

More alarm bells start to ring when Zoro approaches the sound, and you realize it’s coming from your desk.

Zoro holds out an arm again, giving you a look that says stay put this time. Fine. You hang back while he impressively sneaks up behind the intruder without a sound.

The person is rummaging frantically through your desk, making noises that helps Zoro conceal himself. A document falls to the floor, and the shadowed figure kneels down to pick it up. 

Zoro points his blade to their neck before they can get up. They freeze.

You turn on the lamp on the desk nearest you. The light illuminates the room enough that you can finally see the intruder’s face.

Only, it isn’t an intruder.

“Chief Editor Tildie?” You gasp, confused.

Your boss looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but her expression suddenly melts into relief.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two got here! Everything was a mess there were, uh, robbers! Yes, yes—nasty thieves got into the building.” 

That doesn’t make any sense. What would thieves want to steal from a publishing business anyway? 

She cuts you off when you’re about to point out her suspicious behavior, “There were so many of them, I have no idea how they got in! I was going back to pick up some things, and the place was already like this.” 

“My dear…” Editor Tildie looks at you with mock concern, “You didn’t leave the door unlocked, did you?”

How dare she?

“You’re so full of shit.” Zoro tsks, inching his blade closer to her skin. “I would have noticed if a bunch of guys went through the front door.”

You blink when the puzzle clicks in your head. “She was in here the whole time.”

“You can’t prove anything, you wannabe writer!” Editor Tildie bursts out, her expression once again shifting back to panic.

“Who do you think they’re going to believe?” She glares, daring you. “You? Some no-name writer? Or ME, the Chief—”

Zoro knocks her head with the hilt of his sword. She falls with a thud.

You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long sigh. You’re exhausted, but you should really investigate why your boss did all this then try to put the blame on you.

Like the others, your desk was trashed. Even your notes are scattered all over the floor. The map you were painstakingly studying was torn in half. But strangely, the other things you had been working on are missing.

Zoro walks around the desk. “Over here.” He says, having found something.

It’s a large duffel bag, filled to the brim with papers of… rejected articles? You sift through the contents, they all seem to be your co-workers’ recent work. You remember proofreading several of them, everyone has been doing so well lately. 

But why would the Chief Editor steal these after rejecting all of them?

“Could you watch her for a minute, please?” You ask Zoro. “I need to check her office.”

Zoro looks at you strangely, you can’t quite pinpoint his expression. It’s half ‘you’re leaving me here, really?’ and half ‘will you be okay?’.

“Scream if you get into trouble.” He sighs, settling into your office chair. “‘Cause you eventually find it.”

You leave, shaking your head fondly. So he does care.

Inside the Chief Editor’s office, things are a mess as well. You suspect that was probably done to throw investigators off. But she left some things here, and from there, it’s easy to put together what happened.

A briefcase sits on her desk. It’s left open, with several letters lying inside. They’re all correspondence with famous newspapers.

‘The East Blue Daily would be delighted to host your article on the events in Orange Town. Please submit a draft at your earliest convenience. We are excited to...’

You have to set the letter down and stop reading. This bitch was planning to steal everyone’s work. Fury rushes into your head as you let out a disbelieving laugh. How could she do this after tearing everyone down?

It finally makes sense why she never greenlit any of the best articles. She probably sent them to other companies claiming they were her original work.

Judging from the other letters and her packed bags, she likely intended for this to be her last stunt. The Oceanic Times would sink into nothing, and she would be off to work for some famous paper.

And she was right. If you and Zoro hadn’t caught her, no one other than your co-workers would believe you that she did this. And none of you were reputable enough to be considered credible. You would probably have to take the fall for leaving the door unlocked, just like she planned.

Zoro calls out your name when you’ve been in here for a few minutes. Despite how drained and tired you feel, you gather the evidence in the suitcase, carrying it out with you. 

You must look worse than you thought, because Zoro’s brows furrow in concern when he sees you.

Zoro hasn’t gotten up from your chair. He remains silent and still, but his attention on you is unwavering.

“She was planning to steal our work.” You explain, sitting on top of your desk. “I would’ve been powerless.”

“Would’ve been.” Zoro says. “But you’re not.”

When he stands, you worry that he might be leaving you. But instead, he drags Tildie (who you notice has been tied up) and traps her in her own office. Zoro moves a desk to block the door.

As he pushes it, your eyes follow the movement of his arms. You have to turn away to hide your flustered expression. For some reason, you remember Tildie’s words about your article: this is highly inappropriate.

He comes back, reclaiming his (your) chair. His hands reach for something under the desk. Under your legs. This is highly—

All thoughts in your head stop on their tracks when he meets your eyes again. He’s holding the whiskey you mentioned. You were about to mention your surprise that he didn’t drink any yet, but the words die in your throat. It’s entrancing the way his eyes seem to glow the same color as the liquid. 

Zoro taps the glass with his fingers. “I think this bottle has both our names on it.”

If you were in a normal state of mind, you would probably be embarrassed by how much you’re crying in front of Roronoa Zoro. Maybe Zoro would even regret offering you a drink.

You’re not drunk yet, but you’re probably getting there since you’re becoming an emotional mess. Thankfully, Zoro is an excellent listener. You let everything out.

“I just want to write. I want people to read my work.” You sob as you tape your map of the East Blue back together.

Zoro hums, indicating he hears you. One of his arms is extended on your desk, laden with strips of tape. How you managed to use Roronoa Zoro as a tape dispenser is beyond you, but you feel strangely proud of it.

“Why don’t you write, then?” Zoro asks, not taking his eyes off you.

“I can’t!” You sniff before pulling another piece of tape from his skin. “Tildie—that bitch—do you know her? She’s awful, she never approves of our good articles.”

“She’s gone now.” He says. “You can write what you want.” 

“Oh.” Right. He’s right, of course he is. “Okay then.”

There’s a beat of silence while you fix your map. When you’re done, you beam at Zoro.

“I’ll write about you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Will you, now?”

“You can bet on it.” Smoothing your fingers over your mended map, you say wistfully, “I wonder where you’ll head off to next.”

Before he can answer that, you voice out a thought that feels strangely sad.

“...I wonder if you’ll come back.”

You can’t even meet his eyes anymore. Half-drunk or not, you knew how embarrassing that was to say. You only met a few hours ago, but why does it feel like you’ll miss him more than anything when he leaves?

“That depends,” Zoro clears his throat. “Are you going to give me a reason to?”

The way your face lit up with shock and happiness was so adorable that it caught Zoro by surprise. He almost lets out a full laugh, but he manages to conceal it with a fake cough.

Leaning down, you grab his shoulder and pull him to you. The office chair rolls over to right where you want him.

This is highly inappropriate… But you can’t help yourself when you respond, “You can bet on that too.”

Kissing Zoro feels electric. You feel your head go fuzzy and your hands are eager to hold onto something. So you hold onto him; the back of his neck—thread your fingers into his hair. He keeps his hands on your waist. They do not wander, but he grips you like you’re some sort of lifeline.

Lifeline.

You break the kiss abruptly, getting an epiphany. This whole experience was a mess, but this could be the lifeline you've been waiting for.

Zoro groans, trying to pull you down for another kiss, but you stop him with a grin, “Do you think I could ask you a few questions?” 

Before the interview, Zoro set some ground rules. A few of them involved you, like how you were not to disclose your relationship unless absolutely necessary, since it could put you in danger.

Others involved his crew, such as he couldn’t go into detail with the members and their abilities. That would just be too risky.

The questions themselves don’t necessarily matter to you, since the interview alone will be a huge boost for The Oceanic Times. So you agree to all of his terms… Including the one where he gets a kiss for each answer he gives.

“When you met Luffy,” You begin, “Did you know that you were going to follow him? Or did it take some convincing?”

“Convincing.” Zoro answers.

You wait for him to elaborate. “...Is that it?”

“Yes.” He responds before nudging you, “That’s two.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you kiss him twice but pull away before he can deepen it.

He frowns at you, and you laugh as you ask your next question, “So you didn’t plan on becoming a pirate?”

“No.” 

“...”

“...”

“...Zoro, stop making me ask more than one question.” You say, unimpressed.

“Don’t ask questions that can be answered with one word, then.” He quips back challengingly.

You hate that he’s got you there. You miss his lips on purpose, kissing his cheek in retaliation.

“What was that?” Zoro complains.

“A kiss.” You answer smugly as you write things down in your notebook. You hit him with your last question.

“Why do you follow your captain?” 

To your credit, this one makes him think for a minute. 

“...Because we all have dreams, and we’re all going to get there together.”

You smile at him, touched. “That’s beautiful.”

Zoro makes a face, leaning back into his seat. “Nevermind, don’t write that down. I take it back.”

“Aw,” You tease. “I wonder what your captain will say about that.”

Zoro grumbles something about how he shouldn't have answered that, but you can tell he meant it. But not to worry, you weren’t about to write some sap piece his enemies can use against him.

You were going to make breaking news.

That was the plan. Or it was, until you fell asleep at some point during the night. You had pulled over another chair, working your typewriter to the bone as you burned through your adrenaline rush.

You woke up the next morning with Zoro leaning on your shoulder; he was still asleep. You took this quiet minute as an opportunity to admire him.

Things would have gone so much differently if he hadn't been around. You probably would have gone out to help the librarian with those thugs alone, and you wouldn’t have made it back to the office soon enough to catch Tildie.

Realization dawns on you. Tildie probably hired those thugs herself, so that you would be preoccupied. You make a mental note to have those thugs questioned later. 

All that’s happened… It was scary, yet exciting, since Zoro was with you. He makes you feel eager to find the next big story to write about.

He rouses at that moment, eyes slowly blinking awake. He yawns and stretches, and when he properly looks at you, he shakes his head at your expression.

“Now I know what face you make when you want to go looking for trouble.”

After you reach out to the authorities, Zoro leaves to find his crew. You were sure they were worried sick by now, since he’s been gone so long. He tells you that they’re scheduled to leave this afternoon.

You’ll miss him, but you know it’s for the best.

The harbor is bustling with life when you get there, the complete contrast to how it was months ago. Funny how in both times your feet take you here, you’re wondering where a certain group of pirates are.

But your pirate is easy to find, he’s waiting for you by his crew’s ship. 

“Came to give me a reason to come back?” Zoro jests, taking your hand once you’re close enough.

“Couldn’t wait to see you leave, actually.” You joke. He startles you by pulling you close.

You’re about to kiss him when he spots something over your head that makes him frown. Your eyes follow his gaze to find his crew members watching you both.

“Don’t mind us! We’re just enjoying the show!” The one with a bandana on his head yells out.

“Did I miss something? I missed something, didn’t I?” A blond man asks, his face completely flabbergasted.

“I think we all did.” The woman next to him remarks.

“But we’re really happy for you, Zoro!” Their captain cheers and whoops.

Indeed, now might be a good time for the sea to swallow you up. Maybe you should jump?

“Get lost.” Zoro snaps at them. They all holler and laugh, but do as he says.

“Um,” You say. Maybe you should just give him his farewell present to distract yourself from the embarrassment. “I got you this.” You hand him a folded piece of paper.

It’s your article on Orange Town. One of his very first adventures, and the moment you first heard of him retyped on a special kind of stationery and everything. You even made sure the ink is good quality so that it doesn’t fade. (You also spritzed it with your perfume, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

“Ask your friends to read it, please?” You request. “Then tell me what you all think about it.”

Zoro glances at the paper, recognizing how much work you put into it, and how much you went through to get to where you are now. 

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” The soft, small smile he gives you makes you feel weak in the knees.

He pulls you in again, his arms embracing your waist. You respond by draping your arms over his shoulders. Your fingers play with the back of his hair.

“Write to me?” You ask softly, only for him to hear.

“Writing isn't really my thing.”

You pout.

“...I’ll send you a postcard or something.”

A laugh escapes you. That was such a Zoro kind of compromise. “I’ll take it.”

“As for me,” He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll take this.”

The kiss is different from the kisses you shared last night. Maybe it’s because you don’t know when the next one will be. He kisses you dearly, showing you how much he cares when he holds the sides of your face tenderly.

“...See you soon.” You greet him.

The words strangely get stuck in Zoro’s throat, but he gets them out nonetheless. 

“See you soon.”

…

“Right,” Sanji taps a pen on his notepad. “Does anyone else need anything from the market?”

Luffy approaches him, reading the contents of the list over his shoulder. “Nope! I think you got everything.”

If the captain says so, he must be right. But Sanji makes a face, still feeling like he's missing something. He's double checking the cupboards when Nami walks into the kitchen.

“Nami!” Sanji beams. “Do you need me to get you anything from the market?”

“Sanji thinks he's forgetting something.” Luffy explains to her, pointing to the notepad left on the counter.

Leave it to Nami to figure out what's missing at a glance. “Zoro's newspaper.” She says, and the boys nod in realization at the same time.

“Ah, right.” Sanji scribbles The Oceanic Times onto the list.

“I’m actually really impressed by her.” Nami says on her way to crash on the couch. “She writes well.”

“Damn right she does.” Zoro says, entering the room with Usopp right behind him.

“Yeah but man,” Usopp complains, “You need to let us finish reading. You always hog it or give us a time limit on it.”

Zoro merely shrugs, like that isn’t his concern. “Buy one for yourself then.”

Nami smirks. “She must have you really whipped if you’re marketing for her.”

“I don’t think she needs it, actually.” Luffy comments. “The paper is doing really well, isn’t it?”

A small smile forms on Zoro’s lips. “Damn right it is.”

When he gets his hands on The Oceanic Times later that day, Zoro reads every bit of it. He rereads your name over and over again, proud of the ‘Editor in Chief’ title that goes before it. 

Though he reads every single word, he always skips the small gossip corner first, where anonymous people send in messages or thoughts.

Every week, like clockwork, there’s an anonymous reader who submits messages for her distant lover. When he first saw it, he instantly knew it was you.

‘I heard you were injured. I can’t believe you’re making me worry like this.’

Zoro laughs, and everyone in the kitchen freezes.

He slowly, almost cautiously, glances up from the paper. The Straw Hats look at him with a tricky sparkle in their eyes that makes him uncomfortable.

“Don’t even—” Zoro starts, but it’s too late. Usopp is already standing on his chair, acting like a newspaper salesman.

“Step right up! Read all about it! It’s breaking news: The Roronoa Zoro giggled because of his girlfriend—” 

“You have three seconds to run.” Zoro threatens while folding the newspaper carefully. Usopp runs for his life.

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[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VILLAIN!HYUNJIN, FEM!HERO!READER, HYUNJIN OBSESSED W/ READER, EXES TO ???, SEX TOYS, LINGERIE, STALKING (?), CORRUPTION KINK, MENTIONS OF TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, CHOKING, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, BOOB/NIPPLE PLAY, HANDCUFFS, HARD DOM!HYUNJIN, ORAL (F. REC), UNPROTECTED SEX, THEY’RE MEAN TO EACH OTHER, PET NAMES (BEAUTIFUL, DARLING,), (1) PUSSY SLAP, SEX TOYS, BEGGING, ORGASM DENIAL, CREAMPIE, VIBRATOR TORTURE, IMPLIED MORE ROUNDS ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.9K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     It was a game to him. A little bit of cat and mouse. Who was who didn't matter? It was fun either way. It was a long game.

     To her, it was a frustration. Dealing with his misleading games. From small petty crimes to large-scale ones, he evaded her. Leaving the scene just as she got there leaving a note. 

     ‘Next time, beautiful. - H’

     A rose with every letter he left. Stumping his little hero in her tracks before he let her catch onto him. Purposefully letting her catch a glimpse of him when she came to stop him. Leaving hints till he was just within reach of him. 

      Playing his cards right to lead her to some dingy nightclub. Getting lost in the crowd. Watching her look for him till he caught her off guard. He was the cat tonight. 

     Quickly walked up behind her on the crowded dance floor and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest. Leaning into his ear. “Don’t turn around, beautiful.”

     “Whatever you're planning, don't.” She replied.

     “Then you’ll follow me,” he told her, pulling her out of the crowd and down a hallway. 

     There was barely any light in the hallway. She couldn't even see his face. Just his silhouette— tall and slender. Shorter hair bounced slightly as he walked. 

     Making a sharp turn into a room before pulling her in. Keeping the lights off as he pushed her against the wall.  Pushing his body right against hers. Even in the dark, she could tell he was smirking. 

     “What are you after?” She asked, waiting for her to adjust to the dark to make out his face. 

     “Originally, just the thrill and money. Then you came to the city.”

     She knew that voice. Just couldn’t figure out where. 

     “What do I have to do with this?” she asked 

     “You haven’t figured it out, darling?”

     “Hyu—”

     Y/n was cut off from her sentence by his lips. Those plump lips that took her forever to forget. Just confirming her guess. Only he had ever called her that nickname. 

     His lips left hers as quickly as they were on hers. “Told you we’d meet again. Just need you to want me like I want you, again.”

     Hyunjin pulled away from her and quickly left the room. Y/n followed him a second too late. He was gone as quickly as he appeared. 

     She wasn't aware he was living a double life when they met. She’d just moved to the city for work. She started her ‘volunteer work’ a few days later and two weeks later she met Hyunjin when she was grabbing coffee before work. He had come up and asked her on a date. What could go wrong?

     Maybe it was his possessiveness that set her off. Some was fine but it had caused so many arguments between them in the few months they were together. If they weren’t fighting, they were fucking.

     It wasn’t healthy so she ended things. Five months went by without a hitch. Two months ago, “H” started messing with her. Now everything was making sense to her. 

     She was happy she was off from her day job the next day. Sitting on her couch with her computer and a cup of coffee, hacking into the police department records. There wasn't anything on Hyunjin, he was good at covering his tracks so the cops hadn’t caught him.

     She jumped when she heard her doorbell buzz. She shut her laptop and walked to her apartment door. Seeing a flower delivery man through her peephole. Sighing as she opened the door. 

     “For Y/n L/n,” He said 

     “Thank you,” Y/n smiled, taking the bouquet from him and closing the door. 

     Red roses. A signature at this point for him but she still read the note sticking out from the top.

     ‘I know you’re looking for me, darling. You’ll only find me when I want you to. Keep thinking of me ♡- Hyunjin’

     The pattern repeated every week. She’d look for him but it’d seem he disappeared. His little crime spree seemed to stop, but not other criminals. She did her job in the dead of night. Leaving them for the cops to pick up later. Even though it was their job to catch the criminals in the city, when she got home in the early hours of the morning, there was always something. Notes, flowers, gifts. His attempt at winning her back. Everything but the notes was tossed.

     She had a distaste for how often he was on her mind now. She’d barely thought about him in months but their nightclub encounter was messing with her head. Then she’d drift to their good times— however rare they were.

     Maybe that's how she found herself at the same nightclub. Her eyes peeled for him but he never showed. Rather she was hit on by drunk men all night till she called it quits heading back to her apartment building. Parking her car and heading back up to her unit. 

     She sensed something off when she opened her door. Nothing was out of place, everything was locked. Nonetheless, she quietly closed her front door and locked it. Slipping off her shoes and hanging up her things while grabbing one of the throwing knives she carried out her bag to check her rooms. Just to find nothing but a gift box on her bed. 

     Slowly she walked towards it and undid the ribbon. Jumping as her phone rang.

     She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Unknown caller. She answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

     “Not gonna finish opening your present?” Hyunjin’s voice rang the speaker

     “Where are you Hyunjin,” Y/n said

     “Mhm, I missed the way you say my name,” he chuckled on the other end of the line. Fuck that laugh

     Y/n put her phone on speaker and set it on her bed while she opened the box. Tissue paper covering whatever was under it. Lifting the tissue to find a red and black lingerie set with an egg vibrator sitting on top.

     “You like your gift darling?” 

     “Are you out of your mind?” Y/n asked after taking the phone off speaker

     “Mmmm, yes. I am. But you are too.”

     “I’m perfectly sane.”

     “Perfectly sane people don’t jump from buildings every night and take out shitty excuses for criminals. Or chase after their exes”

     “I’m not chasing you.”

     “You’re not?” Hyunjin laughed again, “Then why go to that club again? Definitely didn’t look like you were interested in any of the drunks that came up to you.”

     He was there. And he was watching. 

     “Admit it Y/n, you need me. All over again. We were almost perfect together.”

     “Fighting and fucking all the time was ‘almost perfect’ to you?”

     “The fucking, yes. Could’ve done with less fighting.”

     “That’s why I left.”

     “But here you are, chasing me.”

     Y/n went to say something else but he hung up. She tried calling back but nothing. Sighing in frustration she threw her phone on her bed. Moving the box off her bed and stepping out onto her fire escape for some air. She should just go to sleep but didn’t think she would be able to. It was nearing four in the morning.

     Putting pieces together on a chilly night. Hyunjin knew where she was— not that she moved after their breakup— and how to get in. He possibly could have made a copy of her key and was using that. But there weren’t any threats or danger in his actions. He was just obsessed. Which matched with his possessiveness. 

     He was also watching her. How? She had no clue. She went back inside and checked her whole apartment for cameras or microphones. Nothing. That meant he was close by.

     Y/n went on about her life. Keeping an eye on her surroundings for him. Waiting to see if he would slip up. And he did.

     Her coworkers had insisted on going out over the weekend. A group of them going out to the club and opening a tab. Forgetting about the work stress of dancing and alcohol.

     Hyunjin followed, just as he had. His whole plan was working far too slowly for his taste. Materialistic things weren’t working like he thought. Maybe he could get her alone again. And luck was on his side. Her group had left her on the dance floor and he was behind her in seconds, hands on her hips

     “You look good,” He whispered in her ear

     “Still trying?” She laughed as she turned to him

     “You’re worth trying for.”

     “What’s your end goal here, Hyunjin?” She asked as she pulled him closer to her, just to have a semi-private conversation on the dance floor.

     “Fuck you till you’re as crazy as I am.”

     Y/n looked over his facial expression. He was serious with that devilish smile of his. Leaning in till his lips ghosted her ear. “It’s not like anyone after me has gotten you off like I have. Isn’t that right?”

     “Been keeping that close of tabs, have you?” Y/n tried not to let it phase her

     “Of course I have. Tell me I’m right.”

     Hyunjin lifted a hand to hold her chin while he locked eye contact with her, “Tell me I’m right, and I’ll give you all those pretty orgasms you’ve been missing.”

     “Fuck you,” Y/n said before pulling him to her lips. 

     Hyunjin responded quickly and let his hand rest against her neck. Smiling into their heated kiss before pulling back. “That's my girl.”

     Y/n quickly pulled both of them out of the club. Hyunjin smirked at her eagerness, letting her drag him out to the alleyway behind the club. Pressing him up against the wall and pressing her lips to his again. 

     Hyunjin moaned into her lips before flipping them so she was against the wall. Pressing her hips against his while she gripped his jacket. Slipping his tongue past her lips and dominating her mouth. 

     Y/n fought back with her own tongue till his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping as he pulled away and looked at her. “I wonder what this city would think about their favorite hero falling for a villain's charms.”

     He let go of her and pulled her out of the alley. Dragging her towards her apartment. The two made it up her stairs as quickly as they could while Y/n grabbed her keys out of her bag. Hyunjin pressed himself right up behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck till the lock clicked and the door opened. Walking inside with her and locking the door behind him. 

     Turning her around and walking her back into her living room, lips reattaching to hers. Backing up to the back of her couch. Y/n grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his hair while he sat her on the back of the couch. 

     “Missed these lips so damn much,” Hyunjin mumbled against her lips as he shrugged off his jacket, “been thinking about them every night.”

     “Gonna talk all night or you gonna make do on your promise,” Y/n asked

     Hyunjin smirked and picked her up by her thighs. Wrapping her legs around him, “Don't be taking an attitude now darling.” He warned as he walked towards her bedroom 

     “Thought you liked it when I had one,” Y/n teased

     Hyunjin walked through her door and pinned her down onto her bed, attacking her neck. Kissing the top of her breasts that peaked out from her shirt before lifting the fabric over her head. Just to be greeted with the lingerie he had bought her. 

     Y/n knew his ego was growing seeing the red and black lace. She could see it in his eyes and by the way he practically ripped the remainder of her clothes off her body— lingerie included— before discarding his. Pinning her wrists to her pillows as he started marking up her skin

     Y/n tried slipping her hands out of his but Hyunjin was quick to catch on and moved to hold her hands above her head in one hand while looking down at her. “Can’t behave unless you're tied up, huh?”

     Hyunjin leaned over to her nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Finding that his toy selection hadn't moved. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, and locking her to the bed frame. Y/n tugged on the cuffs, both of them knew how to get out of them. That’s why Hyunjin was quick to drag his fingers through her folds and wrap his plump lips around her nipple. His rough tongue flicked the bud while his thumb slowly rolled across her clit. Slowly slipping two fingers inside her. 

     Y/n arched slightly into him, biting her bottom lip to stop her moans. Hyunjin thrusted his fingers in and out of her, slowly picking up his pace. Switching between her breasts sucking, licking, biting, and blowing on her nipples. Making her shiver from the cold feeling. 

     Slowly his lips trailed down her body after getting bored with her tits. Laying on his stomach and wrapping his pretty lips around her clit. Sucking on the little bud and slipped a third finger in. Curling up into her walls. 

     Y/n slowly rocked against him as the pads of his fingers just were barely rubbing against the one spongy spot inside of her. “Fuck,” Y/n whined

     Hyunjin pressed on, finding the spot and abusing it along with her clit. Listening to her moans pick up. Feeling her legs shake next to him as her rocking became more erratic till she stilled. Warmth covered his fingers. 

     He pulled his fingers out and pushed his tongue inside her. Thrusting the muscle in and out of her as she rode out her high. However, he didn't stop once she came down. Licking her clean from the inside till he was satisfied. 

     Sitting up on his knees as he pushed her legs open, hooking his hands under her knees. “Don't got much to say now?” he teased as he wrapped one hand around his leaky cock. Pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up at her entrance. 

     “Just waiting for you to give me a good fuck,” Y/n smiled. 

     Hyunjin scoffed before sinking into her in one go. Watching her mouth fall open. He leaned down and he grabbed her neck as her mouth closed again. “You’re so much nicer to me when my cock’s inside you,” he chuckled as he pulled back and thrusted into her again. 

     Sitting back up and keeping his hold on her neck, using it to push her to meet his thrust. Feeling her vocal cords move under his hand from any whines and moans she was making. 

     “Seems like you missed having me inside your pretty little pussy,” Hyunjin groaned 

     “Didn't miss you at all,” Y/n shot back at him

     “Really?” Hyunjin pulled his hand from her neck and then pulled out of her. Listening as she whined and her hips bucked towards him. Her hole clenching around nothing, “Seems like you did.”

     Hyunjin brought his hand down on her wet cunt. Enjoying the little scream she let out. He peaked over at the open toy drawer to see what else he could use. Pulling out a magic wand and licking his lips. 

     He didn't think twice about turning the toy to the second-lowest setting and pressing it against her clit. 

     “Oh fuck,” Y/n whined, throwing her head back into the pillow 

     “You're going to start begging if you wanna cum,” Hyunjin told her 

     He kept one hand pressing the toy to her clit while he wrapped the other around himself. Getting off to the way her body shook from the toy. Waiting to hear her beg for him to fuck her again. 

     “‘M gonna cum,” Y/n moaned

     Hyunjin pulled the toy away from her clit. Laughing at her whines and pleas. 

     “Please Jinnie, wanna cum so bad,” Y/n whined, “Promised you’d give me em.”

     “That’s before you were a brat,” Hyunjin huffed 

     “‘M sorry! I missed you, missed having you inside me! Need you to cum,” Y/n rambled, tears escaping her eyed 

     “Yeah?” He asked, feeling his high quickly approaching, and pointed his tip at her wet folds, more aiming for her clenching hole

     “Yes! Thought of you every time I was with someone else!”

     Y/n gasped as Hyunjin filled her with his cock again. Immediately bullying his cock against her walls. Pressing the toy back against her clit, feeling her clench around him. 

     “Shit,” Hyunjin groaned. 

     Within a few more thrusts, he buried himself inside her. His warm cum filled her up. The vibrator slipped from her clit for a moment before he fixed the issue and turned up the speed. 

     Listening to her whines as he came down from his high just to finally trigger hers. Watching her hips buck against him. Hyunjin managed to pull out of her and pull the toy away from her to take in the full show. Smiling as she came down, their mixture dripped out of her. 

     He turned off the toy and tossed it beside them on the bed. Finding the keys for the cuffs and unlinking them from the headboard. Turning the hero onto her stomach and lifting her hips up and sinking back into her. 

     “Jin,” Y/n whined

     “You’re okay darling. Gonna take care of you all night,” Hyunjin smirked and nipped at her ear.

     Hands grabbing her wrists and pinning her down to the pillows. “Gotta remind you that you’re mine.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[villainscharm]

BLOOD AND BONES | davos blackwood

CHAPTER : ONE

MASTERLIST — PREFACE / TWO

paring : davos blackwood x f! original character

summary : when queen rhaenyra’s letter left unanswered, she had no choice but to send the young lord from house blackwood to compromise the infamous house lairwyn, whose rumours haunted the riverlands for centuries — a mission which led to an arranged marriage between the two houses.

a/n : since we have no idea who his father was, i’m making him the nephew of samwell and willem. mostly because i’m using show canon as a guideline, so i’m trying to keep it as flexible as possible! pls excuse me if anything is inaccurate for asoiaf universe!

english is not my first language. all characters are of age unless stated otherwise.

words count : 3.4k

warnings : original house/characters. dark theme. mention of death. implied vampire history. also no beta read

Bloodstone was merely a castle compared to others in the realm. It was not large, some would call it a mansion but its dark and gloomy aura had kept people away for many years. So when anyone approached, the entire castle knew instantly, just as this morning when two ravens arrived before the castle with two different envelopes, one with red wax and one with green.

The letters were taken to lord of Bloodstone immediately, just as the same time as lady Celia was back from her usual routine of morning horse riding. “Lady Celia,” called out an old lord, stumbling through the yard to meet the lady who had just returned. Celia got off her horse’s back, dropping herself to the wet ground beneath her boots with a sigh. “Lord Orwen, you’re up early this morning,” Celia remarked, a smirk casted up upon her lips as she teased, for the old lord usually slept during most time.

“As you are, my lady. Your routine went well this morning, I venture?” lord Orwen asked politely as he watched Celia take off her gloves and her riding gear. “I wouldn't say well, my lord. The dirt is too wet and muddy. The weather makes my hair stick to my face,” she turned to look at Lord Orwen’s face when she finished taking her gears off. She could see the distress displayed on his face as he awaited for her to finish, not daring to interrupt her.

“There have been words from the city, my lady. Your brother requested your presence immediately in the study,” he sounded serious and distressed as she had thought. Celia nodded at him in acknowledgment before marching through the hall of Bloodstone, heading towards the study room where her brother was said to be at.

“Brother,” Celia called as she entered the study, the large wooden door closed behind her with a loud thud. “You wished to see me.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. The pair of them had never got any serious matters to discuss, especially from others houses. But judging by the tone of lord Orwin’s voice, this matter must be deadly serious.

Carlos said nothing as he handed two envelopes towards his sister. Celia reached out and took it before she began reading the content inside.

This is an important message to house Lairwyn of Bloodstone. Pledge your loyalty to the one true king Aegon Targaryen second of his name, acknowledging his grace as your king and denying the claim of the false queen at once. Or your house shall die as traitors to the realm.

The only response that Celia gave was simply a scoff as she threw it back on the table where her brother was sitting behind. Carlos returned her a smirk as he gestured to her to start the other one, and she did so.

This is an important message to house Lairwyn of Bloodstone, from queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name. Many years ago in king Viserys’ reign, house Lairwyn had sworn oaths and loyalty to the crown. Now we are advising you to stay true to your oaths once more. Or you shall be known to side with the usurper and meet with consequences of fire and blood.

Celia finished the letter and placed it upon the table. Her gaze met her brother’s as they considered the content of it. “House Lairwyn had never been asked to voice out or participate in any matters, especially war,” Carlos stated, reaching once again for the letters in front. His eyes darted between the two parchments, analyzing the situation of the matters, “That means they are desperate.”

“They threaten to kill us if we don’t accept them— any of them,” Celia said in a matter of fact tone. She knew well no matter what their answer was, war would still come for them. When the realm was at peace for more than eighty years, matters of war were never involved or pressured anyone. But now that there was one happening, all must choose.

“Should we say our choice then?” Celia finally asked after a moment of silence. Carlos said nothing as he was still considering the situation. “Let them wait. When desperation comes, they will show us their true nature,” Carlos settled whilst Celia nodded in agreement. Carlos was always the wise one. He became head of the house when he was one and ten. So it would be best to let him make decisions about anything. “Now,” he spoke again. “Forget kings and queens matter. We have more important matters to discuss, you and I,” Celia watched as her brother straightened his posture in his seat.

“And what matter would that be?” her gaze met him, awaiting for her brother’s response before he finally said one. “The matter of our house, Celia,” Carlos looked at his sister sternly. As he was certainly aware that Celia disliked this matter the most. Marriage. “Not my preference of matters to discuss then,” Celia responded with an eye roll but she moved forward and took a seat opposite of her brother. “This is important, Celia,” Carlos’ voice was sharp and serious as he continued, “You have come of age, Celia. Soon you’ll have to find a husband to wed.” Carlos tried to reason with her whilst Celia did not meet his eyes as she responded. “I know. I just thought you might let me be as freely as I wish for a while before then,” her eyes low and her face looked unpleasant at the thought.

When their parents died, Carlos had become the head of their house ever since then, taking care of his sister with the help of no one at the age of one and ten. Now that time passed, Carlos had grown into a man with a mind beyond his age. He possessed the knowledge and capability of a man in his fifties while he was in fact only twenty-three.

“It has been more than a while now,” Carlos replied, his stern expression softened with a soft smile on his face. Celia couldn’t help but chuckle knowing it was true. Normally girls her age would be wed off since the age of six and ten while now Celia was turning twenty, she couldn't deny the efforts her brother put for her to be happy.

“I do not wish to throw my sister around for the highest bidder as well. But it is your duty to our house. More importantly when you know I cannot occur it myself.” Carlos pressed once more and Celia met his gaze. His dark eyes were soft, almost broken and filled with sadness. She was reminded why it must be so. Two years ago, Carlos had lost his beloved to a tragic accident. Grief drove him mad enough as he tried every possible way to bring her back from the death. House Lairwyn’s belief lay upon the power of nature and spirit. Commander of death they were, but death had no compromises, and Carlos was mad enough to negotiate.

Unfortunately nothing he did could ever bring his wife back, but consequences followed anyway. One night Carlos had dreamed. He dreamt of his beloved dead wife in her wedding gown, beautiful and bright as ever. She whispered to him, a softly faint voice that he once adored.

Death had no compromises, Carlos. You have put your fate in the hands of death, and now you shall bear no heirs because of it.

Carlos never saw his wife ever again, as he was sure her words were true. Even if they weren’t, the lord of Bloodstone had no intention of taking anymore wives anyway.

“I understand,” Celia finally said after a long moment of thought. It seemed she had no choice anyway and she knew better to not disobey so. Carlos only nodded as the conversation was settled. He dismissed her, leaving himself into consideration of the letters that would decide their fates.

In the meantime at Dragonstone, Queen Rhaenyra was growing impatient. The letter that was sent days before must reach Bloodstone by now, and yet there was no sign of response from the lord of Bloodstone himself.

“Has there been news from Bloodstone, my lords?” Queen Rhaenyra’s voice stern and demanding as her violet gaze darted through the faces of the lords in her council. Silence befell them when they had no answer. After a few moments of lords glancing between each other, Maester Gerardys spoke up. “Unfortunately no, your grace. Lord Carlos hasn’t responded to our message,” he bowed lightly, knowing the information would not please their queen. “Has their house pledge loyalty to the usurper?” Rhaenyra asked again, clearly distressed over the matter.

“No, your grace. It seems that the Greens do not hope for their house as much. House Lairwyn rarely participates or gets involved in wars. Therefore, they are no threats for them even if they give no answer.” Maester Gerardys replied as he was certain. Rhaenyra sighed in frustration, “But I do hope for them to be on our side. We need as many alliances as possible. If one house is lacking and does not pledge their loyalty to mine, then who am I to rule the kingdom?” the queen’s voice stern and true, she was right. If of all the noble houses sworn to her except one, how could she be the queen of its kingdom? No matter if they were on the opposite side or not.

The lords of the queen’s council all nodded in agreement. Rhaenyra paused briefly to think of the solution but then her son, prince Jacaerys, spoke up. “House Lairwyn is in the Riverlands, their overlord is house Tully. I will go there and treat with them myself,” he suggested, looking at his mother and queen in expectation. As he hoped for her to allow the suggestion to be done. “No, you cannot go there by yourself,” Rhaenyra insisted, earning an argumentative expression from Jace. But before he could continue, Rhaenyra cut him off, turning her attention back to her lords. “Send words to the nearest house in our alliance. Have them press over the matter forward in the name of their queen, and if refused let us know. We shall deal with them by ourselves,” Rhaenyra ordered her councilors firmly. Her eyes darted around looking for any more questions from her lords. As one raised a hand, Rhaenyra turned to him, “The nearest house to Bloodstone is house Blackwood, your grace,” the lord informed, earning an acknowledgement hum from his queen.

“Then make sure they understand not to wage war before my commands as they please.”

“You called for me, uncle?”

“Come, nephew. I have a task for you,” lord Samwell gestured to his nephew, who was standing before the open-large door, to approach further into the hall. When Raventree Hall received a raven from their queen Rhaenyra this morning, lord Samwell Blackwood had summoned his eldest nephew — Davos Blackwood — into the hall immediately.

Davos stepped in as his uncle had told. He looked at his uncle who sat behind the large table with doubt painted on his face, almost uncertain. “What do you wish me to do?” the young lord asked. Normally when it came to important businesses, especially from the queen. Davos believed it to be handed to his other uncle, Willem, as he was older and had the maturity to manage anything with a slightly more composure than his hot-headed self.

“Words from Dragonstone. Queen Rhaenyra wants us to go to Bloodstone and meet with lord Carlos Lairwyn. Induce him and his house to declare for our queen,” lord Samwell explained, handing the unsealed letter to his nephew. “Have they not pledged?” Davos wondered, earning a simple nod from his lord uncle. “Is there anyone alive in that ghastly castle anyway?” the young lord commented, almost scoffing. Just like everyone else, Davos had heard rumours of house Lairwyn ever since he was a little boy. Words spreaded all over the riverlands of how their strange nature and mystery lived inside of their castle, and how out of touch they were to the world.

If the Targaryens were gods, then the Lairwyns were death. Dragging men down the afterlife to nourish themselves with their nefarious rituals.

As mad as it sounded, he didn’t dare to question the queen’s order as he understood her objective. She must gain as much support as she could to win this war. No matter if one house was lacking from her banners.

“Lord Lairwyn and his sister dwell in the castle. Just the two of them,” lord Samwell heralded while his eyes watched Davos with anticipation. “You will bear this honour while you uncle Willem is occupied with something,” he added, his voice proud with expectation. Davos’ gaze shot up to meet his uncle’s before slowly nodding in acknowledgment. “Of course, uncle. I shall leave and return with our queen’s glory at once.”

When dusk came, Davos and two of his men finally arrived at the infamous Bloodstone castle. The distance between the two castles was not very far, but due to the woods being their estate, the travel seemed to be long. When house Lairwyn’s banners came to the sight, Davos restrained their paces, taking in the rare visual of the hauntingly beautiful castle a front. Hastily, the young lord dismounted himself and marched his steps to the gate before he spotted an old lord appearing from behind the door. “Who are you?” the old lord called, his voice hoarse and a cough almost slipped out as he shouted. Davos stepped closer to give the old lord a clearer vision at himself and the sigil that was pinned upon his chest.

“We’re here on the queen’s behalf,” proclaimed Davos as his men dropped to their feet, following their lord behind. House Blackwood’s sigil displayed proudly on their cloaks. The old lord finally noticed them as he slowly stepped back behind the door. Not long after, the wooden gate opened widely, allowing their visitors to enter inside. As the three men began walking into the courtyard, a bat aggravatingly disturbed them by flying over their heads then landing itself upon the back of Davos’ horse. Its red eyes stared into his dark ones with curiosity before launching off as soon as his horse started to neigh loudly in discomfort, alerting the guest on its back. The former old lord came in and introduce himself before leading Davos and his men into the castle await.

As soon as his steps entered the castle hall, Davos could suddenly feel the thick cold air inside. It gave him eerie goosebumps, as if somebody was breathing into his neck.

“Welcome to Bloodstone, my lord,” Davos snapped his head back startled when a man’s voice broke the silent in the cold hall. Behind him stood a man lean and tall, his hair black as raven feathers. He was dressed in black attire from head to toe in contrast of his pale skin. Davos eyes met who he assumed was lord Carlos Lairwyn, the head of the house.

“Lord Carlos,” Davos started, bowing his head lightly in courtesy as the Bloodstone lord returned his gesture. “And you must be..” Carlos’ voice trailed off as wait for him to finished his sentence through introduction. “Davos Blackwood,” he replied simply, earning a low hum from lord of Bloodstone. “No need to be in paranoia, lord Davos. My house welcomes you,” Carlos assured the younger man as he well aware of his own reputation. Davos only nodded in reply but deep down he was, in fact, still very much in paranoia. “I assume you’re here because of your queen’s trouble?”

“Is your queen as well, lord Carlos,” Davos interrupted, his eyes glare at the lord in front, “as soon as you declare yourself to her this nightfall.” Carlos’ lips perked up in a smirk. As irritating as it may seem, Carlos admired the Blackwood lord devotion towards his monarch. But before he could reply the door opened once again, this time entered a young lady who seemed to be in trouble.

“Your suggested lord would not close his mouth. I had to contain myself to not cut open his heart out with my bare hands—” the lady in question stomped her feet making her ways towards her brother, clearly did not noticed the presence of newcomer in the room. As instinct Davos peered at the lady who just entered, which he assumed was lord Carlos’ sister. Admittedly, he felt his face paled at the mention of somebody’s wish to rip one's heart out. Grunting with such annoyance until she was restrained by her brother’s gaze that gestured to the visitor in this room. A small exclaimed left Celia’s mouth as soon as she noticed the young lord in the room. If she did not know better, she would think Carlos was embarrassed by her obstreperous. But judging from his smirk that was not the case.

“Do forgive my sister, she tends to be tempestuous,” Carlos’ gaze shift back to his sister in discipline, making her inhaled in offense. “This is lord Davos Blackwood. He came on our queen’s behalf,” lord of Bloodstone emphasized the word almost in sarcasm, earning a glare once again from Davos. “And this is my sister, lady Celia.” Davos’ eyes met hers at the introduction. He couldn’t help but stare, taking her in as she did scan him from head to toe as well. But Davos’ stare was interest, almost marveled while Celia’s was somewhat judgmental. Celia resembled her brother in every way as far as Davos noticed. They shared the same hair color as well as their eyes. While Carlos was pale, Celia seemed to be less in that. Davos assumed she was probably the one who left the house more.

“We've met already,” Celia responded as soon as she finished studying the young lord. Before Davos could query, Carlos cut him off. “About the queen’s matter, lord Davos, what could we do to please her grace?” Celia watched the pair of them exchanged prideful glare, before setting herself next to her brother. “Simple as it sounds. Declare your house as queen Rhaenyra’s supporter or you shall meet consequences,” Davos demanded, his posture straight as his head was high. Celia could tell that he was a very dauntless man through the way he carried himself around. Arrogant, yes, but craven? – no.

“What does her grace desire apart from our sigil on her banners?” This time it was Celia who spoke. Davos’ gaze shifted to her as she stepped forward. Her dark eyes still watched him intensely. “If war should come, we have no more than sixty men under our control to offer,” Celia crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for Davos’ answer. If the queen sent him on her behalf, he must able himself as wisely. Not longer than a moment, lord Blackwood replied, “If you worry about your bannerman, I can assure you my lady, we have more than enough. As well as the dragons—”

“The dragons are… none of our concern,” Carlos interrupted, a serious expression displayed on his face. “What I, as the lord of Bloodstone and head of house Lairwyn, am concerned of is that if it’s not just our men that lose but ourselves as well, would it be worth our allegiance?” Carlos’ eyes dark and Celia felt herself stiffed at the mention of the well-being of their bloodline. At that, Davos found himself at a loss of answer. From what his uncle had told, house Lairwyn had only two remaining members left. The lord of Bloodstone himself seemed to be unmarried as well as his sister.

Lady Celia Lairwyn was unmarried — not yet at the least. Davos had noted to himself.

“The hour is late, lord Davos. I will have my servants prepare your chambers for the night. We shall discuss this matter again when morning comes,” Carlos did not wait for Davos’ answer, he dismissed himself and exited the room at once. Leaving Davos in the middle of the room alone with Celia. He could notice the lady’s dissociation as she stared into nothing, probably considering the terms. Not for long Celia finally broke her silence before leaving.

“Just so you know, lord Davos. I do mean it when I said I wish to rip his heart out,” Celia’s eyes met him and she could see his jaws tightened. “Have a good night. I shall hope you’ll rest well.”