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goldeunoias · 1 year ago

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Favorite Student.

WARNINGS: YES THIS IS PROFESSOR AND STUDENT FUCKING IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT. both of yall are adults i think like 22 and 28 or something like that so it's not like the worst of the worst but yes. there are power dynamics blah blah, sunghoon is massive pervert, ITS ALL FICTION YALL

um includes....perverted sunghoon, eating out, teasing, pet names, sex in an office, fingering, it's me so ya know

Synopsis: A class you'd hated, but a professor you'd always admired...

A/N: DAISY BACKKKKK

SUNGHOON STANS ARE THE BESTTTTT at writing and giving me anons and feedback and comments and reblogs which is why I will always spoil them bc they treat me the best <333. next fic is a heeseung one sooo if you want more heeseung content make sure to give that one as much love too when it comes out!

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He was the meanest professor around, bar none.

But in your current predicament, he was the only professor left for the class you needed to take, unless you wanted to wait and thus delay your graduation by a whole semester.

That's how you found yourself standing outside his office, swinging back and forth on your heels, trying to get the courage to go in and ask him for help on the chapter that seemed like no one in your class was getting, you included.

"What are you doing standing outside my office?"

At the sound of his voice you jumped and turned around, heart racing in your ears as you tried to give him some eye contact; ultimately failing miserably.

"U-Um, I needed help with chapter 14 in the textbook and no one in my section really got it either so I figured I'd stop by-"

"Did you look at the lecture notes?"

"Y-yes sir."

"The supplemental videos?"

You nodded again.

Dr. Park sighed and moved past you to unlock his office door, letting the door swing shut past you as you walked in. The vibes of his room was austere to say the least and you couldn't tell if anyone had ever sat in the chair across from him given how spotless and un-creased it was.

Well, first time for everything.

"So what are you needing help with? Do you have any notes or something?"

"U-uh yes sir, give me a sec," you stuttered out as you fidgeted with your bag to pull out your laptop, showing him all that you had done.

He leaned on his side of the thick oak desk so he could get a closer look at what you had done, the closer proximity causing cologne you could only surmise to be expensive filling your nose. You fidgeted in your seat and moved some to lower your skirt as it rode up, trying to think of something to fill the awkward silence as he scrolled through what you had done.

Luckily, he beat you to it.

"Well, it's not the worst thing I've seen." He sighed, taking off his glasses and pointing to your screen. "You still aren't understanding the basic concepts of this chapter yet and it's reflecting in your notes. You see this summary outline you wrote here is-"

Your eyes absentmindedly drifted to his alabaster forearms that were shown from the rolled up sleeves of his button up, thick large hands scrolling on your keyboard. His jaw and nose were sharp too and from the closeness you could make out his dark lashes, usually hidden by the thick framed glasses he wore.....

You were jolted out of your thoughts when he snapped his fingers in front of your face, eyebrows knitted in annoyance at you wasting his time by daydreaming.

"If you're going to come to my office I would think you'd listen to what I have to say," Sunghoon said through a clucked tongue.

You looked down and immediately apologized profusely, feeling tears well in your eyes. You weren't the best with scolding you never had been, but to have someone who was already not in the best of moods have it become worse because of you only made you more sensitive.

He looked at you from across the desk, a grown girl with mannerisms like that of a meek fawn.

A prey.

You swallowed thickly as he stood up and leaned over the desk, strands of mahogany hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Hey hey, don't cry, we'll work through it together mmkay? You're a smart girl aren't you?"

It was a voice you'd never heard him use on anyone, and it made the hairs on your neck stand up and your legs squirm as he held your chin.

"I'm sorry it's just this is one of my final classes I need to graduate and everything is hard and I don't want to waste your time-"

"Aw, princess don't stress, don't stress," he cooed. The sweet and gentle tone of his voice was causing you to melt into his touch, wondering how someone who usually only spoke in stern curt sentences could produce such sounds.

You couldn't stop bouncing your legs and squirming in your seat as his fingertips stroked the underside of your chin softly, making soft shushes and coos at you to calm your nerves.

Fuck, he wanted to ruin you.

But he had to wait for you to make the move. He was in the precarious position and even though he could see in your gaze that you were begging for it, you were going to have to show him.

A little teasing should do the trick.

"Here, we have some time before the next test don't we? Start coming by my office everyday and we can work through this unit together so you won't have to worry alright" he offered up, sitting back down in his office chair with a soft smile on his face.

You sniffled and nodded at the premise before rushing out a plethora of "thank you"s to him, unable to stop the tingling on your chin from where he had touched you as he left........

_________________________________

"Here sweetheart move your chair over to my side of the desk so you can get a better look at my screen," he offered up, moving his chair over some to make some room.

"O-okay sure," you agreed, the name "sweetheart" ringing throughout your head. Had he always used that nickname for you? Or was he just using it as a coverup for forgetting your name? Whatever the reason, your mind was spinning in circles at the gentle way he said it.

“Cmon, you can come a little closer than that, I don’t bite ya know”, he hummed, pulling your chair closer to his. You nodded because you didn’t trust your voice and your mind couldn’t stop wandering to how large his hands looked as he pointed out errors in the extra assignments he’d given you, talking you softly through each one.

"Does that make sense?" he inquired gently, placing his head on your thigh and squeezing it. The contact made you jolt in your skin and you gulped before profusely nodding, truly able to grasp just how large his hands were as they sat on your plush thigh.

"Good girl, see you had no reason to be so worried, your work is been improving exponentially".

"T-thank you sir. I have to go to my next class now...." you trailed off awkwardly, fidgeting in your seat.

He smiled and stood up, waiting for you to do the same before escorting you to his door.

"Of course. Same time tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, scurrying out of his office. You made a b-line to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face, wondering if there was anything that gave away just how flustered you truly were in his proximity.

How can someone be so cute? Sunghoon hummed to himself as he sat at his desk, fiddling with his pen. His own hand still buzzed with excitement at how soft and warm your thigh was, and his mind couldn't help but trail further down a rabbit hole.

For the next month it seemed Sunghoon had only gotten friendlier and friendlier: you found out that he had a dog which he adored and would bring to the office if he was allowed to, that he had a younger sister, used to compete in sports (which you could attribute to his frame), and really liked fashion.

All the while, Sungoon used every opportunity to get you used to his touch; the stroking of your ear during one session, the soft touch of your shoulder the next. Every time you'd jolt before absentmindedly melting into it, and before you knew it you find yourself craving his touch.

You didn't dare your friends or anyone around you of your extra tutoring sessions, or that his hands were somehow find themself on yours. Surely you should be disgusted at yourself instead of electrified by the touches he leaves on you right?

But those thoughts would always disappear every time you walked into his office.

"So sorry I'm late!" you rushed out as you stepped into his office, panting from having sprinted up the stairs to get here.

Sunghoon looked up from the papers at his desk and smiled, flickering his head to come sit down.

"It's okay sweetheart don't worry," he hummed, trying to pull his eyes away from the sheen the shone on your neck.

"I've been so frazzled lately I hope you're not too mad at me being late," you rushed out, practically stumbling over to sit down in your chair.

He hummed and stared at your plush thighs that clung to the leather of the chair and watched as you shifted to prevent them sticking, getting flustered when you saw he was watching you.

"Sorry, I'm a bit sticky it's a bit warm outside, s-should I just stand instead?" you offered up quickly, standing up and fixing your sundress.

"Why don't you sit on my desk instead then? Here let me move these papers out of you way-"

"W-won't I get the desk dirty since I'm all sweaty" you interjected, heart racing as he cleared his desk off for you, making space so you'd have no choice but to sit right in front of his chair.

"Don't worry about it, now be a good girl and come sit," he cooed, giving you eyes that almost dared you to disobey him. Quickly you went over and sat on his desk, swallowing thickly when Sunghoon began massaging your calves as he removed your shoes.

"Poor baby rushed over to our tutoring session, your legs must be exhausted and aching," he soothed, tender hands working into the soft flesh of your skin.

"Only s-slightly, it's fine I"m used to it," you excused, squirming as Sunghoon leaned closer to your skin. "Is this something a professor should be um...doing, I mean I know we've gotten close b-but.." you trailed off, yelping when Sunghoon dragged his lips against your knee.

"Then tell me to stop kitten," he taunted, kissing the inner of your thighs as he slid off your other shoe, looking up at you through framed lenses.

"You're not stupid baby, your test grades prove that well enough. Surely you kept coming to our lessons hoping it'd end up like this," he continued, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he pulled you closer against his face.

"I...I don't know," was all you could muster out, toes curling as he softly kissed your inner thighs. Sunghoon chuckled under his breath and stood up, pushing you down onto his desk as he took of his glasses.

The air was knocked out of you for a second as you lay splayed on the desk, the cool hardwood being a stark contrast to your sticky skin.

“It’s okay baby,” he leaned in, licking the sweat from your neck. “It’s okay to say you like doing perverted things with me. Go on, tell your professor how much you like it”, he cooed, rubbing your puffy clit with his thumb.

You whined as felt something tightening in your tummy, mustering up the courage to speak.

“I-I like it”, you choked out, your toes curling in your tube socks as you started to feel how thick his fingers really were.

“Awww, give me more than that yeah? Tell me exactly what you like.” He couldn’t help himself. He wanted you to profess all types of profanities through hazy eyes and shaky legs, for you to beg to be ruined and defiled by him.

“I like..doing perverted things with you.” You felt your face burn as you stumbled your way through the sentence, rutting your hips into a feeling that only got tighter.

“Aw you do? Well in that case let me teach my princess all the perverted things we can do together..." he trailed off, squeezing the side of your thighs.

"Good girl~, such a good girl~" Sunghoon cooed, lifting up the hem of your sundress. "Cute panties," he drawled as his index finger slid down the slit, pressing against the sticky wet patch. "Mind if I keep them?"

You couldn't help but buck your hips into the feeling as you nodded without a second thought, your nails digging into the gloss furnish of his desk.

"Sweetheart you shouldn't agree to everything I say," he spoke, cupping your heat in his hand and massaging it. You gripped onto his shoulders instead and whimpered into his chest as you felt trickles of wetness soak your cotton underwear, meak "I'm sorry"s leaving you.

"It's okay, it's okay, don't apologize. It's just," he moved the hair covering your ear with his mouth before kissing against it, letting out deep groans as he rutted himself against you.

"there are some bad people out there, waiting to take advantage of pretty young girls like you. Are you going to spread your legs for everyone?"

"No, it's j-just because it's...you," you whimpered against his chest.

Sunghoon sucked air through his teeth as his self control unraveled at the seams.

"Because it's me?" he inquired, kneeling down so he was eye-level with your soaked core, messing with the hem of your panties.

"Wait Ihaven'tshoweredso-" your legs shook around his head as his tongue pressed against the soaked wet patch of your underwear, groaning at the taste that trickled onto his tongue.

"Is that why you taste and smell so sweet princess?" He groaned, pulling your underwear down without a second thought to expose yourself barren to him, his cock twitching in his pants at how sticky you already were.

"Here hold my hand sweetheart, squeeze it as hard as you like," he cooed as he offered up his free hand to you. You obliged immediately and squeezed his digits as his other free hand rubbed softly against your swollen clit, leaving light kisses on the puffy bud.

You let out meek "I'm sorry"s as your nails dug into the alabaster skin of his hand, struggling to keep yourself still as you felt the warmth of his lips wrap around your clit before sucking softly.

"It's okay princess, just sink into the feeling, I'm going to make you feel so so good," he groaned between your legs. You nodded and felt your eyes flutter into the back your head as you felt every ridge of his tongue against your entrance, saliva mixing with arousal as he lapped up everything you gave him.

The pleasure only increased as he wantonly hummed around your bud, Sunghoon drunk off of how sweet and syrupy you tasted on his tongue.

Sunghoon was doing his best to not just pin you to the desk and fuck the daylights of you, not understanding how someone could be so intoxicating. Every thing from your little gasps of air to the whimpers you were trying to hide in your throat were making him dizzy, desperate even.

"Your hole is twitching every time I suck your clit princess," Sunghoon remarked as he came up for air, licking his lips clean. "It must want something in it huh?" he drawled, sliding two thick digits into you. Your back arched off the desk as you felt the tight stretch between your legs, your hands going to squeeze his wrist you whimpered.

"Oh no no baby, don't try to move away from it. Take it like a good girl, like my favorite student would," Sunghoon praised as he scissored his fingers inside of you, chuckling at how droplets of arousal leaked out.

Hearing him say you're his favorite student made your heart thrum in excitement, your thighs tensing up when the pads of his fingers pressed down against the spongy part of your walls.

"Pull your sundress down and play with your chest for me princess," Sunghoon ordered gently as he moved to the skin of your neck, infatuated with how he could feel your heart beating through his kisses. "Do it like how you do it when you're in your bed all alone, fingers between your legs..." he whispered against your ear, unable to hide his grin.

Your body felt unbearably hot as you whimpered and complied, pulling down the straps of your sundress and moving your bra. Your legs inexplicably shook as you tugged the pert buds, biting down on your lip as Sunghoon sped up the pace of his fingers.

Sunghoon made a mental note of your movements so he could replicate them next time, his mouth getting hungry as his mouth encircled a free nipple.

You spasmed slightly at his movements as you felt his coarse tongue suck and lick around the sensitive skin, making a point to hold eye contact with you any time your stare met his. Coupled with the gushing sounds he heard between your legs only got more turned on, leaving deep marks on your chest he was sure would last for days.

He couldn't help it, he was getting impatient, desperate to have you whimpering out his name and begging for him to ruin you in this godforsaken sundress.

"Fuck~ you're gonna get me in so much fucking trouble," Sunghoon groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his fingers. "I'm sorry baby but I can't let you come from just some fingering now can I?" he teased.

The eyes you gave him almost broke him down right there as he pulled out his digits and sucked them clean, unbuckling his belt with the other. On any other occasion he'd love to have you on your knees trying to fit him in your soft mouth, but his patience for that was long gone.

Your eyes enlarged as you watched his member spring free and press against his lower abdomen, Sunghoon hissing through his teeth as he stroked the reddened tip.

"Don't worry princess, we're gonna make it fit okay? Even if you are this tight," he reassured teasingly, kissing your temple as he pinned both your hands in one of his.

"Y-you don't need a condom" you choked out.

Sunghoon raised brows and chuckled at the fact such a statement could come from such a timid mouth of yours, ripping it with his teeth and putting it on regardless.

"Mmm of course I do sweetheart," he cooed, rubbing his length between your folds. Even through the condom you could feel how warm and heavy his member felt between your legs, your mind racing at the fact that you were going to have sex with your professor.

"Besides, if I came inside would you be able to keep my load inside you like a good girl? We can't have a mess in my office now can we?" he drawled in your ear, pushing his thick tip past your walls. You already felt a stretch that was incomparable to his fingers and started struggling against his grip, Sunghoon only laughing at you and tightening his hold even more.

"Shhhh don't run princess, don't run, this is how it feels to be fucked by a real man yeah? No college guy could find my baby's special spot like I could," he soothed, finding it so cute how you sucked on your bottom lip to cope with the stretch.

You raised your head slightly to discover that he was only halfway in, despite how full your lower belly felt. When Sunghoon saw your widened eyes he could only pout at you, finding you absolutely adorable.

And adorable things deserved to be ruined.

"Here princess, kiss me yeah?"

Shakily you reached up some and connected your lips with his, jolting against his mouth as Sunghoon had taken the opportunity to push himself to the hilt.

"P-professor" was all you could whine out as you felt your mind go dazy, Sunghoon using the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours.

"You're doing so good, taking all of me princess, such a good girl," Sunghoon praised softly in between kisses. He knew once he started moving his hips you'd be a goner, already evident by how dazy your eyes looked when he stared into them.

You felt his tip push against the entrance of your cervix and you couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, biting down on Sunghoon's shoulder to cope with the heavy sensation in your tummy.

"Hello? Mr. Park are you in your office?"

Your eyes widened and you went to move to hide, recognizing the voice as your fellow classmate. Sunghoon only laughed at your attempts and pinned your wrists, giving you a "shh" motion as he continued pressing his hips against yours.

"Yeah, I'm here. However if my door is closed that means office hours are also closed correct?" he tsked, sucking a breath between his teeth as you clenched down around him.

Despite his seemingly calm composure you had your mouth squeezed shut feeling a tight knot start to form.

Your legs shook as you tried tapping his wrist with your bound hands, Sunghoon cooing at you softly and kissing your cheek.

"I know you're close baby, I know I know, just hold out for a bit longer mmkay? I'll take care of you, I will."

You could only nod as your face scrunched up from holding back your moans, desperately wondering why this student was so keen on getting into the office of one of the most stubborn people alive.

"I know, but there's this problem I really-"

"Rules are rules" he interjected, taking out his point on you by an extra forceful snap of his hips. Yours nails digged into your own skin as you tried to follow your professors wishes and hold out just a bit longer for him, softly whispering his name to garner his attention.

“Just a bit longer,” he shushed warmly, kissing your temple as he listened to the footsteps outside the door. Sure enough there was a sigh, followed by the sound of sneakers against the tile floor and the student walked away, Sunghoon relinquishing his grip on you and slowly speeding up his hips.

“P-Professor my tummy," was all you could manage out, squirming as you felt the knot get tighter.

"Mmm, you feel the pressure building right here?" Sunghoon couldn't help but tease, firmly pushing down on your lower belly. Your nails left red marks down his back and chest as you gasped at the feeling, mind slowly entering a point of incoherence.

You hazily nodded and felt your toes curl as Sunghoon peppered your neck with open mouth kisses, unable to stop himself from marking you.

"I'm close too princess, hold on just a bit longer for me and we can come together yeah? C'mon, I know you can," Sunghoon purred as his hips only sped up faster, raising your lower back slightly make sure he hit your spot every single time.

You could only hold your breath and scrunch your face as you tried warding off the feeling that was only getting stronger. Sunghoon's own resolve had withered away as he bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the groan that would be heard by the whole hallway, sweat on his entire body as you squeezed down on him like a vice.

"Fuck~ princess, go ahead and let loose for me."

You felt your mind go blank as the knot snapped tighter than you were anticipating, having to suppress your moans by burying yourself into Sunghoon's neck as liquid gushed from between your legs and your walls pulsed around sporadically.

Sunghoon's came shortly thereafter by burying his face in your own neck, his breathing ragged and uneven as he lay shaking on top of you.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you and your mind started swimming at what you'd just done and the mess you'd just made, knowing that if your ancestors were ever to watch you they'd hang their heads in shame.

Yet, that didn't stop you from wanting to do it again.

"Professor," you began, refusing to make eye contact with him after what you'd just done.

"Mmmm yes sweetheart?" Sunghoon cooed as he slowly pulled out, his collarbones and forehead glistening with sweat as he hid the evidence.

"Next time, I-I wanna do it...at your place," you offered up. This was a dangerous and well, a fireable request, you both knew that. However, that didn't stop Sunghoon from bending down to kiss your collarbones and chin, beaming it with happiness.

"I think I'd quite like that arrangement princess."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fanfic

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pennyellee · 4 months ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of 'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?"

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled.

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.”

You only smiled wickedly into his lips.

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively.

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

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urfriendlywriter · 1 year ago

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'okokok x lalala' love prompts:

(req by @fordo-wifey | usually I'd be like 'me when' or 'god, when is it my turn' but nowadays.. > < feel free to usee n yall better be tagging ME!!! i love LOVE love reading yalls stuff :) )

adoring whenever the other person snuggles closer and talks about their day

the talkative person lighting up an entire room with their personality and their silent partner proudly watching them <3

"do you want to just rant, or do you want me to give you a solution?"

the lalala person defending their okokok partner when they don't defend themselves.

"oh.. this is.. the wrong order.. it's fine-" "excuse me, yeah, you got my partner the wrong order, could you please get the right one? thank you :)"

"you've been too quiet today, what's on your mind, sweetheart?"

"i feel like i talk too much sometimes..." "love, my dear, it is when you remain silent, the world becomes deafening to me. so please, don't ever think that."

"i see you. i see you, always have, always will." "oh." (my bff said this to me. i cRIED)

the quiet person looking a bit too down and their loud partner doing everything in their ability to cheer them up

orr the loud person losing their shine and the quiet person's world is crumbling down

picking up on each other's mannerisms and when the loud person sees their introverted partner do something out of character, they smilee endeared <333

when the quiet person opens up to their partner, they are ready to embrace them and be all ears for their love ::))

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cheollollipop · 5 days ago

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green sector. | k. mingyu

genre: fluff. angst. smut (18+ MDNI)

wc: 4.7k

content warning(s): fast driving, smutty smut smut. pet names, reader shoves mingyu (out of love), breast play, oral (f! receiving), please lmk if i forgot anything!

🏁 author’s note!

loved f1 mingyu so much i decided to continue. this story takes places two years after pole position . this’ll probably be the end of this story so i wanted to give yall an even more happier ending for mingyu and reader. i hope you enjoy this as much as you all enjoyed the first one! and if you haven’t read it, please check it out <3 happy reading.

The Proposal wasn't subtle.

Not with Mingyu. Never with Mingyu.

He rented out the entire rooftop of the Park Hyatt Tokyo.

I thought we were there for a sponsor dinner. I'd slipped into a navy silk dress, hair swept into a low bun, heels echoing against polished floors as he led me through the hotel like he didn't already have a diamond ring burning a hole in his pocket.

When the elevator doors opened on the 52nd floor, I knew something was off.

No guests. No tables. Just a private pathway of soft lanterns and white roses, a string quartet tucked into the corner playing the instrumental version of my favorite song, and Mingyu grinning, nervous, stunning in a black velvet tux, reaching for my hand like he'd waited his whole life for this moment.

"Is this...?" I asked, voice already trembling.

He nodded. "Yeah."

I stepped onto the rooftop with him, the Tokyo skyline glittering behind us like a million stars had fallen just for us. There were candles everywhere. Soft light. A breeze that caught the hem of my dress.

"I thought about doing this where we first met," he said, slipping his hands into mine. "But we've been through too much. And you deserve the best."

He knelt then.

Right there, on imported Italian tile, with the city holding its breath around us.

"I want every version of you. The brave one. The scared one. The one who holds the world together even when she's breaking," he said, voice shaking. "And if you'll have me, I'll spend the rest of my life proving that forever doesn't have to be terrifying."

The ring was custom. Pear cut. Set in platinum with two tiny stones on either side, one for him, one for me.

I didn't cry. I sobbed.

And when I said yes, the sky lit up behind us, yes, actual fireworks and he kissed me like a man who had something to lose and wasn't willing to risk it.

⸻

The Wedding was in Florence.

Because nothing else would do.

We flew in two weeks early. Took over an entire vineyard estate. Thirty five rooms. Custom menus. A wedding planner who had previously done work for literal royalty. White glove everything.

My dress had a twenty foot train. A cathedral veil. Hand sewn crystals. I walked down the aisle to a string version of Debussy's Clair de Lune, escorted by my mother and the memory of my father.

Mingyu looked like sin in a cream tuxedo with black satin lapels. Hair slicked back. Jaw set.

He cried the second he saw me.

Hell, everyone did. Dokyeom handed Mingyu a tissue. Minghao lost it entirely. Jihoon pretended not to.

Our vows? We had to pause halfway through because I couldn't breathe.

"I've seen every version of you," he said. "The broken one. The furious one. The one too afraid to say she loved me. And I still chose you. I will always choose you."

We kissed under a rain of ivory petals. Doves were released. Champagne poured like waterfalls.

Our reception was candlelit under a grand tent in the olive groves. Seven courses. A live jazz band. Late night espresso martinis served with hand painted macarons that had our initials on them in gold.

And when we had our first dance, it wasn't practiced. It was messy. Clingy. He kept kissing me between spins, and I kept laughing into his shoulder, thinking

This. This is everything.

⸻

The Honeymoon we went straight from Italy to the Maldives.

Private villa. Overwater. Glass floors. Champagne on ice when we landed and a butler who knew not to disturb us unless it was an emergency, or breakfast.

He booked fourteen days. Two were spent outside the villa. The rest?

Let's just say the Do Not Disturb sign didn't come off the door.

The moment we stepped inside, he let go of my hand, only to wrap both arms around my waist from behind.

"Look," he whispered against my neck, chin resting on my shoulder. His voice was low. "The floor."

Glass beneath our feet. Blue water beneath the glass. And beyond that, miles and miles of nothing but ocean and sky, fading into molten gold as the sun began to set.

"It's like we're floating," I murmured.

He kissed the back of my shoulder. "We are."

I stepped forward slowly, hand brushing over the smooth edge of the four poster bed, across the ice bucket on the table with the already sweating champagne, past the sliding doors that opened to our private deck and infinity pool.

God. This was ours.

For two weeks, this little slice of paradise was ours.

Behind me, Mingyu didn't speak. Didn't move.

I turned slowly and found him watching me with that look again. The one he'd worn the moment I stepped out during the ceremony in Florence. The one that made me feel like the center of the universe.

"What?" I asked, soft and a little shy.

His eyes drank me in. He didn't smile. Didn't blink.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, voice low. "I don't even know what to do with myself."

I walked toward him, my hands resting on his chest as he took me in his arms.

"You already married me," I teased, leaning into him. "You don't have to keep seducing me."

He tilted his head down until his mouth brushed mine. "I'm not trying to seduce you."

"No?"

"No." His hand slid down to the curve of my waist, fingers flexing gently. "I just want you."

The kiss that followed was slow. Warm. Familiar in a way that still felt like falling. His lips parted mine with ease, his tongue brushing softly against mine as he deepened it, hands tightening on my hips like he couldn't get close enough.

I sighed into him, fingers moving up to unbutton his shirt, one by one.

He let me.

"You know what I've been thinking about all day?" he murmured against my mouth, the last button slipping free.

"What?"

"This dress." He kissed down the line of my jaw. "How it clung to you in all the right places."

"Mingyu..."

"How I knew the second you put it on... that I was going to be the one to take it off."

Heat shot straight through me.

"Do it, then," I whispered.

His mouth curved into a smirk. "Say it again."

I swallowed. "Take it off."

He groaned, voice thick and reverent. "Fuck, baby. You don't know what that does to me."

He tugged the dress up slowly, exposing inches of skin with every pass. I helped him, lifting my arms as he slipped it over my head, then gasped when his hands found my bare waist and pulled me into him, skin to skin.

"No underwear?" he asked, eyebrows raised, voice wrecked.

I shook my head, already breathless.

"I'm obsessed with you," he whispered, dipping to press a kiss between my breasts. "I don't even care if we eat tonight. I just want you. Like this. All night."

"Then have me," I breathed, reaching for his belt.

His mouth met mine again, hungrier this time. Desperate.

I made quick work of his pants, and when we finally collapsed onto the bed, bare and flushed, the air was thick with salt and tension.

He hovered above me, dark eyes roaming, like he couldn't decide where to start.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his knuckles over my cheek.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Just nervous."

"Why?"

"Because it's you. Because this is real now. And because you're looking at me like you're about to ruin me."

He grinned, wicked and beautiful. "Oh, baby."

His voice dipped lower, heat curling around each word.

"I'm not gonna ruin you. I'm gonna worship you."

He kissed down my neck, over the swell of my breasts, pausing to take one in his mouth. I gasped, arching into him, hand tangled in his hair. He took his time, alternating between soft sucks and gentle flicks of his tongue until I was moaning beneath him.

"You always make those sounds for me," he murmured, lips trailing down my stomach. "No one else ever will."

"No one else gets to," I whispered.

His eyes met mine just as he settled between my thighs.

"Good girl," he said.

I gasped when his mouth met me. Hot. Wet. Tender. His tongue moved with slow precision, circling, teasing, licking until I was writhing, my legs thrown over his shoulders and my fingers clutching the sheets.

"You taste so good," he growled, voice muffled against me.

"Mingyu-" I moaned, hips rising, "Please. I need you."

He came back up, kissing my inner thighs, my stomach, my chest, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

"Say it again."

"I need you."

"Say you're mine."

"I'm yours."

He kissed me hard, aligning himself at my entrance.

And then he was inside me.

All the way. Deep. Slow. Stretching me with a fullness that had me gasping and clinging to his shoulders.

"Shit," he hissed, forehead pressed to mine. "You feel so good. You always feel so fucking good."

He started to move with long, deep thrusts that had me gasping, whining, saying his name like a mantra.

Every time he hit that spot, I shook.

Every time he kissed me, I melted.

"Open your eyes," he said. "Look at me."

I did.

"I want to see your face when I make you fall apart."

I moaned, tightening around him. "You're going to make me come."

"Good," he whispered. "I want to feel it. Let go for me, baby."

And I did.

It hit hard, shattering and full and bright, like every nerve in my body had lit up at once. I cried out his name, trembling beneath him, and he held me through it, hips stuttering until he followed, spilling into me with a loud, broken moan.

"Fuck, I love you," he breathed, kissing my shoulder. "You're everything."

I was still panting when he collapsed beside me, dragging me into his arms.

"Can I say something?" I asked, half dazed, body still tingling.

"Always."

"I want round two after a shower and a snack."

He laughed, loud and shameless. "God, I married the perfect woman."

"You really did."

The next few days, we swam in nothing but skin and salt. I wore silk robes and no makeup. He couldn't keep his hands off me and didn't try to.

Dinners were on the beach. Lobster tails and caviar and fresh coconut water from golden rimmed glasses. Mingyu surprised me with a spa day that included a gold leaf facial and diamond oil scalp massage.

One night, he ordered a stargazing cruise.

Just us. A velvet sky. And the sound of the waves against the hull while he held me in his lap and told me he'd never stop chasing the life we had, no matter what the next season looked like.

We didn't check our phones once.

We didn't need to.

We had everything we needed right there.

Then, we came home.

To racing.

To Monaco.

⸻

I always wake up first on race day.

It's a weird kind of calm. The curtains are drawn back just enough to let in the early light, casting golden streaks across our hotel room walls. The bed's warm, our legs tangled, the weight of his arm heavy around my waist.

Mingyu's breathing is steady, face soft in the quiet. He always looks younger when he sleeps. Less like the man who commands a Formula 1 car at 300 kilometers an hour and more like the boy who held my hand the day my father died.

I brush his hair back gently, thumb grazing his temple.

"Gyu," I whisper. "It's time."

He groans softly and burrows into my side.

"I just got comfortable."

"You've had eight hours to be comfortable."

"Was more like six. You wouldn't stop stealing the blanket."

I roll my eyes and lean in to kiss his forehead. "Get up, Mr. Monaco."

"Don't call me that unless I win it."

"Well then I guess I'll keep calling you fourth place."

That gets him. He huffs and stretches, eyes still closed, but grinning.

"Savage," he mutters. "Didn't think marriage made you meaner."

"It made me honest."

He finally opens one eye. "...Still love me?"

"Stupidly."

"Good," he says, already reaching for me again. "That'll come in handy when I forget to pit and nearly wreck into turn 13."

"You're not funny."

He smirks. "Not yet."

⸻

Monaco is not Monza.

Monza is loud. Brutal. Fast. Pure speed.

Monaco is precise. Surgical. There's no room for mistakes here. One missed apex and you're in the wall. No runoff. No forgiveness. Just concrete and consequences.

I feel it in my chest as we get closer to the paddock, the way the streets narrow, how the yachts rise like silver monoliths in the harbor, how every inch of this place feels tighter than it should.

I hate it. But I respect it.

Mingyu grips my hand as we step out of the car. He always knows when my thoughts are louder than I'm letting on.

"Same track," he says softly. "Different story."

"You always say that."

"And I always come back to you after, don't I?"

I nod.

That's the truth I hold onto.

⸻

He suits up while I meet with Jinho and a couple of the engineers. We go over tire strategy, timing windows, what the simulations are saying. The car's been temperamental this weekend. He qualified fifth yesterday, frustrated, but not shaken.

"He wants to push on the first stint," Jinho says, tapping his tablet. "But if it's a safety car lap ten, we'll box early. Undercut could work here."

"And if it rains?"

Jinho just sighs. "Then God's got a dark sense of humor."

I glance out at the sky. Clear for now.

Back in the garage, Mingyu's climbing into the cockpit. I wait until his helmet's on, until his gloves are secured, until everyone else has backed off.

Then I lean in, one hand on his halo.

"You drive smart," I say through the radio mic. "No hero moves."

"Yes, wife," he mutters.

"I mean it."

He lifts his visor slightly so I can see his eyes. "I'm coming back to you. No matter where I finish."

I nod once. "Good. Because I married you for your ass, not your trophies."

He laughs, shaking his head. "You're such a menace."

"Go win something."

Race Start.

It's clean. Mostly.

Leclerc takes the lead. Norris in second. Mingyu holds fifth through the first corner, staying tucked behind Sainz. The team radio crackles with updates, Jinho murmuring times in my ear.

By lap 10, the gap to the car ahead is shrinking.

"Box now?" Jinho asks me.

"No. One more lap. Tires are hanging in."

"Are you sure?"

"I know him," I say. "He needs one more lap."

And I'm right. He overtakes Sainz coming out of the tunnel, textbook. Clean.

Now he's fourth.

I watch him through the camera feed, every sector. Every turn.

My hand doesn't shake anymore. But I still hold the chain around my neck tighter than I probably should. It's my father's. It's always with me when he races.

Lap 27. A yellow flag. Someone clips the wall at Sainte Devote, but no safety car.

Mingyu keeps pushing.

Lap 30. He pits. Perfect stop. In and out in 2.4 seconds.

Lap 34.

Mingyu is still in fourth.

The entire garage is wired tight, mechanics frozen mid breath, eyes flicking between monitors. Monaco doesn't forgive mistakes. It eats hesitation for breakfast. And right now, we're one bold move away from the podium.

He's faster than Norris ahead. He knows it. We all do. But he hasn't made the move yet.

"Gap is four-tenths," Jinho says in my earpiece. "He's faster in Sector 2. Could take him out of the tunnel."

I swallow hard. "Or end up in the wall."

Jinho glances over. "You want to call it?"

I nod once. Slide the mic closer.

My voice is calm. Clear. Because it has to be.

"Mingyu."

A second of silence. Then his voice crackles in.

"Yeah."

"You're faster."

"I know."

"So what's stopping you?"

I hear him exhale, hard through the comms.

"If I dive... there's no margin. He turns in a half second late and I'm in the barrier."

"Do you trust yourself?"

Beat.

"I trust you more."

My chest tightens.

"Then listen to me."

The tunnel looms on the feed. Lights strobing across the carbon fiber of his front wing.

"Win it."

A pause.

"You sure?"

"No," I whisper. "But I married you anyway."

Another second.

Then his voice comes in low. Focused. Full of everything we've ever been through.

"I'll come back to you."

And then he goes.

Straight into the tunnel. Tires locking. The car dipping left hard, reckless, perfect. Norris doesn't even have time to cover the line. He's through.

He's third.

The garage erupts.

Jinho yells. Hands fly. Someone throws a headset.

I just sit there. Frozen. Breathing.

Lap 45. Hamilton's up next. Mingyu's front wing is practically kissing his rear tire.

"He's holding you up," I say into the mic.

"He knows it," Mingyu replies, voice raspier now. "Can I take him?"

"Only if you want a heart attack waiting in bed tonight."

He chuckles once.

"Yeah. I want the win."

"Then go get it."

And he does.

Lap 49. Mingyu fakes left in the hairpin, then flicks right, inside. It's insane. Monaco doesn't allow that kind of pass.

But he makes it.

He's second.

Leclerc's up front, crowd screaming in red and white.

I press the mic again.

"Do you want Monaco or do you want to come home?"

"I want both."

Lap 66. The move comes at Tabac. Tabac. No one overtakes there. It's suicide.

But he doesn't lift.

I can't speak. Can barely breathe.

No.

No, no, no.

"He's not gonna-" I lean forward, my breath catching. "Gyu-"

"Tabac's too narrow," Jinho mutters, alarmed now. "Tell him not to-"

But I'm already pressing the mic.

"Mingyu, don't you dare-"

"I've got it," he cuts in, voice strained but steady.

"Don't do it!" I yell, louder this time. "It's not worth-"

But he's already committed.

And I see it. I see it.

He brakes late, dances the tires across the edge of traction, and takes the lead in a cloud of disbelief.

"Jesus Christ, Gyu-"

"Still here," he pants. "Still yours."

My knees buckle. I brace a hand on the pit wall.

Jinho exhales behind me like he forgot how.

"He made it," someone says.

I don't move. I can't. My hands are shaking, my eyes wide, locked on the feed like I'm waiting for it to rewind and prove me wrong.

"YN?" His voice crackles in my headset, ragged with effort. "You still there?"

My throat burns. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"I told you I'd come back."

"I thought-" My voice breaks. "I thought you were going t-"

"I didn't."

Silence.

"I'm still here," he says quietly. "For you."

⸻

Lap 70.

He's holding the lead now. My breathing hasn't evened out. I keep my mic off. If I speak, I'll lose it.

Jinho's giving him standard updates, sector times, pressure from behind. But I know Mingyu can still feel me on the line.

Because he keeps saying things like:

"This is for her."

"Tell her I'm okay."

"She's why I brake late and stay alive."

⸻

Final Lap. Lap 78.

He's golden.

Every apex kisses his tires. Every turn flows like a man dancing with death and calling it a partner. He doesn't touch the wall. Not again.

Not once.

⸻

Lap 78. Checkered flag.

Mingyu wins Monaco.

The roar is deafening. Mingyu's name lights up the leaderboard in gold.

P1 – K. Mingyu

The garage explodes in cheers, hugs, and chaos.

I don't move.

I'm still clutching the wall like it's the only thing keeping me upright. My chest is burning, my vision blurry. He won. He won.

And he scared the hell out of me.

The car rolls into parc fermé, still steaming. He rips off his gloves, tears the helmet from his head, and before the mechanics can even swarm him, he's already moving.

Straight for me.

No interviews. No fist pumps. Just tunnel vision.

Me.

"YN!" he shouts over the noise, voice raw. "YN!"

And when he reaches me, I barely have a second to breathe before he's in front of me, sweaty, flushed, shaking with adrenaline and smiling like a man who just rewrote the universe.

"I told you," he pants, grabbing my waist like he's anchoring himself. "I told you I'd come back to you-"

I shove him.

Hard.

Right in the chest.

Not enough to hurt but enough to make him stumble.

"What the hell was that?" I choke, voice trembling. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

He blinks. "What?"

"TABAC, Mingyu? Really? You dive bombed a Ferrari at TABAC?!"

"I-" he grins, sheepish. "You told me to go for the win!"

"I didn't say almost die while trying!"

He laughs, wrapping his arms around me before I can protest, holding me tight even as I half punch his back in a fit of nerves.

"You scared me," I whisper into his shoulder. "So bad."

"I know," he says, voice quieter now. "But I had to. I felt it."

I look up at him, eyes stinging. "You're not allowed to feel anything until I give you CPR first."

He laughs again, this time, softer. "I'm okay. I'm really okay."

"I know," I murmur, resting my forehead against his. "I just needed to say it. Out loud. Because watching you risk it like that... I thought I was gonna lose you."

"You won't," he says instantly. "Not today. Not ever. I came back."

"And next time?"

"Next time," he promises, "I'll scare everyone else first."

I snort, then press a kiss to his jaw. "You better. I'm not going through that again."

"Deal," he whispers, grinning as he leans in. "But admit it. I looked hot doing it."

"You looked like a dumbass in a death trap," I shoot back, already kissing him before he can laugh again.

And when the crowd around us cheers louder, when the champagne starts popping and the reporters call his name, we stay right there.

Wrapped up in each other.

Alive.

I toss my earrings onto the marble counter, watching them spin to a stop. The bathroom light is warm, soft, and everything feels a little surreal in its stillness.

The race ended hours ago. The champagne's dried. The cameras are gone. The whole of Monaco has settled into its golden hum of post party haze.

And Mingyu?

He's in the other room, humming to himself as he unzips his race suit, trailing it off his shoulders and hanging it on the back of a chair. He's shirtless underneath, hair still damp from the podium spray, and smiling like he's got secrets tucked in his dimples.

We're in our comedown phase now.

The real life part.

The part that matters.

I pull the tie from my hair and glance at him through the mirror. He catches my eye and grins.

"What?" I ask.

He walks in behind me, hands slipping around my waist, bare chest pressing into my back. His chin rests on my shoulder.

"You looked good in the garage today," he murmurs. "All bossed up and biting your nails."

"You looked like a lunatic diving at Tabac," I deadpan, reaching for the cleanser.

He chuckles, kissing the curve of my neck. "Still got the win."

"Still shaved a year off my life."

"You married me knowing the risk."

"And yet," I mutter, squeezing product into my palm.

We brush our teeth together. Shoulder to shoulder. Married people things.

I rinse and pat my face dry while he spits and glances sideways at me.

"Back hurting?"

"A little."

He disappears into the room and comes back with the massage oil from his kit. "Turn around."

I do. He starts working into my shoulders with those warm, calloused hands slow, practiced, gentle. I melt instantly.

We don't talk.

Just soft jazz in the background from the TV we left on and the occasional Monaco breeze sneaking through the cracked balcony door.

After, I crawl onto the bed in my robe and he joins me, still in his boxers, hair tousled and eyes sleepy.

We don't need much to feel like home.

He spoons me from behind, pulling the blanket over us with a quiet yawn.

"Did I scare you that bad today?" he asks into my shoulder.

"Yeah," I admit.

"You hit me harder than the G-force."

"You deserved it."

A beat of silence.

"Would it help if I promised never to try that move again?"

"No," I say. "But it would help if you let me pick your overtakes next time, Mr. Monaco."

He snorts. "Deal."

I trace the scar near his rib, the one from last season's crash.

"You're all I have, you know," I whisper.

"I know," he says, voice low. "Same goes for me."

He kisses the back of my shoulder, his hand is in my hair, gently combing through the knots with his fingers. No words. Just the rhythm of his breathing beneath me, chest rising and falling like it has all the time in the world.

We've been quiet for a while.

It's quiet in the way that makes you feel like you're the last two people on earth. No cameras. No headlines. Just us.

Mingyu's legs are tangled with mine under the blanket. My cheek is pressed to his collarbone. His other hand is tracing the top of my spine, fingertips lazy, deliberate.

"Let's disappear," he says suddenly, voice low and scratchy against the hush.

I shift to look up at him. "Disappear?"

He nods, eyes still halflidded. "Just you and me. Somewhere warm. Somewhere no one knows my name and I don't have to put on a suit unless you ask nicely."

I smile, dragging my fingers across his chest. "Are you asking me to run away with you, Mr. Kim?"

He hums. "No. I'm telling you I already booked the flights."

My eyes widen. "You did not."

He smirks. "Villa in Crete. Secluded. Private pool. Outdoor shower. No agenda. Just us, white sheets, and whatever you want for breakfast every morning."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious."

I sit up a little, stunned. "When?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Mingyu, we just got back from-"

"I cleared it with your calendar, too," he says casually, pulling me back down against him. "Your assistant's a gem. She said you've been needing a break."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're overworked," he murmurs into my hair. "You always take care of me. Let me take care of you this time."

I'm quiet.

Because how do you even respond to that?

He turns on his side, propping his head up with his hand. "Come on. Picture it. You in a linen dress. Me in too short swim trunks. Sunsets. No emails. No calls. Just you laughing barefoot in the kitchen while I burn eggs."

I bite my lip to hide the smile. "You don't even like eggs."

"I like you. That's enough."

I groan into the pillow. "Stop saying stuff like that unless you want me to cry."

He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose. "We could take a boat out. Swim until sunset. Make love on a patio no one else can see. You can read. I'll sleep. And when you're bored, I'll cook for you."

"You'll cook for me?"

"I'll attempt. You'll laugh. We'll survive."

I shake my head, heart feeling too full. "You really booked Crete?"

"Surprise," he whispers. "I want to be selfish with you for a little while longer.”

I curl into him, kiss the corner of his mouth, and rest my forehead to his.

"Okay," I whisper. "Let's disappear."

His grin is soft. Slow. Married.

"God, I love you," he says, like it's easy.

Like it always has been.

And that night, before the world can knock on our door again, we dream in linen and lemon trees, tangled in each other and the life we're quietly building. A life that's not always loud. But full.

Exactly how we want it.

⤷ network tags: @svthub @k-films @blossomnet

･ ⟢ ⋮ svt masterlist

#svthub #k-films #blossomnet #seventeen #mingyu x y/n #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu oneshot #seventeen x f1 #f1 au

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mxnhoo · 5 months ago

Text

taste (y. jw)

✎ yang jungwon x reader synopsis you and Jungwon were drinking together, until you impulsively recommended to play spicy drinking games. he eventually agreed with your idea, and from there on you could discover something that he's been hiding from you and you decide to make it come true. genre drinking together, reader has supposedly bad drinking tolerance but actually lasted the entire way, drinking game, jungwon respects boundaries (as he should) but reader likes to push it, jungwon is shy when getting onto the spicy topics unlike reader who's bold, Hershey's chocolate syrup, teasing, not proofread warnings spicy drinking game/spicy question(s), VERY ALMOST smut (read at your own caution), very suggestive, food related (smudging on areas on the body to clean up), vivid description of licking, hickies word count 1.4k cly's note honestly writing suggestive/almost smut fics are lowkey out of my comfort zone but i wanted to give yall another one after seeing how much support dangerous got. if i wasn't so awkward with this topic, jungwon would've been more bold and confident LOL. don't think i wrote this as well as dangerous but hope yall enjoy this too!

As you finished taking a shot, you immediately gulped down the liquid in an attempt to reduce the effects that the alcohol has on you. You sighed as you felt the burning sensation in your throat, your face tensing up as you slowly felt the sensation disappear. Jungwon chuckled as he held up the alcohol bottle and poured you another shot. As the sensation in your throat fully died off, you quickly cleared your throat, "I'm done".

He gave you an approving hum and smile as he patted your back, knowing that you weren't such a good drinker unlike him. You sat back on your chair, letting your head hang over the edge as you stared into the ceiling. The room was dimly lit up by a warm light, the walls and ceiling looking more of a dark orange.

You could almost tell that feeling in your stomach was coming — y'know, that feeling when you drink a lot of alcohol. Your head was starting to feel light and as your heart starts to race, you suddenly feel like you want to do a lot of things.

"Hey!" you called out, and Jungwon's eyebrows raised, anticipating to what you were going to say next. "Drinking game, let's play," you suggested.

And that was exactly how you got even more wasted. You were panting as you felt your head spin, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. Jungwon laughed as he watched you in your drunken state, folding his arms and relaxing back on his chair, "Are you sure you can continue? I can bring you to bed now if you want".

"No!" you slammed your shot glass down onto the table, determined to prove that you could drink more, even if your boyfriend already knew damn well that you were already pass your limit. "I.. can do thiss," you mumbled, your speech already starting to slur from the alcohol.

"Y'know what?!" you exclaimed, standing up from your chair and slightly startling Jungwon and you looked at him with determined eyes, "Spicy. Let's play spicy".

Jungwon's eyes were slightly widened as he realised what you were asking for. You wanted to play spicy drinking games, and his mind has run wild, the number of things he wants to do being unlimited. His face slightly burns up at the idea and he shook his head.

"I'd love to, but-" "Wonnie!" "You're drunk, Y/N."

You pouted. "So what?!" He ran his fingers throug his hair, feeling slightly agitated. "I don't want to take advantage of that!"

You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, "I don't care. Do it".

He bit his lip, and if you were sober enough, you can physically see him lose control from the way his brows furrow and how he exhaled audibly. He was losing it. He wanted to respect boundaries, and you were tempting him.

He spoke, his voice deep. "Who was your best kiss? Me or yor ex?". You chuckled, your eyelids barely opened as you pointed at him without hesitation. "You, duh". You've slightly sobered up already since all you've been doing is answering his questions honestly, avoiding any shots.

He nodded his head in approval, trying his best to compose yourself until you continued talking. "I fucking love the way your lips ruin me whenever—".

Jungwon, with his reddened ears, covered your mouth which silenced you. You giggled as his mouth prevented you from talking, and you could hear him sigh. Though he agreed to play your spicy "Truth or Drink" game, he still wanted to respect the boundaries, but you were forcing him to push it, his self-control slowly slipping away.

He sighed as he slowly released your mouth, watching you as he slowly leaned back. "It's your turn," he furrowed his eyebrows upwards, feeling slightly shy as to what you might ask him. You've always found him adorable that he was always shy at these topics even when you and him have already done a lot.

You decided to shoot a question, "Do you have any fantasies I don't know about?".

He seemed to ponder for a second, his eyes looking empty and him pursing his lips, and just as soon as he picked up his shot glass and was about to gulp it down, you grabbed his wrist to prevent it from moving.

Your eyes were dark and determined. "What is it?" your tone sounding open, yet demanding. The tension in the air suddenly grew, the silence becoming more unbearable as you two stared into each other's eyes. He grew more nervous, gulping and pursing his lips as you could see him decide if he should tell you or not.

"It's okay, baby," you comforted him, encouraging him to be more open.

"Food" he quicky muttered. "What?" "I said food."

You looked at his face and you could tell his face was completely red, and you knew it wasn't from the alcohol. He bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows, feeling sheepish that he finally admitted something he'd been hiding.

"What about it?" "The thought of you smearing food on your naked body for me to clean up with my mouth is just.."

His whole face was a bright shade of red and he broke eye contact, afraid to see what kind of facial expression you're making to his confession. You lifted his chin up with your finger, "Let's do it".

There were two differences that were made. One being that you were now shifted into your room from the living room since Jungwon offered to carry you with his trustworthy strength and arms, and second being that you were completely bare. You hugged your legs as the cold air hit your body, waiting for Jungwon to return until you heard the door slowly creak open.

Jungwon appeared, holding the Hershey's syrup bottle you stored in your refrigerator, and at the the bare sight of you, his breath hitched. He gulped as he walked towards you, being conscious of the way you were w him wtching with pedatory gaze.

He gulped as he climbed onto the bed, his knees pressing onto the sheets, staring at you, having a flustered expression take over his facial features. No, this wasn't his first rodeo with you, but it was his first with his most hidden fantasy.

He slowly handed you over the syrup bottle, your fingers brushing his for a moment and without a moment of hesitation, you immediately started to squeeze out the syrup onto different parts of your body — your knees, outer thighs, stomach, collarbone, neck.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you being fully covered in syrup. His heart skipped a beat as he took a few seconds to scan your entire body up and down. He licked his lips and he slowly started to climb over you, eyeing the first spot that he wanted to clean up first — your knees.

His tip of his tongue flicked against your knee, the temperature difference between his tongue and your skin making you shiver. His muscle immediately started to clean you up, using various movements such as long strikes or short kitten licks. He quickly cleaned up the syrup on your knee and he started to progress to the other areas such as your outer thigh.

He sucked the skin along the way, leaving light hickies that were bright red. He slowly pushed you down on the bed as he hovered over you, a shadow forming over you, next cleaning up your stomach. You watched how his eyes fluttered close and how he took his own time to clean you up.

"Teasing me aren't you?" he mumbled as he was in the midst of cleaning up your stomach, taking a quick second to look at you. You smirked, knowing exactly what he'd meant. You'd purposefully avoided all the core parts as you wanted to leave it last.

"Be patient, will you?" you shot, enjoying how he whines and just continues.

He'd just finished cleaning up your collarbone and neck, and without taking a break, you immediately started to pour the syrup out to areas where he'd been anticipating to the most. His jaw had dropped at the breath-taking sight of you, almost believing that he was dreaming.

"How about, we start here?" you challenged as you poured the syrup on your lips, his eyes watching the syrup as it lands on your mouth and drips down your chin.

extra note GRHAUDEWFN I FEEL SO SHY THAT I WROTE THIS. OH MY GOD. okay. i hope you guys enjoyed this. I HOPE THIS WASNT TOO CRINGE THIS IS LOWK MY FIRST SMUT FIC. im gunna sleep this away GOODNIGHT.

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 4 months ago

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╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 3 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, reader has insecurities

❥ A/N: hello my lovelies! Here is part 3, i hope you enjoy 💕

"Your boyfriend is coming this way."

"Shit!" You duck behind the counter, rushing through the coffee bar and into the back room. You take a deep breath once you're back there, freezing when you hear the bell at the door ring. You glance out the back room and curse when you see him standing at the register, glancing around the coffee bar. You decide to hide in the back until he leaves.

You hear the door ring several more times, but choose to ignore it. You busy yourself with reading ingredients on bottles when your coworker suddenly rushes into the back room.

"Girl! Get your ass out here! Your boyfriend is holding up the line!"

She grabs you before you can protest, dragging you out to the work area. At the front of the line is Guy, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking to you. Your friend practically shoves you to the register, crossing her arms as she waits for you to take his order.

"Th-The usual?" you ask, fiddling with your hands.

"You haven't responded to my texts." You swallow, curling into yourself.

"I-I've been busy."

"That's a bad excuse."

"Hey buddy, hurry up!" a man behind him scolds. "I've got places to be!"

Guy turns around to stare at the shorter man. His eyes widen and he steps back, looking frightened. Guy turns back to you.

"I came here to ask you if you're free this Saturday."

"I'm busy."

"I think you're lying."

"Hey," your coworker interjects. "I'm all for you pursuing my friend here, but we gotta keep this line going." She types his order into the register. "She can take a break once this line is down and then yall can talk, okay?"

"That works for me." He pulls out his card, pays, and then walks to the pick-up area. You slump, taking the next customer's order as your coworker starts making drinks.

"Now go talk to him already. His staring is creeping me out."

You glance at Guy who's been watching you during the rush you just had. Your coworker shoves your shoulder and you sigh, taking off your apron and hanging it on the swinging door into the work station. You walk to Guy's table, sitting down across from him, defeated.

"So why haven't you texted me?" he asks, getting straight to the point. You shrug helplessly.

"I don't know..."

He leans forward, arms against the table.

"If you're not interested, I'd rather you tell me now. I don't want to keep bothering you if you hate me."

"I don't hate you..."

"Then what is it? Is it the gifts? Do you not like them? Did I come on too strong?"

"No, no... I promise it's not you."

"Then what's going on?"

You feel tears well in your eyes, and you look down to hide it.

"I'm worried you won't like me once you get to know me... I'm worried about disappointing you..."

You glance back up at him, and his expression is emotionless. You quickly wipe your eyes, sniffing.

"Do you know why I took you to dinner on the first date?" You shook your head, and he looks down at the table. "I took you to dinner because I wanted to see how you would eat in front of me."

"...Do you have some kind of fetish of something?" He scoffs, smiling.

"No. But I have been on dates with other women, and it always went the same." He draws invisible circles on the table. "They'd always order a salad, or something small, avoiding an appetizer or dessert. They would rarely finish their plate. One woman's stomach actually growled when I walked her to her car."

You snicker at that, sniffing again. He smiles at your laugh, folding his hands in front of you.

"But you didn't do that. You had an appetizer, a main course, and dessert. I loved it. I loved seeing you comfortable enough to be yourself and eat without shame. And it really solidified my feelings for you."

"Would... would you have not liked me if I didn't eat like I normally do?" He shrugs.

"A part of me would've been disappointed. I can't be with someone who can't be true to themselves, so to see the person I'm fond of limit themselves like that would have hurt." He makes eye contact with you again, sincere. "I like you, Y/N. I like your smile, your laugh, your ability to be true to yourself. You're a wonderful person, and I just want to make you happy." He straightens out, smoothing over his shirt. "But if you don't want me to pursue you anymore, I understand. I won't text you anymore, and I'll stop coming here."

You pause, chewing your bottom lip. He stares at your mouth as you do so.

"I..." You inhale deep, twisting your mouth. "I just feel like you're out of my league. Like, what if you wake up and want to date a model or some kind of influencer? I'm worried you'll get bored of me..."

He laughs at that, covering his mouth. He scratches his jaw, glancing at some artwork on the wall.

"I've dated girls like that before. Trust me: you're far more interesting than they could ever be."

You gulp, cheeks burning hot. You glance at your coworker who is glaring at you, tapping her watch.

"Oh!" You push your chair out, standing up. "I-I gotta go back to work."

"I figured." He stands up with you, grabbing your hand before you can walk away. "Do you like movies?" You hesitate, then nod. He pulls you closer; you're almost nose to nose. "Let me take you to a movie this weekend. We'll go to whatever you want to see. I'll buy a large popcorn and whatever candy you want."

You scoff, smiling softly. You feel like you could blush.

"Sure. I guess we can do that." He smiles down at you.

"Thank you."

You try to leave again, but he doesn't let go of your hand. Instead, he brings it to his lips, closing his eyes and kissing the back of your hand gently. Your heart flutters as he lets you go, grabbing his drink and turning away, walking out of the coffee shop.

You return to your post, retying your apron around your waist as your coworker walks towards you.

"Look, I'm all for yall having whatever romance shit you got going on, but could you at least not let it interrupt our work again? I got bills to pay."

You laugh, feeling lighter.

"Sure, I'll try."

#chubby reader x buff guy

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spencer-sweets · 2 months ago

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9-1-1 Fic Recs | Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

[Part 1] [Part 2]

so i am back in the trenches of this ship once again. praying for it to go canon in the next couple of seasons but i am surviving on the crumbs. i made a post before with some old recs but these are ones i have read recently.

[this rec list is incomplete and will be updated as I find more fics I enjoy - last update 4/9/25]

Bobby Versus Buddie by songbvrd (ao3) Mature 10,391 Eddie huffed out a breath. “I’m having a crisis.” And Bobby, he wasn’t proud of it, but the word ‘finally’ was flashing in front of his eyes in giant, neon yellow letters, because surely, surely this meant that he’d figured it out. Finally, at long last, Eddie was having the crisis they’d all been waiting for since he’d started a thousand emergencies earlier. Bobby waited, silent and hopeful, relieved that they’d finally gotten there. “I think I’m homophobic.” Bobby blinked at him. “I’m sorry?” OR - Five times Bobby tried to gently hold Buddie's hands and tell them they were in love, and one time they got the picture.

a cute 5+1 with bobby being done with eddie and buck. got to love the bobby and buck dynamic too.

What’s Your Love Language? by songbvrd (ao3) 18 332 “Which do you think makes you feel most loved?” Eddie thought for a long moment. Too long, maybe. Then he shrugged, “Honestly, Buck? I have no idea.” Buck’s brows pinched up. “What do you mean? When have you felt the most loved?” “Don’t make a big thing of this, Buck. Promise?” Buck made a show of crossing his heart, brows still raised curiously. “I’m not sure I’ve ever… really felt loved in a relationship? I’m not convinced that I know what makes me feel loved…” OR - After finding out that Eddie doesn't know what his love language is, Buck sets about finding out for him. He begins a five week experiment, one for each love language, to figure out which will make Eddie feel the most loved.

another great fluffy fic with some slight emotional infidelity. set in season 7 and buck decides he needs to learn how to best love eddie. spoiler: he was already doing just fine.

50 Cheeky Texts by songbvrd (ao3) 20.999 Bucklecup: I really like your moustache. it’s very girthy. really solid. Eddito: girthy????????????? Eddito: did you just text me at 7pm on a wednesday evening to tell me my moustache is GIRTHY???? Bucklecup: honestly, i’m kinda surprised you haven’t blocked me yet, eds OR - Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

awwww. tho i should warn you there is some emotional infidelity going on here but it wasn't bad enough to turn me off of the fic but i thought i'd warn yall. anyways absolutely beautiful fic that made me laugh. also love the author. unintentionally bookmarked this back to back with their prev on this list haha.

know it's for the better by hyruling for fallingthorns (ao3) Explicit 24 931 “I love you, you know.” Buck smiles, and it’s Eddie’s favorite - the one that seems to light him up from within, beautiful and too bright to look at directly for long. “Of course I know that, Eddie,” Buck replies, easy as breathing, but Eddie shakes his head. --- Or: Eddie confesses. Buck doesn't love him back, but it doesn't matter. He'll keep telling him anyway.

oblivious buck and a pining eddie. eddie confesses and buck kind of shuts down mentally over it but eddie just keeps loving him. set in season 7.

Hen Wilson's Four Part Guide To Making Your Stupid Friends Date by songbvrd (ao3) 25 010 “Okay, I know we kind of all had an unspoken rule not to talk about it, but…” “Buck and Eddie are being weird as hell?” Chim asked, sucking in a breath like he'd been holding back from letting the same thought out for far too long. “Yes!” Hen hissed, relieved that she wasn't the only to see the weirdness in the room. “Now, look, they're my friends and so obviously I want them to be happy, but it's also just throwing the team vibe way off.” Bobby took a long, tired breath. “Okay. So what did you have in mind?” Several things, as it turned out. Between them, they managed to come up with the very vague outline of a plan. Or a few plans, really, depending on how many failed. OR - When Buck and Eddie aren't speaking, Hen decides to take matters into her own hands.

i feel like i should be a little bit more ashamed at putting so many fics by songbvrd on this list but... they're sooo good. always coming in clutch for some interesting plot in a medium length fic. this one is no exception to that trend - loved hen in this one and i love miscommunication and outsider POV.

Eddie vs Romance by allyasavedtheday (restricted) (ao3) 27 889 “You wanna talk about it?” Buck asks after a beat. He doesn’t drink his beer. Eddie doesn’t either. It’s a crutch, mostly. A pretence, so that if the conversation gets too deep, too fast they can blame it on the alcohol. Eddie appreciates it. As he thinks about Buck’s question he wonders where to start. He’s told Buck some of it, the important parts, but not- not what compelled him to do any of it in the first place. In the end, he can only think of one thing. Swallowing around the lump clogging his throat, he says, “I don’t think I know how to be in love anymore.” - “I think Eddie’s in love with me.” She gapes at him, mouth working for a response that doesn’t come until Chimney beats her to it. “Eddie’s what?” Maddie claps her mouth shut, stepping aside to let Buck through. Chimney’s on the floor in the living room with Jee playing with her tea set. “You’re not involved in this conversation,” Buck says, pointing at him. “It’s your fault in the first place for even putting the idea in my head.” Maddie apparently finally finds her voice, appearing at Buck’s side and looking between them. “I’m sorry, what? How did Chim put the idea in your head?” “Him and Hen!” Buck exclaims, waving a hand. “They told me I should pay attention to how much Eddie wants to be around me.” “And you took that to mean he’s in love with you?” Chimney asks incredulously. * In which Buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of Eddie Diaz.

a short series of two fics that explore eddie realizing he is in love with buck, buck realizing eddie is in love with him and then them getting together. really cute and an amazing take on eddie's relationship to shannon.

I’m Bringing You With Me by CourtepointeClementine, sunlight (ao3) 30 997 Eddie props his chin up on his hand to stare at Buck in the dark. The mattress makes an ungodly squeaking noise from even this small movement. Maybe sneaking out wouldn’t actually be that easy. Eddie reaches across him and squeezes Buck’s shoulder. Buck looks over at him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Eddie says. “I took the couch,” Buck blurts out. Eddie’s hand stills where it was still gently squeezing Buck’s shoulder. “What?” “Ugh.” He dislodges Eddie’s hand and pulls the duvet up over his own face. “Why?” Buck uses the duvet cover to absorb the lone tear that is trickling down to his ear. “It looked lonely. On the curb.” On Eddie’s last night in LA, Buck does something a little crazy. While Eddie’s in El Paso, he does something a little crazy. It all comes back to the couch in the end.

eddie moves to el paso and buck does not handle it well. like at all. lots of emotional hurt for buck and of course a happy ending.

it was more than a moment (it was the rest of our lives) by smilingbuckley (restricted) (ao3) Mature 36 161 At work, Eddie gets the shocking news that his parents are suing him for custody of Christopher. His lawyer, falsely assuming Buck and Eddie are a couple, suggests they get married to give Eddie a stronger case. Buck gladly agrees. -- “So,” Buck speaks up when the waiter is gone. He stretches his arms above his head, making the shirt under his jacket ride up and expose a bit of his skin. Eddie can see the faint lines of a tattoo before Buck shifts and his shirt falls down again. “Are we getting married?” Eddie has to do a double take, “Excuse me, what?” “Well, Mrs. Reese said that it would be useful,” Buck says, like it’s not a big deal at all. Like marriage isn’t an official commitment, usually reserved for people in love that plan on being together for the rest of their lives. “I… Buck, it’s… good that you’re, you know, my fake boyfriend or whatever, but I can’t let you marry me for this.” “Why not?” Buck asks, “If it helps you get Christopher back.”

fake marriage turned real marriage fic. also fuck helena and ramon all my homies hate helena and ramon. eddies parents fuck up and try to take chris permanently and eddie and buck get married over it. season 8.

something touched me (like a knife-blade) by kithmet (ao3) Explicit 42,295 “I feel fucking explosive, Buck. Like I’m about to go off at any second. I don’t want you caught in my mess.” His eyes sting. At the very least, Buck contains the sound of it in his voice. “Eddie, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he replies, “but I already am.” Eddie self-implodes. Christopher, seeking refuge, flees to Buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get Eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (Oh, and Tommy’s there too. He thinks.)

this was a great fic and an interesting take on chris staying with buck and eddie getting his shit together.

everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars (restricted) (ao3) Explicit 48 550 After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand. *** Buck breathes for a moment, then sets his shoulders. "Eddie, there's something I have to tell you." "Do you?" Eddie asks flatly, still alarmed and doing his best to hide it. "I would've never guessed." Buck swallows. "Eddie, I love you." "Are you softening the blow, or buttering me up? Because, I've got to tell you, I'm still very worried regardless," Eddie tells him. "No, you don't understand. I love you. I'm currently in love with you," Buck says as evenly as possible, and even then, his voice wobbles precariously there for a moment. He exhales. "You don't have to worry about it, though, because I've processed it and decided to—to find relief in telling you before moving on and moving forward." Eddie stares at him. No response at all. Well, at least he's not freaking out.

the note left in my bookmark: "couldn't even play my video games while listening to this smh. took too much of my attention. <3"

i tend to download fics and listen to them through a epub reader and play video games but i could not keep from pausing to keep reading manually i needed to know what was next so bad. buck and eddie being stubborn and stupid and includes some of my favorite pining tropes. i love when one of them is convinced the other cannot love them so they try to fall out of love. amazing. also jealous eddie ftw.

Juxtaposition by ProstheticLoVe (ao3) Teen+ 74 552 “What kind of partner do you want?” Buck looks him straight in the eye and with no hesitation says, “One who has my back. Someone who loves me for me. All the chaos and the weirdness included. Someone who I love. Even if I have to wait for them to catch up.” He says it with such confidence, Eddie feels like his answer was lacking. Or the one where Eddie’s too busy stuck on the idea of a heteronormative family that he misses who is right in front of him and has been all along. Don’t worry, Buck’s trying to tell him.

eddie being in love with buck but being so deeply repressed is one of my fave tropes and it is pulled off excellently here.

Away From Us by Marchling (restricted) (ao3) Mature 76 165 They turned the last corner they needed to get to Buck’s loft and the floor was gone. “Firefighters evacuate. The building is collapsing.” Eddie stared incomprehensibly to the gaping drop that should have been Buck’s hall. His heart was pounding, not because he had worked so hard to get here… Because he was terrified. “Buck!” Eddie screamed as loud as he could to be heard over the flames. His hands scrambled over the walls, testing them, trying to see if he could use a ledge or a doorknob or something to get to Buck’s door. There was no answer but Eddie screamed again, “Buck! Are you here?” --- After the lawsuit Buck is doing his absolute best to try to win back his family but nothing is working and the hope is starting to hurt. He makes the the decision to resign from the 118 via letter and leave LA to start something new in Arizona. And that would've been fine except a fire burns down his entire apartment building that morning and the letter never makes it to Bobby. When Buck isn't found amongst the survivors his loved ones have to accept that he died in the fire. A presumed dead story about forgiveness, grief, second chances and falling in love.

aaahhhh presumed dead my beloved. buck is presumed dead in a fire when he decides to run after the lawsuit. eddie and the rest of the 118 have to grapple with the death of buck. loved bobby in this one and it broke me to see his grief over losing another kid.

there is no road by littleghost (ao3) Explicit 99 788 Eddie listens to the voicemail later. Buck sounds like he’s at a grocery store, absentmindedly talking into the phone. “Oh, I guess you’re with your sisters. Sorry to miss you. I just wanted to tell you about this call we had last night, but I gotta hear your reactions, so, later. Okay, uh, I guess I’ll just call back. Or text.” It ends abruptly, without a goodbye. Eddie replays it a second time, closes his eyes as he sits in the truck. For a moment, he can pretend Buck is sitting in the passenger seat next to him. For a moment, Eddie is back in Los Angeles and his best friend is dragging him through the grocery store. The voicemail ends, Eddie opens his eyes, and the fantasy breaks. Eddie is still in El Paso, parked in front of the house he’s renting, and there’s no one in the passenger seat with him.

omgggg. so im fairly sure the title is from that song from the bolt movie so points off the bat for that decision i have it stuck in my head now. a good fix it fic for season 8 where buck and eddie keep communicating through voicemails as they intentionally and unintentionally miss each others calls. great fic that has calls in it and a lot of substance. loved it.

originally posted 4/7/25

#911 abc #911 show #buddie #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckey x eddie diaz #evan buckley/eddie diaz #eddie diaz #fic rec #buck buckley #buddie fic rec #9 1 1 on abc #9 1 1 buddie

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