#and some generic fall colors too

[dogtiber]

the boy decided he just *had* to roll in the mud in his nice sweater (while terrorizing the local worm population)

laundry time I guess.

[spideyjimin]

Break my heart | jjk

—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: college au, roommates au, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, kind of friends to enemies, and enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: jungkook, a mask, and a party. three things that made you weak enough to break all the rules of friendship. you did with him what you usually do with strangers… but he was never supposed to be a one-night stand. there’s too much history. too much comfort. and now, the aftermath of that wild and steamy night has made living with him unbearable, but also impossible to walk away. because you’re falling. fast. deep. and maybe deep enough to let each other break your own hearts.

—  words: 18,123

—  warnings: implied sex, mention of alcohol, heavy sexual tension, so much teasing, strong language, lots of kissing, swearing, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, protected sex, mention of sex, kind of heartbreak, crying, fighting, mention of masturbation, flirting, mention of bathroom sex, oc throws very bad jokes at him, mention of toxic relationship, some jealousy, fingering, handjob, and multiple sex scenes

—  author’s note: the fic is finally out!! i’ve had so much fun writing it & i hope you’ll enjoyed it 🥰 i know i said that i was taking a break but i had some days off & my hand is finally getting better so i just wrote 🫣 this is also like a “thank you” fic for all the milestones i reached in the past months i really appreciate you all & thank you so so much for everything 🩵🩵 hope you’ll enjoy this fic ✨

— playlist: OTRO CAPÍTULO | QUE HACES | sports car | railway | die for you

MASTERLIST

As you step inside the impressive ballroom, your eyes look around. The room is already full of people, which doesn’t surprise you, and it’s quite dark. Since it’s a masquerade ball, every single person is wearing a mask. Some are fancier than others, but in general, everybody looks fantastic with their masks on.

You turn to your left, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s before you look down at where your left hand rests on his strong arm. Your best friend looks incredibly well in his black tuxedo and with his phantom half mask. It’s rare to see him wearing such a classic outfit. He usually goes with jeans and large shirts.

“Let’s go?” he asks with a growing smile.

You simply nod. This isn’t the type of party you usually go to. Most of the time, it’s just a random party organized by a student, and you’ll get drunk before getting laid. Or you’ll simply get laid. But tonight is different. You’re not even sure what you’re supposed to do or how to act. You don’t envision flirting with someone like you used to at “regular” parties.

As you make your way to the crowd, you text your friend Lena to check where she is. She told you a couple of minutes ago that she was already inside with her boyfriend, Hoseok, and Jin, another friend of yours.

“Lena told me to join her at the bar,” you say to your best friend, your eyes detaching from your phone.

You and Jungkook walk side by side, your feet moving in sync. Strings of colorful lights illuminate the room, but you’re focused on finding the bar. Your fingers tighten around his arm. Not because you might trip or lose your way, but because, for a split second, you’re afraid he might let you go.

When you reach Lena, your face breaks into a real smile, the kind that slips out before you can stop it.  

“You both look stunning!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling beneath her mask.

She throws her arms around you without hesitation, and you laugh as she pulls you into a hug. As her arms slide around your neck, you loosen your grip on Jungkook’s arm. But the absence of this warmth doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by you. And not by him.  

“Ready for tonight?” she asks in your ear.

You simply nod while your arms wrap around her waist to hold her close.

“I’ve already noticed some handsome men you might want to end up with tonight,” she whispers.

You chuckle. She always does this when she arrives at a party before you, scouting the room like your personal wingwoman. She knows how you like to flirt with a man or two before settling on the one you’ll take home.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, shaking your head.

She steps back, meeting your eyes with a grin.

“I’m saving you some time. You’ll find your man quicker.”

“Yn doesn’t need help finding her night companion,” Jungkook says. “Give her ten minutes, and she’ll be whispering the dirtiest things in some poor guy’s ear.”

“Eeeh, like you’re any better,” you try to defend yourself.

“I never claimed otherwise,” he smirks, completely unbothered.

You shake your head; they are both annoying.

Lena leads you through the crowd toward a corner booth glowing under soft string lights. Jin and Hoseok are already there, drinks in hand, their laughter spilling over the music. You greet them with easy smiles, sliding into the seat beside Lena. A couple of minutes later, more familiar faces join you. Taehyung, Jimin, and Mara, Taehyung’s girlfriend.

The table fills quickly with chatter and laughter, a rhythm you know well. You let yourself lean into it—the comfort of inside jokes, the clinking of glasses, the way someone’s always teasing someone else. Being with your friends always warms your heart. It feels like time completely stops when you’re with them.

A few guys glance your way. One even makes a move to approach. But you don’t engage. Not because no one’s attractive. Not because you don’t know how. You just don’t feel like it. Your attention stays anchored at the table, where the people know you, where nothing feels like a game.

And somehow, that’s enough tonight. More than enough. The idea of flirting, of peeling yourself open for a stranger, even just for fun, feels tiring in a way you can’t explain. So instead, you laugh at Jin’s stupid jokes. You steal a sip from Jimin’s drink to hear him complain. You keep catching Jungkook’s eye across the table for half a second too long. And then you look away.

Before you even have the time to process, Jungkook is standing next to you, his hand on the small of your back, his lips close to your ear.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he proposes.

A smile appears on your face, your eyes meeting his. You nod, but the motion falters when you realize that he’s close. Too close. Close enough that his breath, warm and laced with mint, brushes across your cheek. It catches you off guard, not because Jungkook hasn’t been in your space before, but because this time, it feels different.

Your heart beats extremely fast in your chest, and you swear you can feel your cheeks burning. But you brush everything away as he guides you to the dance floor, where tons of students are dancing like the night is still young.  

Soon enough, you’re both dancing in the middle of the crowd, your gaze locked on his. The world around you completely disappears. There’s only you and Jungkook. You dance like you always do. Like two crazy kids. Nothing makes real sense, but it does to you and him. You giggle when he does silly moves.

This isn’t something new. You always dance with Jungkook at a party. You always enjoy each other's company before finding somebody to spend the night with.

When the music changes to Die for You by The Weeknd, the entire mood shifts in the room, especially between you and Jungkook. Neither of you moves. You simply stand there, in front of each other, and caught in each other’s gaze like the song was meant for this exact second. 

Just as you start to turn, deciding to go back to the table with your friends before things get too heavy. Jungkook’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. When you turn around, your eyes meet his intense gaze. Your heartbeat increases drastically when you realize how close you are.

Your eyes look down for a second at his lips, his hot breath brushing against your cheek. His hand places yours on his shoulder, bringing you even closer to him. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pressing your body against his.    

“What are you doing?” you ask with a shaky voice.

“Dancing with you,” he replies, his dark eyes staring deep into yours.

His body starts to sway, quietly inviting yours to follow him. Your gaze never leaves his as you let him guide you, your steps syncing instinctively with his. The bass pulses beneath your feet like a shared heartbeat. You don’t speak; there’s no need to.

His hand finds your waist, light at first, then firmer as you settle into the rhythm together. His chest nearly brushes yours with each slow step, and his thumb traces the fabric of your dress like he’s memorizing it. And your heart hammers.

You can smell the same familiar scent he always wears, but tonight, it hits differently. Tonight, it feels dangerous. 

He leans in, just barely, his mouth near your ear.

“Still want to walk away?” he murmurs, voice low and almost smug.

You exhale, shaky but defiant. You swallow with difficulty as you realize who you have in front of you. You have the flirtatious version of your best friend. The guy who flirts with any girl he meets. But this guy, you never got to meet him because there was only friendship between you.

Tonight, everything is different. You noticed it the second you stepped out of your room. You noticed it when his eyes devoured you back at your shared apartment. You noticed it when you did the same. Tonight, there’s an unexplained longing between you. You ignore where this comes from, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to be your night companion.  

“Maybe I just needed a reason to stay.”

His eyes say more than words ever could. They are locked on yours like you’re the only thing that exists. He wants you. Desperately. He craves you with his entire soul. And he doesn’t mind as well if you’re his night companion this evening.

And from the way your pulse jumps, the way you look at him, he knows. He knows that you want this too. His hand shifts, his fingers grazing your waist. A light touch, but enough to send a wave of heat through you. Your breath catches. And he notices. Of course he does.

Then, that slow and wicked smirk of his forms. The one that screams trouble. The one he gives to his flirts. The one that usually makes you laugh because it was never meant for you. But now, it doesn’t make you laugh. It makes you weak. It makes you an easy prey for him.

“And what’s that reason?” he murmurs, leaning in, voice thick with heat and tease. “Is it the suit?” he pauses. “I noticed the way you looked at me at home.”

You slowly slide a finger along the lapel of his jacket. You’re trying to hide the fact that this man right here is making it difficult for you to remain composed. How can you resist him? Honestly, now you understand why there isn’t a single woman who can resist his charms. You used to make fun of them, but now, you understand them.

“Should I remind you of the way you looked at me?” your voice is also filled with heat and tease.

He leans in. Closer. His lips hover just beside your cheek, near your ear, but he doesn’t touch.

“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” he confesses.

Your fingers move down, tracing now invisible circles on his chest while your bodies keep moving at the music’s rhythm.

“Such cheesy words,” you reply, a smirk arising on your face. “That’s what I deliver to the men I want in between my legs.”

Jungkook’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, his eyes darkening even more.

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

This makes you go still. Although it’s written all over his face that it’s what he wants, hearing it out loud makes it real. And if this is real, it means your friendship will never be the same anymore. It means that you’ve ruined the friendship. There won’t be any coming back after this night. You won’t even be able to blame it on the alcohol. You barely drank anything.

The music continues around you, bodies moving on every side, but your world has narrowed down to him. His breath. His stare. The way his hand flexes, like he’s seconds from pulling you in. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate a second when the next words leave his lips.

“Say the word,” he breathes. “And I’m yours tonight.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, trying to process what he just said and what is happening. Your fingers resume brushing over his strong chest. Both your hearts are beating extremely fast. If you say yes, you’ll both leave this place and go to yours to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.

“You already are,” you whisper, your eyes dropping to your fingers playing on his chest. “You became mine the second your eyes devoured me back at home.”

Jungkook freezes entirely, as if he fears that moving too quickly will ruin the moment. His breath catches, and for a heartbeat, he doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, like he’s seeing something he’s wanted for far too long.

Then, slowly, his eyes flick to your lips. And when they return to yours, when he sees you looking at his mouth, not pulling away, not breathing, that’s all the permission he needs.

His hand slides to the side of your face, fingers brushing your jaw with aching care. And then, he crashes into you. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s not soft or tentative. It’s fierce. Hungry. The kind of kiss that comes from too many stolen glances.

You answer it instantly, hands fisting in his jacket, body leaning into him like you’ve been waiting forever. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him like he wants to feel every part of you.

You gasp when his teeth graze your lower lip, and he takes that moment to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping in. This is overwhelming. Way too overwhelming. Jungkook is by far one of the best kissers you’ve got to meet. His lips are addicting, and his touch is fire. You don’t want to let go. You don’t want to ever let go of him.

Although this is overwhelming, it’s not enough.

A little moan escapes your mouth as the kiss gets more and more desperate. A moan that Jungkook swallows. It’s getting clear that you crave more than just a kiss. It’s clear you want him between your legs.

And before you start to give too much of a show, you break apart. You’re both breathless, foreheads resting together, and chests pressed together. Neither of you speaks at first. The only sound is the distant throb of music from inside and the rush of blood in your ears.

Jungkook’s thumb brushes your cheek slowly and tenderly. A sharp contrast to the fire in his kiss. Amidst this overwhelming desire, it’s remarkable that he manages to be gentle.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers.

Your eyes take him in for a moment. His eyes are filled with lust, his lips are swollen, and his breathing is erratic. Your lips get closer, brushing against his, but you don’t kiss him. Not yet.

“Why?” you whisper.

“We’re friends,” he instantly answers.

Jungkook is trying to resist the urge to kiss you once more. His entire soul wants to do it, but he isn’t sure if he should.

“It’s too late now,” your tongue tards out to lick his lower lip. “We have already ruined our friendship.”

Your eyes never leave his. Although desire is written all over his face, there’s also worry. He’s worried about losing you, but now, no matter what happens, it’s already too late. He’ll lose you if he chooses to.

“I’m all yours tonight, Jungkook.”  

He doesn’t respond right away. He simply stares at you like you’ve knocked the air out of his lungs. Like he’s not sure he heard you right. His hand, which was resting on your waist, pulls you in closer, pressing your body even more against his.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your cheek before going down to your jaw and throat.

“I’m all yours,” you repeat, softer this time.

As he hears your words, he lets out a low, shaky breath against your skin. It sounds like half a groan and half a surrender.

“Let’s get out of here before I rip this dress off you,” he mumbles as he presses a gentle kiss on the crook of your neck.  

“We need to tell our friends,” you tell him as you take a step back. “Lena will get worried if I disappear just like that.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You both head back to the table, your fingers entwined together as you navigate through the heavy crowd. The second your eyes notice Lena, you let go of Jungkook’s hand. Somehow, you don’t want her to understand what’s going on between the two of you. You know she’ll dissuade you from doing it, and you don’t want it.

“We’re leaving,” you basically scream in her ear.

“Getting bored?” she asks.

You nod. What you ignore at that moment is that she saw everything. She saw the way you danced, the way you kissed, and the way you almost fucked each other in the middle of the crowd. But she isn’t going to say anything. She’s just surprised this moment didn’t happen earlier. A fuckboy and a fuckgirl living under the same roof, it was honestly bound to explode at some point.  

“Text me when you’re at home,” she asks, although she’s certain you won’t do it, too busy to get railed by Jungkook.

“Can you let the others know?” Jungkook asks her.

She nods, and you both leave in a hurry. Jungkook drives as fast as he can, your heartbeats going crazy and your bodies aching for each other like never before. This new sensation is scary, but also so damn good at the same time.

The moment the door to your apartment shuts behind you, Jungkook pushes you against it, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathless, like you ran the whole way there, which isn’t far from the truth.

“You sure?” he whispers, his hand finding yours again, grounding himself in your skin.

You nod, not needing words, because tonight, nothing’s uncertain anymore. Tonight, you want him, not a stranger.

“Absolutely,” you answer.

Your lips press hard against his, your hands move to his head to cup his face. You bite his lips lightly, so he opens his mouth, and your tongue finds his quickly. You passionately kiss each other while you’re pressed against the entrance door. Not the way you picture things, but having his lips on yours feels like a dream.

When you break the kiss, you take his mask off to get a better view of his face. Following your lead, he removes yours. And just like that, there’s nothing left to hide behind. No mystery, no playful distance.

Just him. Just you. Bare and exposed in the soft light, no excuses or costumes between you anymore.

His gaze lingers on your face like he’s memorizing the version of you he knows best. The one without masks, without armor. Then, gently, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips. Not hungry. Not desperate. Just soft and certain. And your heart stumbles in your chest.

“Much better,” you whisper as you take him in without the mask.

A slow smile curves his lips, like he’s about to do or say something reckless. And he is. Without giving you a second to breathe, he leans in and crashes his mouth against yours again. His hand cups your jaw firmly, grounding you as his lips move against yours.

When your mouth parts in a soft gasp, his thumb is already there, brushing your bottom lip before gently tugging it down. A low sound rumbles in his chest as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue inside like he owns the right to.

You melt into him, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer—closer than you should. But right now, there’s no space between you. No masks. No rules. Just heat and need.

His hands hold you tight against him as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. This kiss is desperate and wild, but so desperately wanted. When he pulls back, you’re both breathless, and his dark eyes lock with yours. Your hands remain fisted on his shirt.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs, his fingers leaving your body to gently caress your cheek.

“Wait till you see me without this dress,” you whisper, your eyes never looking away.

“Can’t wait,” he smirks.

He presses a quick kiss on your lips, his hand moving to your back to pull you closer so you can feel his growing desire against your belly. You instantly moan at the sensation. Man, you’re desperate to feel him.

“I can see that,” you mumble against his lips.

Before you can comprehend what’s going on, Jungkook drags you to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. There’s absolutely no need to do it, but in some way, it makes this moment even more intimate. It doesn’t feel like you’re about to have sex with some random guy you met a couple of hours ago.

This is your best friend.

He’s the only man you ever trusted, apart from your father. You’d give him anything, even your heart, if he asked. You’d even let him break your heart.

His mouth finds yours for another kiss while your fingers find their way to his hair to play with it. The kiss quickly deepens, leaving no room for doubt about what is about to happen. His fingers move to the straps of your dress.

“Undress for me, baby,” he commands.

You nod, then reach for the side zipper, taking all your time to remove the dress to give this man a little show. The fabric slides down your body and pools around your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. The second you unveil your body, you notice his jaw flexing.

“Fuck,” he swears in his breath. “You’re no joke.”

“Told you,” you smirk and wink at him.

Jungkook has already seen you like this before at the pool, in summer clothes, and lounging around the apartment, and it never seemed to faze him. But right now, with the way he’s so desperate to touch you, his eyes look at you very differently. His eyes are full of hunger and are looking at you intensely.

You’re not just attractive. You’re irresistible.   

He bites his lower lip while his hungry eyes roam over your body. You’re a fucking dream. He wonders how on earth this didn’t happen before.

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs.

You follow his instructions, sitting at the edge of the bed. The man kneels before you, his hands spreading your legs to give him a view of your core. His face gets closer to your thigh, pressing a featherlight kiss on it. His warm lips move up, getting dangerously close to your wet core. His breath is hot against your skin, which sends shivers down your spine. Jungkook stops when he reaches your clothed core.

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pushing the fabric down. He takes his time, while his eyes are locked with yours. He’s so hot, no doubt that he can easily get any girl he wants at his feet.

And yet, he’s here. With you.

It’s wild to think about it. You’ve known each other for years, and he’s been your go-to person for everything. When you were sad, he’d bring you food and sit in silence beside you until you were ready to talk. When you were bored, he’d annoy you on purpose. You always felt safe around him because he’d let everything down when you needed him. He’d drop any girl he’d be flirting with if you called him.

You’re not supposed to be here, your legs spread with his head so fucking close to your core. You’re not supposed to be ruining the friendship. You’re not supposed to sleep together.

But who cares? You both want this.

And it leaves you wondering. Was there something stronger all those years beneath the friendship? What if you always loved each other? What if this was supposed to happen?

All your thoughts are pushed away when your hungry eyes look down at the man so damn close to your core.

Jungkook leans back in. His lips graze your skin as he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over you and making your muscles tense.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he mumbles more to himself than for you. “The prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” his eyes meet yours again.

For a second, his gaze moves down to your core. Jungkook has seen many of them in his life, and although he found them all appealing, yours is even prettier. And he’s so damn excited to taste you. His hard dick is the proof of it.

His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his lips finally taste you without hesitation. Jungkook initially teases you, his eyes looking up at you to catch your reaction. A smirk grows on his face when you arch your back and moan. This is exactly what he wanted.

Without wasting more time, his lips seal around your sensitive bundle of nerves. A strangled gasp escapes your mouth as pleasure takes over you. Your eyes look down at the man pleasuring you. It’s a fucking sight you never imagined you’d ever witness in your entire life. He’s eating you out like a starving man.

“Fuck,” you moan.

As you moan, he can’t help but moan back. He loves hearing you moan, especially knowing it’s because of him this time. He’s heard you before, but those moans were for other men. It might sound weird to think that he already heard you moan, but it isn’t for him. You’ve both brought many night companions home, and let’s just say, the walls are thin.

The vibration of his voice sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. Your hips buck forward, pushing his face closer, and your fingers find their way to his hair as a trail of moans falls from your lips.

His mouth works you over with hunger, tongue torturing you like never before while his lips seal around your clit. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement.

Your eyes flutter shut as you enjoy every second of his mouth on your pussy. You throw your head back while moans flow out of your mouth. The growing pleasure is overwhelming but in a fantastic way, and your body trembles beneath his relentless tongue.

Jungkook is savoring every second, and if he could, he’d make the whole world hear you moan. A satisfied hum vibrates against you, sending shocks through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he takes it as encouragement, deepening his devotion, and pushing you further.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan.

The way you say his name makes him grow harder in his pants.

“Tell me, baby,” his eyes look up at you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you manage to say between moans.

Before you even realize it, your orgasm violently hits you, your legs shaking, and your walls clenching around emptiness. Even though you’re coming hard against his lips, Jungkook doesn’t stop lapping at your juices falling all over his tongue. He savors every drop because damn, he’s never tasted something as addicting as you.

You can tell without any doubt that this man is the first one to eat out dreamily. Many guys did it before him, and a lot of them were great, but Jungkook surpasses them all. For sure, his experience with girls is a plus right now.

Once you come down from your high, he pulls away. His face glistens with your slick, his lips swollen, and his eyes dark with hunger. Jungkook stands up, a bright smile on his face, before he pushes down his pants and boxers. A sigh of relief leaves his lips the second his cock is finally free. It was getting pretty painful to keep it inside his pants.

You lean back as you hold yourself with your upper arms, your eyes hungrily admiring the man who his stripping for you.

“Already hard?” your eyes look up to meet his.

Jungkook gives you a little show while he removes every piece of his black tuxedo. Your eyes admire the way his muscles flex. You’ve already seen him with only is underwear on, but this time, you can’t help but find him so damn attractive. Suddenly, his tattooed arm becomes a massive turn-on.

“You taste like heaven. I could come in my pants while only eating you out,” he admits.

Once he’s fully naked, his right hand finds its way to his cock, stroking himself. He’s not even sure he’ll last long. His grip tightens around his cock, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ve a pretty cock,” you wink at him. “No wonder every girl wants to take a ride,” you tease him.

Jungkook has quite a slightly bigger dick than average. You’ve seen many cocks of all sorts. Big, thick, small, long, and tiny. Jungkook’s dick is of average length, but he’s a bit thicker. But over the years, you’ve come to realize that the size isn’t what truly matters.

What matters is how the guy uses it, and also all the other aspects of a sexual moment. There’s the flirting, the teasing, the oral sex. And for you, that is what makes sex better.

“Of course, what did you think?” he answers. “There wouldn’t be this fuss if it were tiny.”

You shake your head with a smile on your face.

“Now it’s your time to take a ride,” he winks at you.  

He gets closer to you, his free hand gently pushing you down on the mattress of his bed. And then, his lips crash against yours while his hand leaves his cock so he can cup your face. His body presses flush against yours, heat radiating between your bodies as he deepens the kiss.

When you break the kiss, he opens the drawer of his nightstand to grab a condom. Even though he’d like to really feel you, it’s better to use protection. Let’s avoid getting you pregnant. He knows you’re not on the pill, you never liked it, but you keep good track of your cycle. And he knows you’re on your ovulation period; you told him this morning.

Once the condom is fully on his cock, he holds you open as he guides the head of his cock into your sopping entrance. For a moment, he teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A deep moan leaves your throat as he stretches you open. Your walls clench around him as his dick makes his way inside your pussy. Your back instantly arches, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper.

“Fuck,” he mumbles the second he looks down, watching the way your body takes him in.

Neither of you expected how incredible it would feel to be connected like this. Jungkook pushes himself further until he bottoms out. The second he’s fully inside, he halts to give you both a moment to adjust.

Having him still inside you is torture. You can’t handle staying like this, you need him to move and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Jungkook, move please,” you beg him.

“As you wish, baby,” he teases as he slowly pulls back.

He pauses for a second when only the thick head of his cock remains inside. Without any warning, he pushes back. Feeling his thick shaft pushing deeply back into you is beyond satisfying. Damn, it even makes you see stars. Both of you moan loudly as he starts pounding into you. This man right here just knows how to screw you.

Throughout the past few years, you’ve gotten to taste different dicks. Usually, they knew how to use it; some were really bad, but Jungkook surpasses them all by far. And it’s only the beginning. You don’t want to imagine how you’ll feel when you come around his thick shaft.   

His pace is restless, and his hands grip your waist tightly. The room quickly gets filled with the slick sound of your moans, of the headboard hitting the wall, and of your bodies slapping together. The heat builds in your core as he slams into you, filling you completely with each thrust.   

Your hands grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts. His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss while his thrusts grow rougher and quicker.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach while he moans your name. Hearing him pronounce your name this way feels wonderful. You’ve already heard him moaning a lot of times, but now that you’re the reason behind it, it tastes wonderful.

Jungkook is getting more and more lost in his pleasure. The only thing you’re both focused on now is chasing your high, and the heat between you is unbearable. You both know you won’t be lasting much longer. 

“I’m not going to last much longer,” you manage to say, the desperation filling your voice.

His cock twitches inside you at your words, and well, that action causes your orgasm to crash over you. When your orgasm hits you completely and violently, your walls squeeze him tightly. Jungkook groans when he feels your wall clenching around his cock.  

His thrusts get more desperate as he chases his own high. He’s so fucking close. Jungkook closes his eyes because the simple view of your face contorting with pleasure is just too much. Your walls keep tightening around him, a torture you impose him to help him cum.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And then, with one last thrust, he falls apart. Deep groans fall from his lips as he releases his hot semen inside the condom. His hands tighten around your waist, holding you still while he releases himself. He looks incredibly sexy when the orgasm hits him. Jungkook collapses next to you in bed.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, both trying to catch your breath. Your eyes are completely shut, while his are fixed on the ceiling of his bedroom. Slowly, he removes the condom, makes a knot, and throws it in the trash.

“Let’s take a shower,” he tells you as he stands up.

You open your eyes to be greeted with his sweet face. He looks adorable with his big doe eyes. How can a man looks so cute after fucking the shit out of you? And to think that this is what all the other girls got to see.

Jungkook offers you his hand to help you stand up, and you gladly take it. His fingers intertwine with yours while he guides you to your shared bathroom. You shower in silence, your arms wrapped around his body with your head pressed against his chest. You only focus on his heartbeat while the water falls over your bodies.

You try to push away all the questions that start to arise in your mind, but it’s hard to suppress them. What will happen now that you broke all the rules of friendship? Will you pretend that nothing ever happened? Or will you keep fucking around?

You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to have the answers to your questions. For now, you just want to stay in this little bubble.

When Jungkook wakes up, he realizes that you’re not in the bed. He instantly imagines that you might have gone to the bathroom or might be in the living room or something like that. But when he doesn’t find you in the apartment, he finds it weird. Where could you be?

By instinct, he calls you several times, but you don’t pick up. He’s starting to worry about you. You’ve never disappeared like this. Well, he can’t say that you never did it because it’s the first time you shared an intimate moment.

He tries to tell himself you had something urgent, or maybe just needed space. But the silence on the other end of the phone, the absence of a note, a message, or anything, feels too familiar. Too final.

A heavy weight settles in his chest as he walks into the apartment, running a hand through his hair. He frowns as he wonders why you left without a word. He gets back to his bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. He glances at the rumpled sheets, still warm from where you lay hours ago. The echo of your laughter, your breath, the way your fingers clung to his skin, it’s all still there, as vivid as a memory can be.

But you’re not.

Jungkook exhales sharply, frustrated by the ache creeping up his chest. Last night didn’t feel like something casual, at least not to him. You looked at him like he mattered, like it was more, like it meant something.

So why does this feel like goodbye?

He stands up and starts pacing the apartment, checking again the kitchen, the balcony, even the laundry room. Maybe you just went out for coffee? But your keys are gone. Your coat too. He notices it now. A pit opens in his stomach.

And then, it hits him.

You’ve done to him what you do with the others. You slept with him and now, you ran away before he even got to wake up. It hurts him that you saw last night as a one-night stand because he loved every second of it. He wouldn’t have flirted with you if he didn’t enjoy it. But somehow, deep down, he hoped this wouldn’t be a one-time thing.

He secretly hoped for more.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself before collapsing on the couch.

Then, his phone starts buzzing and he quickly grabs it, hoping it’d be you. However, his hopes are broken when his friend’s name shows up.  

“Hi Tae,” he says when picking up.

“Hi Kook,” he says. “How was last night with yn?”

Jungkook instantly freezes.

“How…” he begins, but his friend interrupts him.

“We all saw it,” he answers. “Man, you were kissing her like a starving man in the middle of the dance floor. And then, you left with her so no need to be a genius to know you fucked her.”

Jungkook groans while rubbing his face. This is what he wanted to avoid. He’s frustrated because you left him like a dirty sock, and all your friends saw you last night. They will for sure tease the two of you forever with that. And he knows that things have forever changed. Nothing will ever be the same now.

“Yeah, we did it,” he admits without really answering the question. “But let’s forget it.”

“Why?” his friend sounds confused.

 “She was just a booty call.”

At that exact moment, you walk into the apartment with the brightest smile on your face, and with some pastries in your hands, but when you hear your best friend’s words, your entire world falls apart.

How can he say that? Why is he even saying it?

You thought last night meant something, that he enjoyed it, but after all, he seemed not to reciprocate. And it hurts.

“So you’re telling me you two just hooked up for fun?” his voice cuts in, sharp with disbelief. “There were hundreds of people you could have slept with, Jungkook! Why her?”

Taehyung sounds angry, and honestly? He should be. Jungkook should never have touched you, not like that. Now everything blew up, and he’s never going to be able to look at you without feeling a bit of pain.

Yeah, the sex was great. Actually, more than great, but the aftermath isn’t.

“Look, I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “She was there, I knew I could have her, so I did.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jungkook,” he swears under his breath. “Friends don’t do that even if they are into casual shit.”

Jungkook perfectly knows that he screwed up, but he didn’t expect the fallout to feel this awful. He thought maybe, somehow, everything would go back to normal. But he was dead wrong.  

Jungkook’s words hit you harder than you expected. Sleeping with him was different than with any other guy. But now? He proved to you that he’s just like every other guy. Only thinking with his dick. Taking what he wants and moving on without a second thought.  

And just like that, ten years of friendship feel like they’re cracking under the weight of one moment, one mistake, he can’t take back.

You disappear into your room to do something you never did before. Crying over a man. But you promise yourself that it’ll be the first and last time.

A week later

Things with Jungkook have gotten worse. You’re not able to speak without fighting and insulting him, but you know that’s because you’re hurt. You never imagined your friendship going down this badly. You always loved him, you still do, but he hurt you like nobody else ever did.

“Jungkook!” you scream as you pound on the bathroom door.

The man has been inside for like an hour. You need to take a shower before going out. You’re going to a party with your friends, and Jungkook will also be there, but who cares? You’ll only get there to find your night companion, and forget about what Jungkook did to you.

“I need to shower!” you continue.

“Not my problem,” he shouts.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no way you’re going to wait any longer. You take the spare key before opening the door and storming into the room. Jungkook is fully naked, but you couldn’t care less. For a moment, your eyes quickly scan him. He’s still incredibly hot.

“Leave,” you order flatly.

“No,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

You let out a heavy sigh, growing increasingly annoyed by this man's attitude. This man’s been testing every ounce of your patience since that night. You swear, if he keeps this up, you might actually smack that smug face of his.

“Dickhead,” you spit.

“You should find another nickname,” he says, unfazed. “You’ve been calling me that for a week now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Asshole. Is that better?” you say, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Slight improvement,” he smirks.

“Now, if you would kindly get the fuck out of this room, asshole, that’d be great,” you emphasize on ‘asshole’.

“I already told you, no,” he replies while applying moisturizer to his face.

You throw your arms up.

“Okay, fine,” you say.

Instead of making him leave, you turn the water on and undress. There’s no way you’ll wait any longer because he’s decided to ruin your life. He has already seen you naked, so no need to be shy around him.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, not expecting this at all, but he doesn’t move. His eyes even dare to stare at your body, one that has been driving him crazy for a week. He’s stopped counting the times he’s been stroking his dick while thinking of you.

“Didn’t know you were desperate to let me fuck you again,” he teases you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble while shaking your head. “Only in your dreams, idiot.”

“Wow, another cute nickname,” he pretends to be excited. “You’ve improved in the span of five minutes. I’m proud of you, yn.”  

You roll your eyes, not caring at all about his stupid words. You get inside the shower and clean yourself while Jungkook is still in the bathroom. He doesn’t move, continuing to get ready for tonight’s party. This is the first party since you fucked, and even though he wished things were different, he will do everything in his power to at least come back home with a random chick to forget about last week.

After the shower and getting dressed, you wait for Lena to come and pick you up. She knows about this damn tension between you, and she isn’t really happy about it. She’s mainly sad that your ten-year friendship with Jungkook got blown up because of sex.

For now, and until you patch things up with him, she’ll gladly pick you up. She’ll also do everything in her power to get things back to how they were. So, she’ll push you to sleep with random guys. She believes it’s the only way to make you forget that night.

Lena arrives around 10 pm and drives you to the party. Jungkook left with Taehyung in order to avoid being with you in the car. There’s no way he’s staying around you tonight. He wants to dance, get drunk, and have sex.

“How are things going at home?” she asks while driving.

“As long as I don’t see him, fine,” you reply.

“If it’s too much, you can come to mine for a while. I wouldn’t mind,” her eyes quickly leave the road to look at you. “My parents would also be happy to have you around.”

“I’m not going to leave because of him,” you mutter. “If he’s not happy, he can leave. I’m not holding him hostage.”

She shakes her head.

“For how long will you keep acting like that?”

“Until he stops being a jerk.”

Lena really doesn’t understand how things went this wrong. You both said it was a one-night stand, but you’ve been acting like it wasn’t. You’ve been acting like you’re both hurt. She’ll try to help as much as she can, but you both need to solve your problems. Otherwise, it’ll just blow up one day, and it’ll be bad.

“I never imagined you’d ever call him a jerk,” she tries to lighten the mood. “It’s so weird.”

“Me neither,” you mumble to yourself. “Let’s not speak about him anymore. I want to party and have fun.”

She simply nods, and you talk about something completely different for the rest of the drive. You quickly reach the house where the party is taking place. There are already many people. Most of them are already completely wasted. They most probably drank before joining the party. People do that a lot.

You and Lena make your way inside the house while you hold each other's hands. Hoseok, her boyfriend, isn’t coming because he’s sick. He hasn’t been feeling well for the past two days, but he still encouraged her to join the party.

As you walk, your eyes instinctively look for Jungkook. It’s a habit anchored in yourself so deep that even if you’re on bad terms today, you still do it. Very quickly, you find his broad back. Even from behind he looks great, and fuck, you wish he could be protecting you from the crowd while whispering the dirtiest shit in your ear.

There’s absolutely no way you’ll survive this party without this deep desire to spread your legs for him once more.

Easily, you find Mara. Obviously, she’s with Tae, her boyfriend. Jin and Jimin are also with them, and you greet them all. Nobody says a damn thing about you and Jungkook which is honestly a relief for you.

However, as much as you love them, you want to get ruined tonight, so you try to look for a man. In a matter of seconds, you find one who’s hungrily looking at you.

“This is my guy,” you tell them. “See you tomorrow, guys!” You wave your hand before walking to this hot and sexy guy. Unfortunately, he isn’t as sexy as your infamous roommate.

“Stop thinking about him!” you mumble to yourself. “You’re not going anywhere like that…”

When you reach the guy and start talking to him, you feel burning eyes on your body. For a moment, you ignore it, but at some point, you turn your head. Your eyes instantly meet Jungkook’s. They are dark as hell, and a smirk arises on your face before you throw a middle finger at him.

Then, you resume flirting with the guy and start to dance to the loud music. As you move your body around him, your eyes are glued on Jungkook. Just like the girl grinding her ass against his hips, you do the same with the random guy you’re with. That position makes you face your roommate.

This is dirty and wild.

The man behind you is long forgotten. Your entire focus is on Jungkook, and nobody else. You keep dancing and drinking. The guy behind you sometimes whispers dirty words into your ear, but you barely register them. He doesn’t even seem to realize that you don’t give a shit about him.

His hands slide on your hips, bringing you closer to him and making you feel his growing erection. You almost moan when you feel it, since your mind actually imagines it being Jungkook. Jungkook’s eyes get darker, and he swears he was about to moan when he notices your fucked up state. You both crave each other in an unhealthy way, but you perfectly know that nothing is going to happen. At least not tonight.

You both know you'll end up sleeping with the person you're dancing with, even though your minds will be somewhere else. You'll be thinking about each other, about how good it felt when your bodies were connected. You'll remember the moans, the whimpers, the way you came undone together. You'll be replaying every moment, every touch, every gasp. Because the sex wasn’t just great, it was unforgettable.

Tonight, none of you felt like bringing someone to your place. So you had sex in this exact house, in the bathrooms, to be more precise. It was great, but it couldn’t compare to how it felt last week. You know nothing will ever come close to the way you felt with each other.

Two weeks later

For the past two weeks, things have been getting more intense with your roommate. You’ve been avoiding each other at all costs at home. You’d both prefer being out than inside. The casual hookups with random people kept going, just like nothing ever happened.

But it wasn’t true.

Jungkook couldn’t kiss a girl without comparing her to you. You couldn’t open your legs without picturing Jungkook in between them. Every single hookup was a reminder of that night. And because of that, you even increased the number of men you slept with. You just wanted to forget that night and at the same time, relive it all over again.

The worst part was when you’d stumble upon your roommate. You’d fight over silly things, but it was your only way of communicating. Well, it’s still the case. You’re unable to look at this man without wanting to strangle him.

While you’re preparing your breakfast, Jungkook makes his way inside the kitchen. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a pair of dark blue jeans. His tattoos are on full display, and even though you’re not going to say it out loud, you absolutely like it.

“Will you be home at two?” you ask as he walks past you.  

“Why?” he says, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk like he couldn’t care less.

“Some guy is coming,” you answer, your eyes following his strong figure.

You watch his muscles flex as he reaches for a glass. It’s almost unfair how someone so infuriating can look that good. Buff. Strong. Dangerous in all the right ways. If he weren’t such an asshole, you might just let him ruin you again.

“Who?” he asks without looking at you.  

“Why do you want to know?” you counter, eyes glued on him.

He avoids your gaze, pouring the milk like the carton suddenly became fascinating.

“Because you’re the one talking about it,” he mumbles

A devious smirk grows on your face as you step closer—dangerously close now. He straightens up, facing you, eyes finally locking with yours.

“Are you looking for a guy?” you ask, cocking your head with a teasing grin.

“What?” his scowl is immediate, and you try as hard as possible to repress the smile growing on your face.  

You almost laugh at his expression. It’s ridiculous how easy it is to rile him up. But you hold it in. No cracks. Not yet. You're about to push him further. Annoying him is your new favorite pastime.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” you tease him.

Thank God he wasn’t drinking his milk. Otherwise, he would have choked. His brows draw together, clearly caught off guard.

“I’m not gay,” he says flatly, casually even, but his tone is clipped.

“Jungkook,” you shrug innocently. “You can be whoever you want. I support you, bestie.”

He rolls his eyes and drinks a sip of milk from the cup. Despite being annoyed, his heart skips a beat when you call him ‘bestie’. He hasn’t heard that nickname since that infamous night. You’ve called him jerk, asshole, idiot, stupid, fuckboy, dickhead, and many other things like that for the past three weeks.

“Why are you insisting?”

A little mustache of milk forms on his upper lip when he removes the cup. He looks absolutely adorable, like a little boy trapped in the body of a man who could destroy you with a single touch.

“Because I get it,” you smile. “I like men too.”

He wipes the milk mustache off with the back of his hand, but this time, the playful glint in his eyes disappears. He’s serious now.

“Stop it, yn,” his voice is sharp, like a warning. “You know I don’t like men.”

“Me?” you pretend to be innocent. “I don’t know anything. You’re very mysterious lately.”

Without a warning, he steps closer—your heart hammers in your chest with this sudden proximity. The air thickens between you, and you feel his hot and minty breath against your cheek. This reminds you of that wild night in the ballroom

“Yes, you do,” he whispers, voice dropping into something husky. His lips graze your ear. “And if you’ve forgotten, I can remind you.”

His fingers brush your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

“I can make you moan my name again…” he pauses for a split second. “Or scream it, if you’d prefer.”

He tilts your face toward his, gaze locked on yours—intense, unreadable, and full of heat. He’s daring you to push back, to test him again. Your breath hitches.

Is he serious right now? Or just playing another dangerous game?

You don’t get the chance to answer because suddenly, Lena pops up in the kitchen.

“Yn!” she screams cheerfully, unaware of the storm she just walked into.

Jungkook instantly steps back, reaching for his glass of milk like it’s some sort of shield. He takes a sip, pretending he has been drinking it all this time. But his eyes remain on you like he’s unwilling to break whatever had just almost happened.

Lena pauses, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She’s not stupid. She saw how close your faces were. She saw the heat. And above anything else, she can feel the heavy tension in the air.

“Seems like…” she stutters, clearly caught off guard. “Seems like I interrupted something.”

She half-turns like she’s going to walk back out, giving you and Jungkook some space.

“I’ll leave you two to what you were doing,” she gestures vaguely at the doorway.

“No need,” you answer while never looking away from Jungkook. Your voice is cool, calm, but laced with something pointed. “I was just about to leave.”  

You hold his gaze a second longer—daring him to stop you, say something, or do something. But he doesn’t. So you walk away, pulse pounding, and the confused silence trailing behind you. You want to look back, but you don’t dare to do it, knowing perfectly how weak you’d look.

You’re at Mara and Taehyung’s place for a girls' night with Lena and Mara.

Taehyung is out of town, and his girlfriend immediately organized a little pajama party for the three of you. It’s been a while since you haven’t spent some good time with just the two of them. Life always seems so busy between classes and exams.  

“So any life updates?” Mara asks.

“Not really,” Lena answers. “With Hobi, we’re considering moving together, but we still need to find something.”

Hoseok and Lena have been together since they were sixteen, so it’s been like five years. They still live at their parents’ houses, but now that you’re all reaching the end of your college years, they’ve been considering moving in together.

“You definitely should!” Mara replies with enthusiasm. “It’s so great.”

She’s been living with Tae for three months now. Since she lives far away from college, she was sleeping in the dorms, but after a while, her boyfriend suggested they could move in together. At first, she was hesitant because they’d been together for like two years. She was scared to move on too fast, but then, she decided to go for it.

“You get to have sex whenever you want,” she wiggles her eyebrows in a teasing way. “And cuddles when you desperately need one.”

“I know, but it makes me nervous, too. Like, my parents will freak out. Jennie is still at home.”

Jennie is her older sister. She’s twenty-six, but she doesn’t seem to want to move out of her parents’ place. Lena always believed the first child should be the first to get married, have children, and move out. Jennie is far away from that. She doesn’t even have a boyfriend yet.

“This is your life, not hers,” you tell her. “If you feel ready to take that huge step with Hobi, then do it. Your parents will understand you, I’m sure of it. You’ve been with him for so long.”

You’ve known her parents since you were a baby. They might appear as strict parents, but they are pretty cool. You don’t doubt they’ll let their daughter move in with her boyfriend. They adore Hobi. Who doesn’t?

“Let’s see,” she mumbles. “I still need to speak with them about it.”

You totally understand her nervousness. You felt the same when you told your parents you’d be moving in with your best friend instead of going to a dorm. They took it well since they already knew Jungkook and appreciated him. You wanted to have a bit more privacy, although back then you weren’t hooking up with random guys. You’d also feel safer coming home to a friend instead of a place full of strangers.

“And you, yn?” Mara looks at you. “Any news from your side?”

“No,” you shake your head without even thinking twice.

Lena chuckles. “No?” she raises an eyebrow. “You’re such a liar, yn.”

You frown with confusion, not understanding what she’s referring to. Is she thinking about one of the many men you slept with? There’s nothing to say about it. You barely remember their names, and you lost track of how many you hooked up with lately.

“I just caught you kissing Jungkook,” she continues.

Your eyes widen while your mouth falls open. Mara starts laughing. She’s surprised it only happened now because the tension between you and Jungkook is thick as fuck. All of your friends noticed how you now “flirt” at parties. They saw how you absolutely don’t give two shits about the person you’re with because you’re both too focused on each other. It’s like you’re flirting through Bluetooth.  

“That’s not true,” you reply.  

“Not true?” Lena repeats, and you nod.

Well, on this one, Lena is totally wrong. You weren’t kissing Jungkook, but there was no doubt that it would have happened if she hadn’t shown up.

“Aren’t you tired of playing cat and mouse for weeks?” Mara asks.

You take a sip of wine in an attempt to cool down. This is a very sensitive subject. Jungkook makes you feel hot and bothered, especially after the kitchen incident of earlier.

“Something has been going on between you for almost a month,” she adds. “Admit it.”

You try to act like it isn’t true, although you’re dying on the inside.

“Look, I’m just staying because the wine is good,” you inform them before taking a sip.

They chuckle because they know you’re trying to avoid answering them.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around you and Jungkook, but damn, you should fuck again because the tension is unbearable for everybody,” Lena adds.

“And let’s not speak about the flirting at the parties.”

Your eyes widen even more, and you’re sure you’ll die right here with their comments. They laugh even more at your reaction.

“You thought we didn’t notice?” Mara adds. “It’s honestly amusing, even though I feel sorry for the people you use.”

“You’re saying nonsense,” you shake your head while lying to their faces.

“Really?” Lena arches a brow. “Then, at the next party, I don’t want you to eye fucking him.”

“You’re crazy.”

She’s actually not joking.

“I’m serious, yn,” she continues. “Either you stop or you finally flirt with him like a normal person.”

“Okay, I’ll stop it.”

You would rather die than flirt with him, and you’re sure you can go through a party without eye-fucking him. Or at least, you want to convince yourself of that.

The next day

You’re studying in your bedroom for the upcoming exams with some background music. You’re one of those people who cannot study without background noise. It might be weird, but it isn’t for you.

Your entire life, you grew up with constant noise at home. With four brothers, one sister, and a niece, it makes a lot of noise, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. The house was so alive with all of you. However, being nine people living together under the same roof also made you move in with Jungkook for your college years.

It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was in your best interests. You constantly miss your family, and sometimes, it feels too quiet. You know that you’re partying because of that. You’re partying to be surrounded by people. Being alone isn’t for you. And that’s also why you have tons of hookups.

The idea of being alone for the rest of your life frightens you more than it should, but you also don’t ever want to be in a relationship. People find it odd because your parents are the perfect example of a successful marriage. They’ve been together since high school, got married after graduating from college, and had their first kid right after. They’ve been together for almost 35 years. It’s a lot.

However, your reason is simple. You’re afraid of falling in love. Your oldest sister, who’s ten years older than you, got into a very toxic relationship when you were still young. She was constantly crying and arguing with her then-boyfriend. He knocked her up at eighteen and disappeared under the excuse that he wasn’t ready to be a father. That broke your heart for her, but at least you got to grow up with a niece. She’s thirteen now, and you absolutely adore her.

Nevertheless, that vision of love showed you how messed up it can be when you fall for the wrong person. Your sister has moved on and is now in a perfectly healthy relationship, but you still don’t want to make the same mistake.

Hooking up makes everything easier. You have sex without any commitment. You take the best without falling in love, and that’s perfectly fine for you. At least, it was until recently.

But right now, with what’s going on with Jungkook, sometimes you wonder if you have feelings for him. You wonder if you’re falling for him, but you brush it off. He’s been your best friend for ten years. You’ve basically known him for half of your life. His friendship has always meant the world to you, but since you’ve broken all the rules of friendship, everything is just so different with him.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re falling for him. Falling very hard.

Honestly, never in your entire life have you imagined yourself developing feelings for him. He was the neighbors’ youngest kid who simply wanted to play with you. Being around him made you genuinely happy. You’d go to school together, come back together, and play in front of the houses while your mothers would speak together.

A day without him felt faded, and it still does.

For ten years, you’ve always been together. There hasn’t been a day when you haven’t seen him. Even now that you hate each other. And you can’t imagine yourself going through a day without seeing him.

Suddenly, the doorbell interrupts your focus, and you stand up. You’re not sure if Jungkook is at home, so it’s best if you go open the door. As you make your way to the entrance, you notice your roommate walking to the door as well.

He’s wearing loose clothes, and somehow, you find him ethereal. His black hair hangs messily, his t-shirt barely hides his tattooed arm, and his black jogging pants suit him perfectly. From afar, you simply admire him. And you wonder how you haven’t ever found him so attractive.

No wonder all the girls want to be seen with him or spend a hot and steamy night with him.

All of a sudden, his face turns, and your eyes meet.  

“Did you order something?” he calls out, his tone curt, his jaw tight.

“Mmm yeah,” you respond, trying to remember if you were expecting something today. “Maybe something from Amazon.”

You decide to get closer, next to him. A delivery guy stands awkwardly in the hallway, box in hand, eyes flicking between the two of you. There’s a brief moment of silence, and you don’t really know what to say.

“Who’s the pack for?” Jungkook asks.

The guy turns his head while bringing the box closer to his face.

“Miss yn,” he says, trying to pronounce your name correctly.

“It’s for me.”

Before you even get a chance to grab the package, Jungkook takes it with a quick thank you and shuts the door before the guy can say another word. His eyes land back on you, dark and unamused.

“You’re so fucking rude,” you huff while trying to tear the package from his hand. “And that’s mine.”

But of course, he doesn’t let go. Jungkook is way stronger than you and doesn’t want to give it to you. The package stays firmly in his grip as his dark gaze is on you, causing you to shiver, and instantly, you back off. Even if you like to tease him and all that, you’re not really in the mood for one of your usual verbal duels. Maybe because you’re quite nervous about the upcoming exams.

“Your fucking delivery disturbed me,” he growls.

“I didn’t know something was coming,” you admit.

He shakes his head, and he’s fighting the urge to smile. You’ve always been like this. You order some shit but then forget you did so when it’s delivered, you don’t remember it. But he has to admit that he always enjoyed watching your reaction when you’d unpack the box. You always seem so surprised and happy.

“You never know,” he mumbles. “You order half of Amazon and forget every time.”  

“Not my fault,” you shrug like it’s not a big deal.

He rolls his eyes.

“It is,” he shoots back. “Try keeping track of what you buy, maybe?”

“I do as I please,” you tell him. “You’re not my dad.”

“Thank God I’m not,” he says without missing a beat. “No way I could deal with someone like you as my daughter.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you cross your arms while narrowing your eyes.

Jungkook takes a slow, deliberate step closer, and suddenly his presence is overwhelming. His tall, broad frame towers over you, radiating heat and intensity. The space between you evaporates, replaced by a charged stillness that makes your breath catch. His body feels dangerously close, like he’s daring you to move or daring you not to.

“That you’re a pain in the ass.”  

“Wrong person,” you roll your eyes. “You’re the asshole here.”

“Oh, we’re back to ‘asshole’?” he smirks. “I thought it was the week of ‘jerk’.”

You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm because you’re so close to snapping his angelic face. He’s so fucking annoying.

“Give me my package,” you say with a sharp voice. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit today.”

A chuckle escapes his pretty lips.

“Oh, you can’t handle me now?”

His voice drops, and his body remains close. Way too close. You roll your eyes and try to snatch the package, but Jungkook lifts it above his head like you’re a child.

“Jungkook,” you warn.

“What?” he grins, enjoying every second. “If you want your order, you’ll have to come get it.”

“You’re a dick.”

You have zero patience for this. If he doesn’t hand you the package, you’ll just go back to your bedroom and leave him alone.

“Asshole, jerk, and now dick,” he says. “Which one will be next?”

You don’t even try to give him an answer. Instead, you try to reach for the box again, moving closer to him. You can’t possibly be closer to him. Your chest is basically pressed against his while you tiptoe. As much as Jungkook enjoys this proximity, he takes a step back.  

“Seriously, give it to me. I’m not in the mood.”

Jungkook takes another step back, but that’s too much. You leave him there, turning your back on him while you walk to your bedroom.

“Keep it,” you scream as you move away from him.

“You’re so sensitive.”

You give him a middle finger before slamming your bedroom door. Jungkook laughs and decides to put the pack down in front of your door.

Two days later

As you’re walking on the campus with Jimin and Lena, you notice Jungkook from afar. He looks busy with some girl, and she’s giggling like a schoolgirl while he’s smiling. Pff, he looks pathetic with her.

When you focus again on your friends, you end up meeting Chris, a cute guy you sometimes speak with. He was in a relationship not so long ago, and you’ve already slept with him once. He’s one of the very few guys you've stayed in touch with. He’s nice and easy to talk to.

“Hi,” he offers you a smile when he’s in front of you.

“Hi, Chris,” you smile back at him.

Your friends greet him as well, and you speak about classes and all that. After a while, Jimin and Lena leave you alone with Chris.

“So how’s life going?” he asks while he resumes walking.

Beyond being cute, Chris is a very handsome guy who happens to hit the gym quite often. He’s well built, and sometimes, you wonder how his ex-girlfriend ever broke up with him. If you were to ever settle down with someone, you might choose him. After Jungkook, your subconscious tells you.

“Fine,” you shrug. “Nothing special has been going on lately.”

“Still partying and hooking up?” he asks.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you nod. “What about you?”

“I’m working hard, trying to hide the heartbreak behind books, but it’s not easy every day. Sometimes, I wish I could be like you, and get my dick wet to forget how I feel,” he confesses.

“A guy like you shouldn’t be hooking up,” you offer him a smile. “You’re the type of guy a woman wants to marry.”

Your words warm his heart.

“And believe me, sleeping with someone doesn’t help with a heartbreak.”

You don’t really know how it feels to be heartbroken, but you know damn well that sex doesn’t make you forget your emotions. Obviously, for a brief moment, you forget about everything, but it’s temporary. That’s why you like it. You don’t commit to anyone. You don’t fall in love. You just get a one-time thing with a guy you’ll forget about the day after.

Chris seems to hesitate about his next words, but you don’t push him. If he doesn’t want to say what’s on his mind, you’re not going to force him.  

“Rumors are saying something is going on between you and Jungkook.”  

For a moment, you close your eyes. You can’t believe people are already speculating about what’s going on between you.

“How?” you ask.

“Apparently, he was with a girl at a party. She was having fun with him, but she noticed he’d never look at her. He was looking at you and you were looking at him too with burning desire,” he explains.

Fuck, other people noticed it too! You place a strand of hair behind your ear while you try to calm down. In a way, it makes sense. If your friends noticed it, everybody else did too, especially the people you’d be “flirting” with. But this is something you didn’t want to hear.

“And she also said that they never fucked although he brought her to his place.”

You frown. This doesn’t sound like Jungkook at all. He’s never done that before, and it doesn’t make sense. Why would he bring someone home if it wasn’t to have sex with her?

“She’s lying,” you instantly reply. “She’s probably frustrated that he didn’t give her what she wanted, so she started spreading nonsense.”

“Well, it’s just rumors,” he says, looking at you for a second. “Nobody said it was the truth.”

When you look over to where Jungkook was standing just minutes ago with his new girl, you find the spot empty. He must have taken her somewhere more private. That thought makes you feel weird. Almost as if you’re jealous of the girl. Oh God, this is not good! You can’t be jealous!

“Well, I want you to know that it’s not true,” you offer him a smile.

When you reach the lecture hall, you attend the classes with him. The class was quite interesting. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t share this class with you, so you didn’t get to see him. It was a relief, honestly.

After that, Chris walked you home. Nobody ever did this to you, except for your friends, which includes Jungkook. He’s such a sweet guy.

“Thanks,” you say once you’re in front of the complex. “It was nice to speak with you,” you offer him a smile.

“It definitely was,” he smiles as well.

There is a little non-awkward silence between you. Your mind keeps wondering how it would feel if you ever decided to take this any further with him. For sure, it’d be great to have him as a first real boyfriend.

But you know you can’t do this. You’re too fucked up and you don’t want to hurt him. He deserves to have a nice girl with him. Someone who would be able to love him as he deserves. And that can’t be you…  

“I have to go,” he informs you. “My shift is starting in thirty minutes.”

Chris works in a coffee shop as a barista. You should definitely stop by one day to try one of his coffees.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow, I guess?” you say with some uncertainty.

You definitely wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.

“Yeah, if you want,” he smiles.

You get closer to him before you press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow then.”

You get inside the building complex, but you never look back. You want to, but you don’t do it. You’ve learned over time that it’d be a sign that you’re interested in someone, and you never want anybody to discover who you’re into. No matter how nice and charming the guy might be, you’ll never do it.

Seconds later, you’re walking into your apartment. You’re welcomed by a Jungkook walking past you.

“That was the guy you saw the other day?” he stops right in front of you, making his strong scent wrap around you.

“You’re spying on me now?” you say, taking your shoes and coat off.

“I have more interesting things to do,” his eyes lock with yours, and a shiver runs down your spine when his deep stare meets yours.

“Like what?” you raise a brow. “Promising a good fuck to a girl and then leaving her hanging?”

“Who told you that?”

The rumors are then true. Jungkook definitely brought someone here, but never slept with her. That’s new, but something you can now use against him whenever he’s being too annoying.

“So you’re not denying…” you smirk. “Never picture the big bad Jungkookie doing that.”

His eyes look away for a moment before his gaze locks with yours once more. Damn, this look makes you weak. You’d get down on your knees right now if he asked you.  

“It’s not true,” he mumbles.

“That she’s not what she’s saying,” you keep teasing him.

Jungkook takes a step closer.

“I don’t care,” he says.

You chuckle.

“You’re such a jerk,” you shake your head. “Can’t even admit you let down a girl.”

The other day’s conversation is brought back to your mind. And man, you have to tease him even more.

“Was it because you’re into guys now?” you raise a brow. “I’m warning you, I don’t like sharing.”

Jungkook steps even closer, his face is a breath away from yours. Your heart is beating at a crazy pace in your chest. His eyes are dark, which makes you understand that you’ve pushed him to the edge. If you say one more word, he’ll explode. And that’s exactly what you want.

“I already told you that I’m not gay,” his voice is so deep.

“I’m starting to doubt it,” you smirk.

“Yn,” he warns you. “Stop it.”

“Why would I do that?” your eyes scan his face. “I’m having fun.”

“You’re having fun calling me gay when you know perfectly well I’m not?” he asks, clearly irritated. “What kind of fun is that?” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it.

“Yep. Just like you had fun when you fucked me.”

You regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Jungkook’s brow furrows in confusion.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you snap, pushing past him, desperate to escape.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your wrist, just like he did a month ago.

“Yn,” he says, his voice softer now.

“Let me go,” you plead, yanking at his grip. “Please.”

You can’t do this. You can’t fall apart in front of him. If you do, he’ll know how much he hurt you. He’ll know the power he has, and you hate that.

“Not until you repeat what you said.”

“You heard me,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m not repeating it.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

That’s it. You snap.

“Fuck you,” you nearly scream.

You try to pull your wrist from his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. Not harshly, but firmly, like he needs you to stay. Like if he releases you now, something between you will unravel for good.

He’s stronger than you—physically, yes—but right now, he also has the upper hand emotionally. And he knows it. Still, his grip isn’t meant to hurt you. It’s to hold you in place long enough for the truth to rise to the surface.

Your eyes lock with his, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely exposed. Stripped bare. Not because you’re angry, but because you’re heartbroken. You’ve been pretending you’re fine, like none of this mattered, but here, under his gaze, there’s nowhere left to hide.

No man has ever made you feel this raw.

You realize with terrifying clarity: you’re falling for Jungkook. Maybe you always were. Maybe all these years, under the laughter and sarcasm and closeness, it was already there, waiting to bloom.

You want to blame him for everything. For that night, and for letting the air between you become so sharp and bitter. But the truth is, if it were just sex, you wouldn’t be hurting. You’ve slept with others before. They were bodies, motions, and noise. Nothing stayed.

But him? He stayed. He’s under your skin. And that night? It meant something. It wasn’t just heat and skin; it was more. It was the way he kissed you with passion, and the safety in the way he held you after.

Your voice trembles, but you say it anyway.

“I said… you had fun when you fucked me.”

The words don’t explode. They land softly. Bitter. Tired. But not accusing. Just honest.

Jungkook is close. So close you can feel the faint warmth of his breath on your cheek. One more step and his lips would meet yours. He doesn’t move. He just looks at you like he’s really seeing you for the first time—not the shielded version of you, not the flirty, not the sarcastic girl who throws jabs to hide her pain. He really sees you.

At first, he says nothing. Because at first, he doesn't understand. He’s thinking of that night, how it felt like the most natural thing in the world to have you in his arms. Of course, it was fun. But suddenly, he realizes this isn’t about sex. Not even close.

You weren’t saying it was fun. You were saying you meant it. And that it broke you to think he didn’t. He lets go of your wrist. But his eyes never leave yours.

“Yn,” he breathes, voice low. “You think I didn’t care?”

“That’s what you said,” your voice almost sounds childish.

“I never said that,” he frowns.

“Yes, you did,” you reply. “You said those words the morning after.”  

He remembers. He said those words to Taehyung when he didn’t find you the next day. He thought you had run away like you did with the others. For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, blaming himself for all the chaos he caused.

“I was hurt,” he confesses. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought you considered me as a one-night stand.”

You surprise yourself when your hand lands on his cheek to stroke it. This comforting gesture makes him rest his face on your hand. He missed your warmth. He actually missed you.

“I have to confess that at first I ran away,” you admit. “I was scared about what happened and what it meant, but then, I decided to pick up some croissants for breakfast. When I came back home, I heard you, so I went to my room because those words hurt me.”

What you both realize now is that you’re both stupid. This was all a misunderstanding.

Surprisingly, Jungkook chuckles as you lay your forehead against his chest. His strong arms wrap around your body, holding you close against him.

“We’re so stupid,” he whispers.

You groan against him before wrapping your arms around his waist. You’ve spent this past month hating him unnecessarily. If he was a dickhead, then you were an asshole.

“More than stupid,” you mumble.

You lift your head to look at him. His gaze is different now. It’s not filed anymore with that hatred you’ve gotten to see for the past weeks. And you want to get lost in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologies. “I’m so sorry,” he says while his hands cup your face.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. But you’re interrupted by the doorbell. You both close your eyes before stepping back.

“I had invited Taehyung to come over,” Jungkook informs you.

You nod.

“I’ll go to my room then.”

And without saying anything else, you disappear into your room while your roommate opens the door to his best friend.

The next morning, you don’t see Jungkook at your place, but you don’t overthink it. You’ve been texting Chris the entire night, even though your mind was occupied with someone else—Jungkook. You’re nervous about meeting him again because you’re unsure of what to say or do.

Now, you’re walking with Chris through campus. You agreed that he’d pick you up and walk with you until the campus. You actually really like him, but only as a friend. There’s no way anything happens with him after yesterday’s conversation with your roommate.

Suddenly, the said roommate appears in front of you.

Jungkook.

He doesn’t say a word at first, but you can tell he’s not very happy to see you laughing and talking with Chris. His eyes shift to your friend for a moment, and a smirk appears on your face. Jealousy does look good on him, and there’s absolutely no way you’re letting this moment slip away without teasing him.

“What do you want?” you ask, crossing your arms and pretending to be indifferent.

“To speak with you,” he flatly replies, his tone clipped and jaw tight.

“I’m with Chris right now,” you say, looking at your friend. “So wait for your turn.” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you want to laugh but bite the inside of your cheek to hold back. He’s so easy to rile up, so you’re not giving in just yet.

Your roommate looks at the man next to you. His gaze is sharp, and he’s not subtle in the slightest. He’s practically shooting daggers at Chris with his eyes, and Chris definitely notices it. The tension between them is thick enough to slice through.

“Please leave us,” you add, your voice deliberately nonchalant.

Jungkook’s eyes move back to you, and man, you have to hold it together before you burst out laughing.

“I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken with you,” he insists, his voice lower now but even more dangerous.

You give him a look, mirroring his stubbornness.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” you say, throwing his words from the day before right back at him.

Just like that, you catch that flicker in his eyes. He knows exactly what you’re doing, and it hits him dead on. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.

Chris looks between you two and sighs.

“I’ll leave you two,” Chris eventually says. “Seems that you have a lot to discuss.”

Chris feels like he’s in the way, so he thinks it’s best to leave. You don’t stop him; there’s no need. Jungkook will stay, no matter what.

“See you later, then,” you offer him a smile.  

Once you’re alone with Jungkook, a wide grin spreads across your face. No matter what happens between you two, you’ll never get tired of teasing him. Watching his reactions is just too entertaining.

“Are you jealous, Jungkookie?” you ask while getting closer to him.

He looks at you with a gaze that burns.

“Is it a bad thing if I am?” he doesn’t even hide how he feels.

“No,” you honestly answer.

Your face gets closer, your lips brushing against his ear. You notice the way he shivers, and man, this feels like the biggest win of your life.

“You look hot when you’re jealous,” you whisper.

When you slowly step back, you press a kiss on his cheek, but he turns his face to bring his lips closer to yours. It’s undeniable that he desperately craves to kiss you. Just like you.

“Not here,” you end up saying. “Don’t want to break hearts.”

Jungkook chuckles before shaking his head.

“Can’t wait to be home, then,” he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek before disappearing into the campus.

This man will be the death of you.

The second you arrived at your place after classes, you looked for Jungkook in the apartment. He was sitting at the kitchen table, just finishing eating. In seconds, the plate was pushed away, your body was trapped between the table and him, and his mouth devoured yours.

“Fuck, you’re so damn addictive,” he whispers against your lips.

His hand cups your cheek with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch, his thumb brushing softly beneath your eye. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. For a moment, his eyes are simply lost before he kisses you again.

His other hand slides to your waist, while your fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. The kiss quickly deepens as all the tension from the weeks of distance, teasing, and denial erupts between your mouths. You both lean into it, mouths parting with the same hunger that once tore your clothes off, but now, there’s something else. Something careful. Something aching.

You gasp softly into him, and he swallows the sound, kissing you harder. It’s messy, and it’s heated. No doubt that this kiss will turn into him in between your legs, fucking the shit out of you. Just like it happened a month ago. However, this time, things will be different. You know that after this intense moment, Jungkook won’t get back to being an asshole to you. Well, at least that’s what you wish.

Jungkook’s hand wastes no time traveling down your waist to the side of your leg. He places his hand underneath the bottom of your dress and begins traveling upwards to feel how wet you are. You let out a soft gasp as his fingers begin traveling up the side of your leg.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, stepping back to take a full, hungry look at you. “How did it feel to provoke me every day for the past month?”

A slow smirk curves on your lips as you remember every time you pushed his buttons, every look, every comment.

“Fantastic,” you reply. “Honestly? I could do it forever.”

He leans in, his voice low, his breath grazing your ear.

“Then I guess it’s my turn to make you pay for it, isn’t it?”

You feel the shiver run down your spine, the air between your bodies thick with the kind of electricity you’ve both pretended not to feel for weeks.

“Oh yeah?” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest. “And what exactly do you plan to do, Jungkook?”

He grins, that cocky smirk you’ve both hated and loved, and pulls you flush against him.

“Something that’ll make you think twice before you ever call me gay again,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours with a heat that makes your knees weak.

His mouth crashes into yours. There’s no hesitation this time. His hands grip your waist, yours bury in his hair. His kiss is fire, but it’s not just lust. It’s anger, tension, longing, all tangled up in the month you’ve danced around this.

You break apart for a second, breathless, lips tingling.

“Still want to tease me?” he growls softly.

“Always,” you whisper.

Then his lips are on yours again. He begins rubbing you over your underwear, which makes you gasp. His other hand makes its way to your breast and begins caressing you over your dress.

“Jungkook…” You moan, and this time you feel him pull his hand away.

He takes a step away from you and slowly drags his eyes over your body. He can’t believe that this is truly happening. For the past month, he’s been dreaming about it, and he has also masturbated himself a lot while thinking about you.

“Sit,” he says, motioning for you to move backward to sit on the kitchen table. He comes in your direction and takes a proper look at you. “Now, spread your legs.” 

As you open your legs a bit, you feel your dress going up, revealing a bit more of your skin to your roommate. 

“Wider, I want to get a good look at you.”

You do as he says and feel the hem of your dress rise up to the top of your thighs. As he kneels down in front of you, Jungkook pulls the hem of your dress up to your stomach and reveals your lace panties.

“Wow, I love these panties,” his eyes look up at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“I only wear pretty stuff, Jungkookie,” you smile back at him. “You should already know that.”

He rolls his eyes before he places his hands on your thighs and slowly begins kissing his way towards your aching core. His face meets your clothed folds, and he bites his bottom lip, definitely very impatient to taste you. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you all over again,” he whispers, his voice rough with anticipation.

“Then, do it,” you murmur, breathless.

He lets out a low chuckle, brushing his lips near your neck.

“Somebody’s desperate,” he teases, the smirk in his voice unmistakable, while his hands rest on your thighs. You feel goosebumps rise up when his fingers linger on you. 

His fingers slowly dance up and down your thighs, and you lean your head back and close your eyes, loving the feeling of his fingertips on your skin. Jungkook leans closer and suddenly brings his lips to your other thigh, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your hands find their way to his hair, your fingers intertwining with his dark locks. You need him inside of you now. His mouth, his fingers, his tongue, just something.

One of his fingers brushes against your already soaked panties, and he groans against your skin as he feels your arousal.

“Mmm, baby,” he starts saying against your thighs, “you’re turning me on with how wet you already are.” 

Suddenly, he removes his lips and fingers, and that feeling makes your walls clench around emptiness. Damn, you’re dying to feel him touching you again. You suck in a deep breath as you feel him slowly pulling your panties down your legs.

“Shit, I missed this pretty little pussy,” he admits.

There’s absolutely no doubt that you missed each other over the past month. Not just in the heat of lust or the craving of skin on skin, but in the quiet spaces too. You missed the way he made you laugh without trying, and the way his presence used to make the world feel a little lighter, a little less cruel. He missed the way you used to nudge him when he was too serious, how your eyes sparkled when he’d throw a bad joke, and how your voice always cut through the noise in his head like clarity.

You both felt the void in different ways—him, in the silence of midnight when he couldn't sleep; you, in the middle of a crowded room where no one quite made you feel as seen. No hookup, no distraction filled that emptiness.

And now that you’re standing this close again, feeling the heat of each other’s breath, the truth crashes in like a tidal wave: you didn’t just miss the sex. You missed him. And he missed you. Deeply. Desperately.

But right now, all you want is to feel his touch and to feel his long fingers inside of you. You spread your legs wider, hoping he’ll give you something, anything. A smirk appears on his angelic face, clearly understanding how desperate you are for his touch. 

He trails a finger up and down your slit. His touch is featherlight and simply not enough. You want more than that. You want him to finger you until the only thing that can come out of your mouth is his name. 

You let out a barely audible moan when you feel two of his fingers slowly spreading you open, exposing your heated core. His fingers gather your slick and rub it around your pussy before you feel the tip of his fingers slipping into your core. He flicks his thumb over your clit before softly rubbing. 

You quietly move your hips, trying to urge him to go deeper into your core. Jungkook heeds your wants and slips his fingers in slowly until he reaches his second knuckle.

You grab the edge of the table and open your legs fully as you keep moaning like a mess. Your breath slightly quickens as you feel Jungkook pump his fingers in and out of you without any shame. Your roommate looks up at you, enjoying seeing you twitching with pleasure. 

His lips find their way to your wet core before he slowly starts licking at it. This is already too much for you, but you’re loving every second of it. You pull his hair quite harshly, making him groan against your clit and his groan echoes in your body. He takes your nub between his lips and softly flicks his tongue against it, causing you to see stars. As he hears your breathing quicken, he can tell you’re getting close.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

“Tell me, baby,” his eyes rest on your figure.

“I need you inside me,” you mumble.

“What if I want to tease you a little longer?” he says while adoring the way you’re writhing with pleasure.

“Then do it,” you instantly reply.

Jungkook stands up, his fingers still inside you, to kiss you. His lips are covered in your arousal, and fuck, he looks like an absolute god. This vision alone can make you come. He presses a sloppy kiss against your lips.

While kissing him fervently, you grab his shaft and massage it through his pants. A deep groan falls from his lips. A smirk grows on your face when you catch his instant reaction.

“Teasing”, you begin, “is a game I can play too,” you whisper in his ear before biting the lobe with your teeth.

In no time, you’re unbuckling his pants to push them with his underwear. Your hand fully holds his cock, his mouth finds yours, and you both pleasure each other at the same pace. It’s incredibly hot, and something you never knew would happen in your entire life.

Jungkook closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your velvety walls around his fingers and your hand on his dick. You’re both so lost in your own pleasure, but that isn’t enough. You both need more.

Suddenly, he removes his hand and quickly spins you around until your back is pressed to his chest.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for the past month,” his lips press a gentle kiss on your neck.

You close your eyes as he gently kisses your neck, his hands moving along your body. His lips and hands make you shiver.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the feeling as his lips slowly and gently kiss your neck. The soft brush of his mouth sends a shiver down your spine, awakening every nerve under your skin. His breath is warm against your neck; man, he’s driving you crazy. Not the way around.

His hands travel your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist before gliding up your sides. The contrast of his rough palms and your sensitive skin makes you shiver uncontrollably. It’s as if he’s relearning you, mapping you with touch, memorizing every reaction.

He pulls you a little closer, and your body molds instinctively to his. His kisses deepen slightly, his mouth lingering longer, his teeth grazing ever so gently against your neck. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel his growing erection against your ass, and you feel his grip tighten just a little in response.

“Flirting with guys right under my nose,” he whispers against your skin. “And constantly teasing and provoking me.”  

“Do I even need to talk about you?” you say, his hands still moving along your body. “You’d eye fucking me while dancing with random chicks.”

“Well, how couldn’t I when you were looking at me with so much hunger?”  

Jungkook carefully bends you down over the table. His very hungry eyes take a quick look at your body. Your ass is now on full display for him, and fuck, he adores it.

In no time, he grabs a condom from his pocket to put it on his length. Seconds after, you feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your wet folds.

“You look pretty like this,” he says while bending to press another kiss on your neck.

“I’m always pretty,” you clap back.

“I’m not saying the opposite.”

Since you’re soaking wet, he buries himself easily and in one motion. Both of you hold back your moans. 

“Fuck, yn!” he gasps and gives you both a moment. 

He has been dying to do it for the past month, and he feels euphoric to finally do it. His hands grab our waist as he slowly moves out of you, leaving only the tip of his length inside. He slams his cock inside of you with a harsh thrust, and you don’t hold back your moan as your arms give out and you fall forward flat on the table.  

“Fuck, this is better than in my dreams,” he whines as he sets a pace. 

“In your dreams?” you even manage to tease him while he’s fucking you hard on the kitchen table. “You were that fucking desperate…” you smirk.

Instead of replying, he just goes harder, showing you no mercy. Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust. The kitchen is only filled with the sound of his hips meeting your ass as well as the creaking table underneath you. Both you and he moan louder and louder, and man, this is more than wonderful. It’s ecstatic, it’s addictive, and it’s overwhelming.

His grip on your waist is strong as he fucks you deep and relentlessly. After all this time, after all this pent-up tension, you’re both getting lost in this moment. It feels beyond great. Nothing has ever felt as great as this right here. No other hookup can even come close to this moment.

Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body. His thrusts become more and more brutal and deep, and you swear that you could feel him in your stomach. You slowly feel your orgasm building within you.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns and feels your walls clench around him. “Fuck, don’t tease me.”

“Or what?” you dare to tease me.

“You’re such a fucking tease!” he groans.  

Your hand slides down to your clit as you want to cum as soon as possible. Jungkook pumps into you even harder. You know that in a matter of seconds you’d be creaming his cock.

“Kook, gonna cum!” you try not to scream but it’s basically impossible with the pace and strength that he’s fucking into you. 

Next thing you know, you’re coming and pulsating around his thickness. He keeps fucking you through your high and he looks with marvel how you’re creaming his length. His breathing is heavy and you can feel that he’s about to cum. And it doesn’t really take him long to fill the condom up with his cum.

“Fuck!” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the table as your breathing slowly settles back to normal. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, throws the condom in the garbage, and helps you to clean.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper, still breathless, as you pull your panties back on and glance over at your roommate.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, his smile lazy and satisfied. He buttons his jeans and walks back over to you, pressing a few soft, lingering kisses to your lips.

“It was,” he agrees, his voice warm and quiet.

You both collapse onto the kitchen chairs, the air between you thick with everything that just happened, and everything it might mean. Neither of you speaks at first, both staring blankly ahead at the kitchen sink, like it somehow holds the answers.

After a few beats, you finally break the silence. “Just so you don’t freak out after,” you begin, your voice tentative but steady, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You reach for him, your fingers finding his and intertwining naturally, like muscle memory.

“I’m staying… if you want me to,” you add.

He turns to look at you, and that familiar, boyish grin spreads across his face, his doe eyes glowing with something tender and real. “If you’re staying,” he says, squeezing your hand gently, “then I’m staying too.”

A week later

Things with Jungkook are completely different now. He isn’t just your roommate anymore. He’s way more than that. He’s back to being your best friend, but he’s also your fuckbuddy and the man you constantly kiss because you’re so damn addicted to him. It’s been hard to keep your hands to yourself when he’s around, which means all the time.

On campus, you’ve been trying to act like nothing is happening because you don’t want people to talk about you. It was already enough that they were saying you were into each other because of how you were acting before at the parties.

However, it’s been hard not to feed the rumors. When you’re off campus, you don’t hide. You hold hands, kiss in the streets, and tease each other. Anybody with two eyes can see how much you’re into each other. And when you’re partying, it’s even worse. You dance like you’re about to fuck in front of everybody.

But you’ve never been this happy.

You’re cleaning the living room with your Becky G playlist blasting in the background. You’re obsessed, constantly listening to her songs, and Bad Bunny’s too. You even managed to convert Jungkook to liking their songs.

While cleaning, you dance too and sing out loud. Thankfully, Jungkook isn’t home because he would have gotten mad. You’re always too loud—even when you have sex, but he doesn’t complain there—but you don’t care at all. You’d scream in his ears if he complains.

“No digas que no si sí,” you sing out loud. “Si te llamo tú vienes donde mí.”

You turn around in the living room with a cloth in your hands. You’re smiling while singing and dancing, it’s a song that you like a lot.

“Si no me extrañas ahora, ahorita sí,” you continue. “No digas que no si sí.”

“We can hear you in the streets,” Jungkook’s voice suddenly echoes in the room.

You don’t stop, not caring at all about his words. The song is almost over, and you want to enjoy it until the end. Once the song ends, it switches to OTRO CAPÍTULO—your favorite. A smile tugs at your lips as you immediately start dancing in Jungkook’s direction. That familiar, adorable grin grows on his face the moment he recognizes the track.

You sway in front of him playfully until he pulls you closer, his hands finding their place on your waist. You loop your arms around his neck, and the two of you start moving together, perfectly in sync.

“This one’s my favorite,” you murmur with a soft smile.

“I know,” he replies into your hair. “You play it all the time.”

Dancing with him always feels easy, natural, even magical. It feels like home.

“It’s starting to become mine too,” he admits after a moment. “Taehyung won’t stop teasing me about it.”

You laugh, letting the sound float between you.

“Guess I’m a good influence.”

“Not sure I’d go that far,” he teases, though his smile says otherwise.

Still holding your hands, he spins you gently before bringing you back to him. Your fingers stay laced together as they settle at the level of your waist, and your bodies keep moving to the rhythm, wrapped in shared warmth and something deeper neither of you dares to name out loud yet.

Then his voice drops, quiet but certain.

“You’ve broken my heart in ways no one else ever could.”

You blink up at him, surprised but not hurt. There’s a softness in his gaze that tells you it’s not blame. It’s love.

“What a privilege,” you tease, smiling to hide the sudden lump in your throat. “Might have to keep breaking it, then.”

Of course, it’s the last thing you’d ever want. Hurting Jungkook would destroy you.

“Go on, break my heart,” he says, more serious now. “Just promise you’ll be the one to put it back together.”

Your throat tightens. You nod.

“Only if you promise the same.”

Neither of you stops dancing. Even with the seriousness hanging between you like an unspoken vow, your bodies move as one. The music plays on, but all you hear is each other.

“I’ll always pick up every piece,” he says softly. “No matter who breaks it.”

“And I’ll do the same.”

The moment stretches—intimate, quiet, wrapped in the soft pulse of your favorite song. And maybe that’s what love is. Not a grand gesture or perfect timing, but dancing in your living room with someone who sees every part of you and still wants to stay.

This is how two best friends stop pretending. This is how a real love story begins.

And if letting Jungkook hold your heart means he might break it? Then, so be it. Because he’s also the only one you’d trust to put it back together again.

[madamechrissy]

If I didn't Know Better

Pairings - Sylus x f! reader

Summary - You are arranged married to the powerful Sylus, sight unseen- and the moment you meet him, the two of you butt heads. He seems so arrogant and self sure, and he sees you as a bratty little Kitten - but that first night changes everything. Your duty is to make heirs, but Sylus gives you the choice - not to be with him for duty, but because you choose to. You both find yourselves interested to learn more and more- but just because it's good, does it mean you're in love?

Warnings- NSFW- This is SO smutty, fluffy, cute and sweet! Arranged marriage trope, a lil bit enemies to lovers, oral (f and m receiving) explicit sex, Sylus calling you Kitten and sweetie bc YES, teasing, asking for consent ofccc, talking you through it, getting 'tied up', cervix kissing, riding Sylus and making him whimper, lil bit of a spit kink hehe - you know there's a breed kink - happy endinggg - oneshot- wc- 11k!

Based on the Arranged Husband Sylus headcanons! Happy birthday to my Aries Dragon <3 Comments/rbs appreciated if you enjoy!

The rustle of silk and the clicking of your heels along the marble floor is the only sound that seems real as you descend the altar steps, as your pounding heartbeat resonates in your ears and drowns out the organs playing in the background. The dress you wore was a pristine white, along with a ruby red brooch that the attendants had pinned on your bodice, and fuck it feels heavy, a weight of the truth.

You’re about to be his.

You’re going to belong to him, a stranger. You eye him across the room in a bit of a daze, as eager onlookers study you, as if every step you make is being assessed. You can barely breathe with the pressure, let alone comprehend that you're about to marry a stranger you have only heard rumors of.

Sylus.

His name echoes in your mind, a dark, enigmatic man - some know him as a philanthropist, but rumors are there is much more to him. The dark interior of this grand hall, all reds and blacks and antique, are a stark contrast to the soft, romantic notions usually associated with weddings. You wear white, and it’s even more of a contrast to what is happening around you.

You had dreams of a day where you’d fall in love, you were still young, at least too young to marry in your opinion, you’re twenty four, and that to you is still plenty of time to find love. Though, your work tended to leave you always on assignments, always busy before this, so love was not on your mind. But the choice being taken away from you is hard to swallow.

You didn’t have parents to talk to about this, just a guardian who’d arranged this long ago. You have no clue just what you’re getting into, are the dangerous rumors true, is he ruthless? The leader of a dark, underground crime ring, or are they mere fiction, and he’s the sweet, generous hero of the N109?

This isn't a romance. This is an arrangement. You must do your duty.

Duty, always duty.

As you finally stand before him, endless steps across the elegant hall, your gaze instinctively locks onto the figure before you, and your heart skips just a beat. To say he was handsome was an understatement, the man in front of you is much more. Sylus is breathtaking, a sculpted masterpiece of sharp angles and striking features that you’ve never encountered. 

He’s insanely tall, towering over you and everyone in this room, silently watching behind their masks, as if this were a masquerade. Sylus is wearing a blood-red suit screams power, and mirrors the color of his ruby eyes, god those eyes, lidded and framed with dark lashes, in contrast to silver locks. Those eyes that seem to pierce through you now, glinting in the dim lights.

His lips part just a bit, full and glossy, as his insane eyes are assessing, judging, dragging them down your face, and across your body, you feel it so vividly- like a fucking caress. God he is beautiful, undeniably so, but a chilling undercurrent of danger radiates from him, causing your fingers to tighten around the bouquet, the mix of black and red roses.

You’ve heard whispers, rumors that paint him as the richest man alive, a titan of industry, and a force to be reckoned with. You knew you were marrying into power, but the reality of it is far more overwhelming than any briefing could have prepared you for, money is one thing, this was quite another, intense power and energy unlike anything you’ve ever encountered.

Sylus frowns at you, feigning disinterest, but he loves beautiful things, his manor is full of the finest jewels, rarities from centuries prior, and the finest art. The finest music, anything beautiful was something he collected, and of course he enjoyed a beautiful woman, but nothing quite has prepared him for you and just how stunned you’d have him.

You’re trembling just a bit as you tilt your head up, the brooch settled right on your intricate bodice, he watches your breasts rise and fall with your nerves, perfect and silken skin, pressed up high from the corset of the gown. Sylus tenses just a bit, he hadn’t expected this, this beauty of yours was not exaggerated, no perhaps it was understated.

Your eyes are full of apprehension, of fear, but they’re gorgeous how they glitter under your lashes, your lips stained with the same ruby red that adorned those roses, as if they themselves had stained them. Your body is perfect in its silhouette, you’re so small compared to him, most people are of course- his neck hurts from constantly having to look down at others with his huge frame.

But this was different.

He has a vivid image of just how easy it would be to pick you up like you’re nothing, to carry you and sit you right on his bed. Your scent, something so familiar yet foreign, fills his nostrils, as intoxicating as your beauty. For a moment he can’t even think of just a word to describe you, he planned to complain about the wait, he needed this done with after all, the loss of some of his freedoms.

But he finds it hard to think when you’re right here.

Then you notice it, you see on his shoulder as something lands, drawing your attention in the eerily quiet hall. Perched on his shoulder, a mechanical crow sits, its metallic eyes blinking with what appears to be genuine confusion, a gold coin in its beak.

"What's a crow doing here?" The words escape your lips before you can filter them. It was a genuine question, born out of surprise and a desperate attempt to break the suffocating tension and quiet, but big mistake.

His reaction is immediately full of irritation, his gaze hardens, and you feel the full force of his displeasure. It's clear: you've committed some grave fucking offense.

"Don't dare disrespect Mephisto." He growls, the first words you hear from him, and god if the man’s voice isn’t as sexy as it was intimidating,  a deep, raspy rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Is that desire or fear!?

Both!?

You feel the heat in your cheeks now, as others murmur around you, going on about ‘how dare you offend your husband like that’ which just makes you curse internally. The room was filled with those who orchestrated this union, the judging faces all around you. The very room seems to shrink around you, practically suffocating with all these fucking eyes on you, it seems one comment and you’ve already offended everyone here.

Including the irritated, arrogant man in front of you, as Sylus himself fixes you with a glare that could melt steel. "Now, on with the wedding. You’re late."

Late!? You are on time, holy fuck you’d been preened and done up like some stupid damn doll, and he has the audacity to call you late!? You feel it now, the anger and annoyance, because really fuck this, not only has the man got a crow cawing and flapping at you, he’s going to also be a whole dick?

"I am not late! I'm on time!" You stomp your foot just so, as he scoffs, raising a thin silver brow.

“We’ve been waiting, and I hate to be kept waiting.” You roll your eyes, arms crossed under your breasts.

“I’m here now, let’s just get on with it.”

“Lets,” comes his bored tone, a dismissive sound met with it that only ignites your irritation at this man’s audacity. He turns to the masked man holding an enormous, faded black book. “On with it.” 

Is that all he had to say?

This man.

The ceremony proceeds in a blur, a fucking whirlwind as you panic now, the crow cawing it’s agreement, and you see Sylus actually smile - at the fucking crow - as if he’s marrying him instead, while the priest's words are an echo. You barely focus when the vows are exchanged, Sylys couldn’t look more bored.

The thing was, he didn’t seem cruel. Just so bored!

As if this is exciting for you, you’re giving up your entire life. The exchange of your vows feels so empty, just going through the motions, you’re in your head completely, imagining a life with a stranger. One who likes a damn crow better than you already - snapping out of it only with the touch of his hand.

When he touches you for the first time?

He’s not just annoying, or pompous, or arrogant, he feels good.

Fuck him for that.

He pauses too, the tingles of your hands exchanged, making him tense up, as he struggles to focus, eyeing your little hand being held by his - something feels perfect, it feels natural, like it’s always been there. He pauses completely, Mephitsto is holding the ring in his beak, a black ring of obsidian and rubies, one he’s had for far longer than he’d admit.

Now it’s going on one of your pretty little fingers.

Your eyes met his, they were so full of fire, determination and anger despite how small you are in his comparison, cute like some… kitten. An angry kitten who thinks she has claws, but then, you seem to have them, nails filed all pointy and painted blood red, doing erratic things as he thinks of having them…

Why is he thinking this way?

It’s an arrangement.

Sylus would not be cruel or treat you poorly, but he surely wasn’t going to enjoy you, having his choice taken and being forced to just have heirs, as archaic as he himself is. “Gonna do it?” You make him glare again with your bratty little question, even as your hand trembles in his.

“Tch. Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Your eyes narrow, while he slips the ring onto your finger. The metal feels cold against your skin, fuck it feels heavy, you’re looking at it carefully, eyes now meeting his, the same ruby as your ring and your damn brooch.

Like he owns you - but you guess, he does.

Now, you’re bound to Sylus, forever and that weighs so heavy you can hardly breathe - forever with a stranger. Not for love, no, a contract, with a man you don't know, a man who already seems to dislike you. Fuck, you’re tied to a man with a mechanical crow that won’t stop cawing, while Sylus acts so casual, like nothing even happened, hands in his pockets, bored look on perfect features.

“Let’s go, I guess. Come now.” The dismissive gesture is not met with holding your hand, leading you, no, just a fucking look with eyes that bore through you. “Going to keep me waiting?”

This man!?

Soon you’re stepping - rather than being romantically carried - over that threshold, right into Sylu’s decadent mansion, as imposing as it is beautiful. He does have your luggage, the few important things that you’ve brought, handing them to two large masked men, whose eyes are following you behind those masks eerily. ‘Mephisto’ or the mechanical crow, is flying forward.

You swear the crow tells you to fuck off in his own language.

You glare at it, only for it to ‘caw, caw’ at you, and Sylus’s perfect, gorgeous face - damn him  - to look at you with an arched brow. “This way, or you’ll get lost.”

You follow him, his dress shoes glimmering as they click on his marble floor, looking at your surroundings, draped in elegance, his mansion is impeccable, gothic in fact. You peer around at the choices of black and red everywhere, there are no bright tones aside from bright rubies glinting, and the elegant chandeliers that catch your attention overhead.

Roaring fires crackle and fill it with warmth, something from so long ago, almost homey in an otherwise cold, gloomy manor, the home screams Sylus truly. He snatches up a bottle of red and one glass as the two of you pass his massive banquet hall, you suppose it’s a dining room but is basically a banquet hall. He glances at you, arrogant brow up, you want to smack his pretty face.

“Am I drinking from the bottle?” You earn his smirk.

“You want some of my wine, then?”

“What sort of host are you!?”

“You’re not a guest. More like a pest.” You scoff as he picks up another glass, with the greatest effort, clearly annoyed by your existence. “Come, then.”

You’re already tired of following him, passing those large men again, who are laughing softly and whispering at each other. “You have a mechanical crow and two weirdos living here, huh?”

“Weirdos!? Boss!” One of them says, but Sylus actually laughs softly, god that sound is way too pleasing, shaking his head and continuing to walk with his stupidly long legs, as you try to keep up.

“You’ll get lost if you don’t walk faster, sweetie.” His tone is so mocking, so annoying it drives you even more crazy, as you rush through the halls of the elegant manor, footsteps softly echoing.

“I have heels on, you know.” You’re lifting your dress up, ascending another stupid flight of stairs, trying not to notice just how nice your husband’s backside was with a flush- did the pants have to be that tight?

“You can take them off when we get to our chambers.” Finally you both get to a huge wooden double doors, where Sylus opens them with a heavy creak, as you blink in confusion.

“Our chambers? Who has chambers anymore? I… oh…” When he reveals the enormous, beautiful room you realize why it’s called that way. Soft red plush rugs over marble floors, a fireplace that he roars to life with a fucking snap - four post bed big enough for several people, black beams with a black thin curtain around them.

You blush as you do focus on that bed, its velvet blood red blankets and silky golden pillows, like something you’d expect in Dracula’s castle.

Was Sylus a vampire?

He looks like one.

Your eyes narrow, studying him then, eyeing the bottle of red. Was it blood?

“You’re staring, sweetie.” He murmurs, even though his back is turned, and he’s opening the wine bottle with a satisfying pop.

“You wish.” He chuckles once more, while you take in the rest of the room, sleek sleek dark wood furniture and high ceilings, some mix of ancient and modern that shouldn’t make sense, but it does.

“Your stare is intense.” You roll your eyes, leaning against a long side table to ease off each heel carefully, sighing in relief as you do. “I bought you a wardrobe, it’s right in that dresser.”

“A wardrobe? How would you even know…”

“Think I didn’t know about you?” Sylus eyes you now, they’re glinting, the fire casting shadows of his long, tall figure across the expanse of the room, shadows enveloping you, while you stand there, heat blooming across your cheeks.

“Did they give you all the statistics first?” Your question is full of venom, but for some reason you still scream kitten to his mind.

“Go get in something comfortable, there is a bathroom right there.” He pours two glasses of dark cabernet then, as you tentatively go to the dresser, blushing when you see the top drawer, filled with black lingerie. “Something wrong?”

“N-no.”

You’re to have his heirs, that’s the whole purpose, marrying the heir to her own fortune - though much, much less than Sylus’s - to the richest, most powerful man. To have a family and babies was good for his image, and of course everyone must have pressed him to do this as well, but you wonder then, would he even want to do that with you tonight?

“You don’t have to put them on, there are pajamas in the next drawer over.” You clear your throat just a bit, opening that drawer, seeing black and red silk, running your fingers gently over them, feeling the smooth texture as you peer in the mirror, and catch him eyeing you for a moment.

“You really like red, huh?” You see his smirk in the reflection, as you take the red silky slip and pull it out, delicate lace running across the neck.

“You could say so.”

“I um… could you unlace me?” Your words shoot through him then, he has never been nervous around anyone, not a man with his power, and as long as he remembers he has always been at ease with women.

You do something quite irritating.

His hand almost cracks his favorite wine glass, while you wait, brushing your hair to one side, and he slowly steps behind you. “Kitten, can’t even undress, hmm?”

“Kitten!?” You glare at him as he tugs on one of the laces, jerking you just a bit with the force, deepening your scowl.

“You’re an angry little kitten, who thinks her tiny meows are intimidating. Hmm…” He further tugs, stepping back a bit as you eye him in the mirror, biting back a gasp when you’re unlaced, and he traces his fingers down your spine. Your tummy clenches, breath catching as he does, body reacting so intensely it makes no sense. “Was too tightly laced…”

His murmur is met with him touching the criss cross marks left behind, imprinted on your delicate skin, eyeing the goosebumps that rise then, as he imagines everything he’d like to do to you. The urge to kiss your annoying mouth for the first time is almost too strong and vivid, followed by kissing every mark left by your corset. You shiver a bit, and he catches your eyes, his own dilating - almost black.

“Something wrong? You’re all unlaced now.” You pull yourself together, blinking rapidly and turning, far, far too close to this man, his hand suspended in the air, exhaling slowly, as you clutch the pajamas tightly to yourself.

“Nothing, um, over there?” He nods, when your top slips down just a bit, revealing too much of your breasts, your shoulders, he has to stop himself from touching them, stiffening just a bit.

Though he was furious he was forced into this marriage, he has to admit looking at you all the time was not something he’d dare complain about, even glaring you’re far too pretty. You back away, turning, clutching the dress, giving him far too much of a view of your skin, and he has to clutch that dresser, shutting his eyes as he feels it.

He’s hard looking at your back.

He curses softly, willing it to go down but nevertheless failing, waking back over to grab his glass of wine and sipping it, letting the rich flavor hit his tongue, shutting his eyes to push back all of the thoughts when you come out. He sees you in it, the red silk slip of material, your nipples pressed against it, as if they’re begging for his mouth to suck on them.

You stand in front of him, taking the proffered glass, and that’s when Sylus almost spits out his drink, as you down the little bit in one gulp. “Do you know what vintage that is!?”

“You’re stupidly rich, it’s fine.” You grab his bottle and pour more, he smacks your hand like you’re some bad child, making you laugh just a bit. “It’s yummy.”

“You’re supposed to savor it, tch.” You drink this a little slower, tilting your head now.

“We should get this over with, right?”

“Excuse me!?” His deep voice gets raspy, ruby eyes narrowing while you shrug just a bit, a little wine dripping down your lip, wiping it and wrecking his mind.

“Making an heir. The sooner we do it, the better, right?” He almost loses it, as you down the glass again.

“That’s a two hundred dollar gulp, Kitten.”

“Hmm, it’s tasty - crow.” You both scowl again, he sets his glass down angrily, and that’s when you feel that power of his again - intense and beautiful - it makes you pause for a moment, before you set your glass as well, turning. “So we should get on with it, right?”

“Get on with it!?” He sputters, you are by far the most insolent creature he has ever met.

“Yes, I know what we are here for, let’s not pretend with each other, all right?” You’re shaking even as you speak, when his hand brushes against your arm, and the light hairs raise from the contact, your tummy clenching.

“You’re cute, Kitten.”

“Stop calling me Kitten, Crow.”

“You know what to do then, hmm?” You nod shyly, when he lifts you suddenly, making you gasp, hoisting you on one fucking arm like you’re nothing, walking you over to his bed now. He tosses you in the middle then, leaned over you, his dress shirt falling gently open, revealing his strong, pale chest, as your heart races.

You can’t answer him, not when he laughs at you, so mocking, right in your face, and two of his hands grip your delicate wrists, pushing them over your head. You bite back a whine, you shouldn’t be soaking wet already, what the fuck was this man doing to you? You struggle to keep your composure, feeling his thick, hard length pressing under his slacks, making you flush.

He seems to notice his effects, as he leans down too close, heavy weight pressing you further into the soft mattress. “Are you scared, sweetie?”

You manage that glare again, but almost moan when you speak, just barely holding it back. “N-no. I’m fine, just do it and then let me get some sleep. I’m tired, you know.”

“Ah, I see, you think this would be quick, that’s cute.” He sighs now, releasing your wrists, leaning on an elbow and slipping his hand down your waist, slipping under your silk shirt, touching all your skin on your waist, humming quietly to himself. He wants to whisper of your beauty, but holds himself back, instead smirking so mockingly at you.

“Sylus just-” He slams his lips down on yours then, plush and firm, and your thighs grip his hips, as you sigh into them, your hands gripping his luxe blankets. He delves his tongue inside your parted lips, hot and messy and nothing like you’ve ever felt before - making your tummy flip with desire.

“Just what?” He murmurs softly, eyes lit up so bright it’s difficult to even look at, sighing now as he studies your body slowly, thumb brushing your nipple over your soft silk, bringing it to tighten and press harder on the fabric. You cry out before you can stop it, and the sound ends him.

But as badly as he wants to fuck you?

He won’t if it’s not your choice, if it’s to ‘get it over with’. He’ll only do this if you beg for it, writhing under him soaking wet, and even then, you have to want it, for more than your situation. He doesn’t tell you just yet, because god he is loving toying with you, eyeing you under dark lashes as he unbuttons your shirt, one by one, maintaining his casual stance as he throbs for you.

Fuck his cock twitches when he reveals one of your perfect, pretty breasts, breath ghosting over the sensitive nipple. “What are you… doing, I- ah!”

You’re gripping his silken hair before you could think any better, pulling at his roots, while he sucks your nipple into his hot, hungry mouth, making your cunt gush until he can fucking feel it, your heat, even over his clothes. Your back arches, bringing your cunt further against him, he almost shakes with how badly he is filled with the need to take you, barely holding himself in.

“You seem to enjoy this a lot for wanting to ‘get it over with’. Hmm?” You don’t acknowledge him, letting go of his hair only to grip it again as he sucks your other nipple into his mouth, hand trailing over your tummy, feeling it tremble under his touch. “Something wrong, sweetie?”

“No… I just… ngh…” He’s brushing his fingers over your hot, slick pussy, groaning out as he does, eyeing you while he balances himself over you.

“Awfully wet for your duty, aren’t you?” You glare again, just making Sylus grin, white teeth glinting as he kisses down your body, tasting your sweetness, lapping a trail down the valley between your breasts, kissing lower and lower, his hands now on your waist as your thighs tremble.

“What are you doing?” He laughs again, against your skin, making it tickle, you’re getting wetter just from that, your entire body reacting to every soft brush of his lips along your skin.

“I enjoy playing with my food a bit, before I eat my meal.” Your shorts are slid down your thighs now, you’re closing them just a bit as he sees all of you, so intimate you can’t make some witty reply.

“A meal?” Your weak little squeak would amuse him if he wasn’t staring at the prettiest pussy he’s seen, fuck even it’s like art to him. He thumbs your plump lips apart, watching the slutty little hole pouring wetness out of it, making him groan, inhaling you and sighing. “Are you like sniffing me, just get up here and- oh, oh I-”

Your words are cut off as his tongue slips up your slit then, you cry out at how fucking good it feels, hot eager tongue slipping up and collecting the juices there- then when he tastes you, his nostrils flare, lips glossy from you. His hands grip and press into your thighs, losing the tentative control he has with just how sweet his bride happens to be.

“You taste so sweet for a bratty little thing.” He smirks, those glossy lips shimmering with you, and you can only blush in response, breaths so fast you feel yourself overheating. “So quiet suddenly, where’s all that talk, hmm?”

Your only words are muffled moans as you try to cover your mouth, screaming out when his tongue laps at you again, this time on your clit, moaning as you feel it, sensitive, twitching in response. Suddenly your arms are bound by swirling red energy, thrown over your head, and he chuckles at your expression - eyes already fucked out, mouth open in a gasp.

“What is this, your… evol?” You’re not well versed with this sort of thing - you’ve only heard things. He chuckles, breath alone making your clit twitch in response, which he avidly stares at now, humming to himself as he spreads you wider.

“I’d like to hear those moans, so I need you to stop covering them. Now…” He drags your ass closer, you feel the lines of his teeth as they’re against your cunt, and you’re already dangerously close. “Has anyone drank you, kitten?”

“Drank me!? I… oh fuck, fuck!” You’re whining as he teases you, body twisting under his firm hold, his fingers are pressing into the plush of your inner thighs, slurping you up then - yes, drinking you - as if you’re wine he’s downing, except that he’d sip, not devour.

“Oh you love it, don’t you? Thought you wanted to get it over with, but she’s soaking wet f’me.” Sylus fucks you with his tongue then, your gummy walls fluttering around his wet muscle, as you feel the very texture inside you, yanking at your own arms and gritting your teeth not to scream.

You fail completely.

Letting go and hoping those two men weren’t just - what listening, or that damn crow wasn’t somewhere cawing about this - your hoarse cries echo in his enormous, elegant room, mixing with the crackling of that fireplace and Sylus’s loud moans while he sips every bit of you up. His tongue fucks you, long, so long, while he eyes you, red ruby eyes glinting with hunger.

“What is… you are… oh my…” You’re getting toppled over that goddamn edge now, when his straight, perfect nose bumps your engorged clit, and he curls his tongue up, you can’t stop it, your orgasm starts in your tummy, hot and torturous before it spreads through every inch of your body. “Sylus!”

Sylus pulls back finally, licking his lips, you flush as you see the mess you’ve made of his perfect features, when he grins down at you, psychotically hot, and you’re so disoriented you can barely understand. “And do you like fingers buried inside you, sweetie?” He asks, you just bite that lip one more time, nodding.

He shoves two fingers inside you, studying your face like a predator would his fucking prey, groaning as he watches you now, feeling your quivering hole gripping and spasming around his lengthy fingers. You’re so ready for him it’s ridiculous, imagining him naked- god you can feel those muscles, that cock.

He’s got you cumming again like it’s nothing for him, like he’s in twenty minutes figured out your body better than you do. You’re writhing under him, crying from the force of them, of cumming over and over as he watches with pure delight, dying for more, to feel him so deep, but you can’t even articulate it.

“So beautiful like this,” he’s sucking on those fingers, cheeks hollowing, moaning again at your taste, when he lets go of your wrists, and you respond by pressing your nails into his back over his dress shirt, earning his moan. “Sharp little claws.”

“Fuck, I’m ready please no more teasing… I c-can’t take it…” he sighs then, standing and confusing you. He waltzes over to grab wine then, sauntering back to you with a sway of his hips, though you see it - the huge outline of his cock. “Sylus, I said I’m ready.”

“For your duty, right?” You hadn’t even thought of duty, of anything but him then, you try to focus, clearing your throat, when he tilts your chin up, your hair falling back, lidded gaze on him. “No, I’ll sink my cock inside that pretty cunt when you ask me too, not because you have to.”

God what is this man!?

You just blink as he leans down, fingers gripping your chin, taking the glass of wine and pressing it to his lips. “You’re… wanting me to decide?”

“Mmhmm. Open that pretty mouth.” You do as he says, how can you not? And he sips that wine then, humming as he leans over, pouring the wine in your mouth from his, you swallow it down, the action itself causing that ache to build. He pulls back as you look up, wiping a droplet from your lips. “So you can listen.”

“I… huh? You… aren’t you sleeping in here?” You ask softly, he sighs then, pressing a kiss far too sweet to your forehead.

“I sleep during the day mostly,” is he a vampire!? “But I’ll lay with you when you want me to as well, not until then. I expect an answer when I get back.”

“What, like how long?” You hop up, dressing quickly, and he pauses at the door, looking back at you.

“Less than a week, I had to put the mission on hold for the wedding. When I’m back, you let me know what you decide - my role as your husband.”

He leaves then, and you feel empty without him, cold even, stumbling over to his expensive, fancy wine, about to gulp it down, then sighing, sipping it instead, looking at the fire still roaring. You pull up a seat, sitting in front of it and watching as the flames lick and snap, thinking of the man you’ve just married.

Who is he?

*****

You’re trying to actually go out, tired of getting lost in Sylus’s mansion a few days later, and you swear he’s cursed it at first, you couldn’t find the damn front door for days! His staff makes sure you have everything you need, but you’re alone, nothing but a phone Sylus bought you, with one damn number- his.

He texts you mockingly the next couple days, as you finally get the two men - Luke and Kieran - to escort you out, so you can breathe fresh air, but they just follow you like lost puppies- as Mephisto circles overhead. Every time you look at something they’re just buying it for you.

“I didn’t even-”

“Can’t make the boss look bad.” Luke scolds, buying you a pretty bracelet that you’d just touched.

“Not with all these eyes.” Kieran agrees, and you touch a little rose, cursing as he buys that now too. “Everyone knows the boss.”

“Caw!”

“Mephisto I didn’t ask you!” You scowl at the crow, and it flaps its wings at you, cawing even angrier. You finally get your phone out, video calling the only number, surprised when he actually answers.

“I’m busy, what is it?” He says, and you take in his surroundings, likely some fancy suite as he sits with his gun.

“Busy? Not a way to greet your wife.” He rolls his ruby eyes now.

“Mmm, and what does my wife need?”

“To know why are these two bozos following me everywhere I go and watching me like a hawk, hmm?” 

“Bozo, who’s a bozo huh?” Luke crosses his arms then, tilting his head, and Kieran does the same.

“Boss, you need to get your girl under control.” Kieran says.

“Caw!” Mephisto is circling you, as you’re just trying to shop, but no of course now you’re all a spectacle, everyone is whispering about the three - four if you count Mephisto- of you all standing there.

That’s Sylus’s wife!

She seems a little angry.

She’s yelling at that bird!

Oh fuck everyone.

You sigh as Sylus laughs at you. “You seem really worked up, do you need anything?” His intentions are clear, and you act as if it’s the sun warming your skin and not his words.

The memories.

His tongue and fingers pushing you to climax over and over, god your tummy clenches just thinking of it. And missing a man you barely fucking know - one that you want to learn, a mystery of a person truly. What was there about him that was making you this way? 

“What I need is to not be babysat by these two, and your crow! Everywhere I go.” You’re scowling at Sylus’s amused face on the video call, as he sets you down on his desk, raising a brow and pulling out a gun, cleaning it calmly, meticulously, as if everything is peachy. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m resting before a mission, sweetie.”

“Cleaning your gun is… relaxing?”

“Mmm, you should try it.” You giggle then, you can’t help it, and the sound over the phone along with your pretty face lit by the sun does something to him then, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Would you trust me with a gun?” He shakes his head as he looks down where he’s polishing that barrel, lips quirked up.

“Absolutely not. Now,” he sets the gun down, picking the phone up and looking directly at you. “You are my wife, and that’s why they’re there - to protect you.”

His wife.

The way he says that does something, as badly as you want to be annoyed- there’s another part that’s touched by him, his care, his words, even if it’s overbearing, overprotective. You want to shove it down, the longing for someone you barely know, who overall annoys you with his arrogant attitude, but something just clicks as you meet his eyes on the screen.

“Okay fine, but… Mephisto?”

“Caw, caw, caw!”

He laughs genuinely, running a hand through his silvery locks, leaning an elbow on that table as he looks at you. “Mephisto is for me to keep an eye on you - ah there’s that cute little scowl, angry kitten.”

“You say that like you don’t purr.” Your turn to smirk as he glares, then you hang up on him, facing the two angry men now. “Look, I was rude, okay? I’m sorry.”

They look at each other, then at you, both nodding. Mephisto caws and flaps his black and gold wings, and you hold out your arm for him to land, gently touching one of his gears. “Caw?”

“I was rude to you too. I just… it’s a new, stressful situation. Maybe you all could teach me more about him?”

“About the boss?”

“We know all about the boss!”

“Caw!”

Soon the four of you are back home, and you’re in one of Sylus’s room- his music room, it seems, there is an organ that looks like it belongs in beauty and the beast itself, a record player sitting there, you gently push down the fine bronze point, as music fills the room. It’s slow and beautiful, the sounds from it, your eyes close and it’s as if you feel him there.

Every day you’ve tried to explore this mansion, slowly and bit by bit, to reveal more of the mysterious ‘boss’ and ‘leader’. But moreso, the man that instead of lying with you that night, let you have his room to yourself, pleasured you and asked nothing in return, let you have the choice.

Who was Sylus?

“Boss loves music.” Luke states the obvious, you giggle a bit, turning to look at them now.

“Well I see that. And he loves art, and pretty jewels.” You walk up to the display glasses, where he’s gathering trinkets like some dragon in a cave.

“He loves beautiful things. Probably why he was so adamant about us watching over you- oof!” Kieran gets elbowed by Luke then, and you shyly look back down at the glass, fingers hovering over, afraid to leave a print.

Did Sylus find you pretty like these jewels?

*****

One week without Sylus, and it seems like the longest week of your life- when what was without him before? You lived without him all of your twenty four years, but you find yourself giggling at his texts, playing silly phone games with him even, as if the two of you have become…

What are you?

He sends a ‘Good Night Kitten’ you send a ‘Good night Crow’.

He sent a picture of himself ‘on accident’ he says, but you don’t believe him at all, apparently he was trying to video call you and it sent - him shirtless, towel slung low over his hips, body glistening. You think he’s trying to thirst trap you - that damn man knows how fine he is and makes no act to appear humble about it. He keeps making little remarks as if you could forget that night.

Kitten seems angry, does she need something?

You find yourself sleeping in his bed alone, touching yourself to the memory of his lips sucking in your clit, humming on it, his long, thick fingers stretching you out. You can’t help yourself, every time you try to not think of him, there he is, hovering right over you. You know he’s coming back tomorrow, and you feel like he’ll get his answer then, an unequivocal yes.

Sylus walks in quietly that night, just a little early - but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was dying to see you, to feel you. Fuck, he couldn’t stop himself from stroking his cock thinking of you, remembering your sweet taste and how you coated his face with your arousal. God you did things to him, but more than that - he wonders who you are.

The teasing all week on the phone - yes, he meant to send that image - had him even more intrigued, you’re funny and smart - too smart at times. A smart ass, and he would know, he tends to be one himself. Mephisto’s reports along with Luke and Kieran were showing how they were in just a week falling for the lady of Sylus’s manor, and that’s what you were.

His.

The need to claim you is so fierce, to fucking breed you, but he must let this be your choice, he wants you to come to him. That night his steps are quiet, when he opens the door, expecting you to be asleep, but he hears it then, your whine out, that sexy little moan. He pauses, fingers gripping the brass knob, as he sees the blankets raise just a bit - hears your soft whines.

Fuck, are you touching yourself?

“Mnh! Ugh, it won’t work.” You let out a frustrated huff, shoving your blankets down, when you see him.

Shit.

“Sylus!? I thought um… you were… I had a bad dream, is all! Nothing else is going on here!” You’re panicking, as this man just smirks, shutting the door behind himself casually, taking off his black leather jacket and propping it on the coat stand then, as you shift in his bed.

“Oh, is that so? What was the dream about, sweetie?” His soft, husky voice just makes you ache more, as he so casually sits, undoing his laces of his boots.

“Um… just a weird one. Do you… need help?” You ask then, he pauses, nodding a little, watching you leave his bed now, your shorts so askew it told right on you, you’re wearing a little black top that covered nothing and a pair of black panties, revealing too much of your pretty body.

“I should ask you the same - if you need help.” He murmurs, brushing your hair back when you get on your knees before him, making his mind go wild, while your fingers tug on the thick black laces.

“Need help with what?” Your innocent question is met with your eyes meeting his, easing his boots down, one by one, placing you right between his thighs, Sylus tilts your chin up then, calloused thumb brushing your lower lip softly.

“Sounds like you were having trouble, I could help now that I’m here.” He smiles as that color hits your skin, as your cheek is hot to his touch, and your shaky hands touch his thighs over his jeans. “Shouldn’t a good husband help his wife?”

“You love to tease me, don’t you?” Your knees press against the plush rug, as you unbutton his jeans, watching the usually confident man pause, his hands gripping your hair then, at the nape of your neck, while the sound of his zipper echoes off the walls. “Something wrong, Sylus?”

“What do you think you’re playing at?” His voice breaks then, thoughts of you sucking his cock nearly ending him - it was one thing to please, he’s very confident in his abilities to make a woman cum, but seeing you like this would end him.

“Maybe I’m returning the treatment. Should I leave a week after you cum over and over too?” He glares now, standing, so lanky and tall you hardly reach him on your knees, having to look up at him, towering over you, cock outlined in silky black - begging for you to touch it.

“You have the brattiest attitude, should we do something about that?” He slips his top off then, and you’re met with that perfect, sculpted physique, tracing your fingers across a sculpted abdominal, watching his head fall back, moaning softly, making your cunt throb around nothing.

“What do you have in mind, a lesson?” He can’t stop his moan when you tug at his pants, slowly revealing more of him, until he yanks you up, earning your pout. “Do you not want me to?”

“Do I not want you to, what a stupid question, foolish kitten.” You glare again, just becoming more attractive, when he lifts you up, sitting you on his bed now, slipping off your top and moaning softly as your breasts spill out. “I don’t want your knees to hurt.”

“Oh…” You’re so touched then, by his thoughtfulness, while he slips off his boxers, revealing himself now - thick, hard and so pretty, reddened tip leaking white pearly precum. You see how big it is, almost intimidating, touching it then with your hand, feeling it burning and so heavy, and eliciting a…

Is that a whimper?

Fascinated you repeat the action, he instead this time moans softly, huskily, eyes darkening as he strokes your hair back gently. “Touch yourself for me, show me what you were doing, hmm?”

You nod, a jerky motion, as he spreads your thighs, and you reach under your panties, finding your soaking wet clit and whining, right when Sylus tugs gently at your chin.

“Open, Kitten.”

You obey him so easy, where is the feisty little thing he knows? She’s in there, but you’re sweet, pliant, shy even, as you open your mouth looking so wanton, and his cock leaks even more, twitching when he finally brushes it on your tongue. You’re lapping his sweet pre cum up then, tonguing the slit and trembling when your hands falter on your pussy.

“Rub circles on that little clit, hmm? Press up a bit. F-fuck… you’re doing such a good job, sweetie.” He’s gripping your hair as you suck him, and you do as he says, feeling your clit tighten up, as you’re ruining your panties, looking up at him under your lashes. “Beautiful…”

Beautiful.

You tremble more as he gazes so intensely down at you, staring at you like you’re the only thing there is, you know you shouldn’t think that way - you know he’s probably just enjoying this, but there is something so addictive to his look. To how he’s stroking his cock in and out of your mouth, so easy with his motions, gasping when you suck harder, tongue lolling on the ridge of his tip.

“Still can’t cum without me, hmm?” He’s whispering, but you pull back, strings of saliva dripping from his blushing tip, pulling back your fingers and showing them glistening.

“I can, I just… am failing currently.” He shocks you then, climbing onto the bed now, laying on his back. You go to suck him again, when he flips you around, dragging your panties off in one motion, then putting your thighs on either side of his head, your hot eager cunt right on his face. “Sylus!”

“Hmm, fuck I missed your taste.” Did he say that out loud? Or was it muffled into your perfect cunt? He parts your folds, seeing how wet you are as it drools down him, slipping a finger inside you. “Miss me?”

“Just a bit,” you try to tease, leaning over him now, arms on either side of his thighs for balance, hair falling against his bare thighs, as you lap a line down his cock again, making him groan. “You miss me?”

“Just a little.” He drags you back down on his face hungrily, licking a filthy line from your clit all the way to your ass, and you almost choke on him as you take him deep in your throat, body shaking over him. “Mmm, she sure missed me.”

“She did.” You admit after pulling up with a suctioned pop, and then your eyes roll back in your skull, as he sucks and hums against your clit. “M’gonna cum!”

“Mmm,” he’s just humming quicker, feeling your mouth fail to hardly move, you’re in the throes of cumming all down his handsome face. He urges you then, hands gripping the fat of your ass, pressing you down even further until his face is fucking buried against your cunt.

“S-Sylus!”

His name, you moaned his name.

You’re trying to press hasty kisses to his hips as you cum so hard you can’t think, gushing down his face and drenching him in your arousal, his face, his throat, his fucking lips. He almost cums from just that, feeling you shake and tremble while you blink back your vision, which has gone black from how hard your release rocked you, walls fluttering around nothing, dying for more.

You feel so greedy then, thinking of how badly you want him inside you, stroking his pretty cock gently, as he drinks up all he can. “Oh my god…”

“Mmm, you got wetter than last time, didn’t know that was possible.” You’re covering your nervous blush against his thigh, as he chuckles softly. “You don’t have to finish, Kitten, I can just do this.”

“Sylus, I…” You ease off him with his help, turning and straddling with trembling thighs, making Sylus tense when he feels it, you pressing on his cock, he grabs your waist bruisingly, eyeing you.

“That’s dangerous, sweetie, I can only hold back so much.” You lean over him now, lips hovering just an inch, gripping his wrists with your little hands, and he smirks up at you. “Are you a big, bad, scary kitten?”

“Maybe I am, and you’re a sweet little crow.” He scowls just a bit, only making you wetter, as you grind on him now, and he immediately loosens your grip, hands flying to your hips as his tip twitches against your slit.

“Are you…” You press him back down, making him huff, blinking up at you as his eyes glow bright fucking red, and you’re cupping his face, thumb tracing a cheek bone.

“Sylus, I have your answer.” He swallows then, breathing heavier and heavier, as his hands trail up your spine, then back down, cock leaking all that precum right against you.

“Do you now? What’s the answer then, sweetheart?”

You press a kiss on his lips, both of you taste each other, one of his huge hands entangling in your hair, as your bodies move just slightly, casting your silhouettes across the dark walls in the night. “The answer is yes, I want this Sylus. I want you.”

“Oh, sweetie…” He can’t stop himself, his emotions he always holds back, when you whisper those words. “Not just because you have to?”

His words break you, tears burning your eyes, as you shake your head. “How could I not want you?”

He’s ended then, drowning in your kisses, letting you take control - for this moment, he muses - and reach down as he lifts your hips up, and you rub his tip along your folds, earning the most pornographic and filthy moans, mixing with your soft ones as your head falls back, hair falling like a curtain down your shoulder blades. He watches you, hands holding you up, suspended, eyeing you again.

“Still sure?” You nod eagerly, he exhales at that, pressing you down just a bit, watching your tight little cunt try to suck him up and struggling, so tight he could cum just from his tip sinking in.

“Oh my god, s’big I…” You’re struggling when he yanks you forward, until you’re resting on his chest, and he’s pulling back, sliding deeper while he watches your every expression, hands slipping down to your ass to grip you.

“If it hurts, tell me, you’re so tight…” He whispers, and you nod, so touched by his care, before he sinks you half way down, groaning and kissing you now, you kiss him back, hungry, messy, your nails pressing into his shoulders. “Oh, fuck feel you, this tight around me? Does she want more?”

“Yes, yes, please…” He manages a breathless laugh, lifting you up and dragging you down more of his inches- god how many inches - stuffing you so full while you gush all around him, clinging and trembling.

“Please, is this what I had to do to make my kitten sweet?” You’d glare but he’s shoved more of his cock - how much was there god you couldn’t take it all - you’re shaking as your cunt stretches to accommodate- the pressure building in your tummy while he caresses your face, brushing your hair behind your ear and exhaling.

God, you feel perfect around him.

“You tell me when you’re ready to move.” He whispers, you nod, trying to adjust, gasping as you shift your hips and his tip drags on your spot, and he feels those walls just clench around him like a vise, eyes avidly watching your face and just how pretty it is when in pleasure.

“I’m ready, please.” Your throaty whisper destroys him, he picks you up once more, yanking you down his length fully now, you scream out at it, head falling back, your breasts right in his face, he catches a nipple between his sharp teeth. “Oh! Sylus mnh!”

“Perfect, you’re perfect.” He can’t stop it, the words from spilling, as he pumps up into your cunt now, flats of his feet on the enormous bed, jerking his cock so deep he bottoms out as much as he can in you, tip kissing your cervix.

“Ah! Mnh! F-fuck… you’re so big.” You’re sobbing the words out, when he grinds you on him, hugging your body against his, and you’re cupping his face, lips just hovering, noses touching.

“Can you take more in your perfect little cunt?” He groans as you nod, and he fucks up into you harder now, sounds of skin slapping and your soppy cunt echoing, he’s flipped you then, holding one of your thighs up high, eyeing the bulge his cock makes inside you and getting fucking feral.

“So deep!” You buck off the bed, and he moans now, slowly pulling out, sole of your foot on his chest while he watches your cunt suck him in so greedily, disappearing his huge cock in your body, watching your tummy move. Fuck he was getting ruined at the sight, but when you cry out and jerk and he pauses.

“Are you hurt?” His soft ask is such a delicious contradiction to his commanding presence, huge body tense, as you shake your head, take a breath, letting him sigh in relief as he tilts your chin down now. “Look at me inside you, can’t even take all of me, can you?”

One moment sweet, one moment sarcastic and cocky, but you cannot think of anything when you see it too, the way your stomach expands with his cock so deep. All you can do is bite your lip, hands slipping up his obliques, feeling the muscles move as he shoves hard then, it hurts so good, and he notices, repeating it then, over and over again.

“That’s it, you like that, don’t you kitten?” You weakly nod, there are no more words, not when Sylus is pounding your pretty pussy with his huge cock, leaning lower, letting your legs wrap his narrow hips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You just nod again, it’s apparently all you’re capable of as this man fucks your brain out. He moans softly when he kisses you, jerking his hips just so, as you fall apart underneath him, orgasm rocking through you, he has to pause, you’re squeezing so fucking hard and pulsing. “Ah, S-Sylus - ngh!”

“Milking my cock, already,” he’s losing it with you, fucking you through one orgasm and into another, feeling you gush down him, down your ass, his heavy balls smacking it, then futher- soaking his covers. “Fuck…”

He slows his thrusts now, laying on top of you, hand entwining as his eyes drink your pretty face in, you grip him then, struggling to breathe, as his heart races so fast against your breasts, and you both pause. You stare into endless rubies of his eyes, as he squeezes your hand so tightly, the red ropes of energy binding your wrists together even more tightly.

You look at it then, nervously, then back at him, as he stares at the connection. “Are you…”

“It’s not on purpose.” He murmurs, looking as it swirls, and you feel him throb inside you, his tip oozing against your abused cervix. “Another choice, kitten. I can cum inside your perfect cunt,” he thrusts once more, watching your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Or I can pull out, and we wait until you want it.”

Your choice, again.

But you want him inside you, buried to the fucking hilt, opening your eyes and feasting on the man on top of you. “I want you to cum inside me, Sylus.”

Fuck.

He almost busts then, but he pauses, clutching your hand and pressing you deeper into his mattress, taking you over. “You want me to fill you up, sweetie?”

“Please,” Sylus moans heavily, kissing you as he fucks into you deep, long strokes, and your hand grips him, the other entangling in his hair as your tongues dance with each other, and he pounds harder and harder. “Please, please, please- ah!”

“Fill you up so much, you won’t be able to walk, kitten.” His eyes flash dangerously as he slams into you one more time, white hot cum pouring from his cock, and when he does, the light red rope glows more, burning hot on each of your wrists as he cries out against your ear, burying his face in your neck. “Oh, fuck, f-feel her…”

You’re a pathetic mess, twitching around him as he coats those walls, trying to catch a breath. He leans up then, the ropes fading, pulling out his cock, you watch as the cum just pours out of your slutty little hole, and he delights in seeing it. A mix of all your arousal and his load is slipping out of you as your hole puckers and quivers, spasming from the aftershocks of him.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you…” He sighs as he pulls back, toying with his own cum, smirking as your hips jerk.

Is he sweet or an ass!?

Is he both?

He is something else then, when his eyes are so red they’re shining, and he’s slipping his two fingers up and down you, making your sensitive cunt throb in response, aching from his stretch. “Ah-ah, you said you wanted it, you even said please, yet here it is, wasted. That won’t do.”

“What do you- ah! F-fuck!” You’re breathless when he shoves his own cum back in your cunt, smirking down at you, silver hair falling over his brow then. “Sensitive mnh!”

“Mmm, you don’t want to keep it in? That won’t do.” He’s pouting, slipping more of the cum inside your sore little entrance, enjoying you far too much, you’re covered in a sheen of sweat, face so fucked out, there’s just a little drool on the corner of your mouth dripping.

You’re so beautiful.

“Be a good kitten.”

“Mean crow, mnh!” You yank his wrist then, taking his hand, and he glares as you put it to your lips now, lapping him off you with a stroke of your tongue, smirking right back at him. “Can’t take it?”

“You’re a brat.” He flips you over then, you gasp at it, slipping two fingers back inside you and pressing up.

“Sylus, we just…”

“Think I’m done with you yet?”

*****

Two weeks later

Sylus cannot stop fucking his new bride- no he needs to fuck her in every room of his mansion, hear her moans and cries, feel her perfect pussy clenching him. He has to make sure every inch of the room has had her arousal dripping down onto it, that he makes sure to have her taste on him constantly. He soaks in you like the sweetest perfume there ever could be.

He left for days again, in his office, and you eagerly came to meet him, kissing him deeply, only to get bent over it, his cock shoved so deep as he lifted up the skirt you’re wearing, his hand on yours over the desk. Breathing heavy in your ear, he can’t get enough of you, not even fucking close, reaching under your chin to cup it and tilt your lips to his.

“Miss me, kitten?” He whispers, and you shock him then, arching your ass for more and earning his groan, as you nod.

“I missed you.” Sylus pauses then, hand squeezes yours brutally, his other on your hip, his cock twitching inside you, as the two of you inhale and exhale each other. “Don’t stop, please.”

“You missed me?” He says again, you nod, you’re tired of acting like you don’t, like you aren’t falling for your husband.

Like he doesn’t make you so happy.

Like he doesn’t drink you up at every opportunity.

Like you don’t love being held in his fucking arms at night.

Like you don’t just literally enjoy him - his laugh, his kindness, his humor, god everything about his presence.

Like is a weak word, a wrong word…

“I missed you too, kitten.” His husky declaration is met with him fucking you harder, deeper, hand choking your throat and squeezing, taking your oxygen as he kisses you, drinking up your cries, busting his hot ropes so deep you’re cumming right with him.

When he’s done he never just leaves, no he’s cleaning you up - lapping his own cum out of your cunt eagerly as you’re spread on his dark wood desk, head falling back while he makes you cum again. He lavishes every inch of your walls as he scoops out the taste of both of you, pulling back and kissing you deeply, saliva dripping so you taste it too.

“Fuck, you distracted me. I got you something.” He murmurs then, taking a shaky breath and pulling up his pants, leaving them undone just a bit. 

“Y=you did?” You swipe at your mouth, standing with his help, when he pulls out a black, rectangular velvet box.

“I went to an auction, this belonged to a princess.” You’re gasping as you see it, glittering diamonds and rubies - almost as beautiful as his eyes.

“Sylus you didn’t have to do this…”

“No, sweetie, I do. Hold up your hair for me, turn around.” You obey his gentle orders, lifting your hair for him, feeling the cold metal hit your collarbones, as he rests the necklace on you. He clasps it now, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers dance across your neck. “Let me see.”

You turn back around and he sighs, looking how beautiful you are, your breasts rising and falling with every breath. He wants to say it - foolish words - that he’s falling, but he is terrified. A man like him, who can annihilate a room of monsters like it’s nothing, a man who is feared has just one weakness.

You.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much.” You whisper, touching it, seeing how the prismatic gems reflect the soft lights. “I love it.”

“It looks perfect on your chest.” He tilts your chin up, kissing you then. “Go get ready for dinner, I want you to wear it.

After dinner Sylus’s always perfect - until you - control slips.

You’re on his lap, as the two of you sip the wine, and you giggle suddenly, the sound that makes his heart always race. “What is it, kitten?”

“Remember you spit wine in my mouth?” He blushes then, and you giggle more. “You’re so cute.”

“Cute!? I’m not cute, that’s you.”

“Mmhmm. What if I do it to you?” He pulls you closer, brushing your hair back gently, as you sip the red wine.

“I’d let you do anything to me.” His words are so soft, so impactful then, your heart hammers as the blood rushes to your ears.

“Anything, hmm? Where's the big bad leader?” You’re trying to keep it light, teasing, but he lowers his gaze to that necklace, thumbing the delicate skin around it, making you gasp.

“I’m afraid he’s been destroyed by a kitten he loves.” You blink rapidly, the words don’t feel real, there’s no way he…

Does he…

Feel the same way?

You’re so quiet he looks away, his hand falling. “Endless ammunition I just gave you against me-”

“Sylus…” He looks back, and you’re crying then, tears streaming down your cheeks, he falters, swiping at them gently.

“Yes?” His words are quiet, careful, you lean in, cupping his face, fingers tracing his sharp jaw.

“I love you too.” He slams his lips on yours, desperate and messy, as he lifts you up, propping you on the table and shoving plates away, you gasp as they clatter down to the floor, eyes wide on him.

“Say that again, kitten. Louder.” He’s shoving up your dress, eagerly slipping his hand between your thighs, your back arches as his fingers fill you, fingers you missed for days, his lips trailing up your neck, loud, messy kisses.

“I love you, Sylus.” He exhales so shaky, pulling back and gripping your hair at the nape of your neck, fingers entwined as he finds your spot, making you drool on him, while you fall even deeper into his gaze.

“I love you, , you mean, angry little kitten. Ruined me.”

“Hey now!” You’re laughing softly, but it’s cut off by his fingers, and your laugh is turned into a desperate cry. Sylus fucks you right there, uncaring of poor Mephisto flying by, who darts out as quickly as he came, and you soon find yourself in only the necklace, on your hands and knees on his bed.

“Mine, mine…” He keeps repeating them like a mantra, pressing his thumbs in the simples of your back. “Can’t wait to breed you, god. You want that?” He whispers, bending over you, and slamming so deep, necklace dangling as he hits every spot, hands gripping your hips hard.

“Breed me.”

“What do good kittens say?” You glare, just making him closer to cumming, and he pauses, reaching around to press a hand on your tummy. “Do you want all my babies so deep inside you?”

“Y-yes. I do.” You bite your lip, and he smirks again. “Please?”

“Good girl.”

Sylus will give his pretty bride anything she wants - if it’s a mating press where he fucks endless loads of cum inside her, if it’s just holding her in his arms and stroking her hair after a bad day. He’ll give her any snacks she’s craving when one day she’s full of his babies, and he’ll make sure she stays full of him. He’ll buy her anything that catches her pretty eyes and makes her smile, he’ll sing her to sleep.

He’ll do anything for his wife, a wife he fell so in love with - some would say, he became obsessed with her.

With you.

Ahhh I hope you all enjoyed this!! I had way too much fun - I love arranged Marriage tropes and had to do one for Sylus. Happy birthday Lil S! If you'd like more Sylus lmk in the comments or inbox any ideas for our dragon bc I love him<3

taglist 1 - @moggleatlife @sunsets-and-crows @musiclover2119 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sylvieisoffline @littlecatjn @rwirxles @byssel @storiesbyparadise @saiouma-owamiki @emochosoluvr @simp-plague @thejujvtsupost @venussakura @kavya-gangwar @katcafe-zz @angelzrulez21-blog @maisiefrancesca @terriblesoup @bimbohkitty @sanzy4 @everythingseasoning @harmonyrae @tinyweebsstuff @genshingeeksworld @monster-effer @ninikrumbs @curlyhairkk @queenexplosonmurderr @lighting-and-shadow @coldhoneyy @take-metothe-moon @dairyfaerie @genshingeeksworld @uarmyhopeworldwide @sen-nes @cchiiwinkle @jellyfishstarx @iluminaya @96jnie @demon-master-zero @milkynymphsworld @justpassingdontworry @coldhoneyy @chich1ookie @satansdaughter123 @ilovegojo7

[cup-o-stars]

Relativity Falls!

Design Concepts (and my unnecessary thoughts):

Excuse the the colors, ig my apps are fighting.

I see Mabel finding success no matter what happens to her, but I really like the thought of her running an insane arts and crafts business in GF. Alternatively, if she fell in the portal, she'd come out acting confident as always, but she probably wouldn't realize how much the constant change and lack of family/stability wore her out until she settled back in. In either case, she's a bit cracked.

Dipper is investigative, but cracks easiest under stress and is not as inherently adventurous as Mabel or Ford- so the portal wouldn't treat him well. If he's not the one in the portal, he'd be into stargazing and real magic to share with people, while also warding tourists away from the dangerous stuff. In general, he'd be an unhappy adult if left to his own devices, lol.

Between Dipper and Mabel, I like Dipper being in the portal more. He's a great protagonist, but as a supporting cast member, he needs to be more insane to match the draw that is 'Mabel taking care of children,' ha. I also love the idea of there being no portal / some other looming threat for these two to struggle with (at least because Hirsche has made it clear that Dipper and Mabel are equally smart, and to me it seems like the portal would reopen way quicker with them), but I didn't plan on posting these and I don't know how my followers feel about me posting lore.

Stanford and Stanley:

Pretty much how they are in canon, but now they're in a setting where they can get over themselves, ha. They aren't quite as mature as Dipper and Mabel were at their age, but after coming to GF, they finally found other people to look out for them. Dipper could be a more emotionally available and level-headed role model (I think having people to take care of is calming for him in turn), and they'd both look up to Mabel as the peak of somebody who knows how to socialize.

Fiddleford:

He's a sweet, southern, farm-raised mechanical engineer just like in canon.

Idk why Fiddleford is in GF (visiting an unnamed grandparent?), but I really like his relationship with Ford in the journal. Following that thought, in this AU, he starts out more of Ford's friend than Stan's, and it's kind of a big deal. Unlike Dipper's arc on learning to be a kid, Stan and Ford clearly struggled a lot with interpersonal relationships / finding security outside of eachother, and that's what I think this AU could be about (it's great they realized they need each other in canon, but the part where they had no one else to turn to is also kinda crazy if you ask me).

Ford gets to meet another smart kid in a weird town, which helps him feel more normal. He has a better idea of what friendship is because of it, but also, since I can't imagine Dipper wanting an apprentice so young/vulnerable/impressionable or Mabel asking only one of the twins to stay- he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he can't live in his dream world forever. (Or maybe the apprenticeship comes from somewhere else, just because the conflict around going back to Glass Shard Beach at all, or sending Stan alone could be pretty good.)

On the flipside, I think Stan's initial jealousy of Ford and Fiddleford's friendship would force him to try finding his own friends / hobbies. I like the idea that he fails at first- and a lot- but Mabel notices his mounting frustration (which he is very keen on hiding), and her consistent and unorthodox support makes him realize he wasn't alone to begin with. He can be more open around her, which makes it easier to open up to others, and then he can make friends without having to pull any tricks. He probably starts with some animals, and then at least gets closer to Fiddleford anyways (I feel like they're both more practical than Ford and value human company more, so they'd bond easier once Stan gets over his personal hurdle).

Anyways- because that was way too much- Mabel's exes are a constant source of antagonists and Dipper is stressed about setting a good example.

(I was more of a Monster Falls fan back in the day, but I can't draw animals, lol)

[cutehoons02]

The Craving to Love You

*pairing: vampire idol Sunghoon x human stylist Girl

*trope: office romance/grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: Sunghoon is one of the most famous idols in the world, a vampire born from one of the oldest lines of vampires is one of the most famous models of the new generation and when you discover that you have been taken as "junior stylist" for Hybe, can’t wait to start working but between you and Sunghoon right from the beginning there is something that neither of us can understand. Only with the passing of the months, between jokes, touches and kisses you understand that you are more and more dependent on each other and at MAMA after his iconic performance blossoms your passion

💌: this is a one-shot request from one of you here is the request

*tags: At the beginning Sunghoon is really cynical and maybe even asshole, a lot of tension, you and he are at the beginning literally opposites, he falls in love first, scene where he licks your blood for the first time, needy Sunghoon, needy protagonist. Unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) bites during sex scene, cowgirl-normal sex, masturbation between the breasts, male masturbation, sperm between the breasts and inside the protagonist, presence of descriptions of vampires: canines, cold bodies. + 18 pet names (good girl, sweetheart) (hoon,hoonie)

11.5k (🩸)

You had just finished university. A degree in fashion, too many sleepless nights, fingers pricked by pins and sketches scattered everywhere: on your bedroom walls, in worn-out notebooks, even on the back of receipts. The goal had always been one: a fashion house. Runways, glossy editorials, the scent of new fabric — and yet, when that email arrived — “6-month internship as junior stylist at HYBE.” — your heart beat as if it were your first love. It wasn’t your dream but it was… something. Your dream was to work for a fashion maison, but even working as a stylist wasn’t bad at all, and that “something” had a name:

Enhypen. Seven idols, seven vampires, seven legends, seven immortal pop gods with lethal charm and fans in a frenzy on every continent, everyone had their favorite and all seven gave off different vibes; some gave off vampire energy first, some had a more human and gentle aura, and some, before being vampires, loved calling themselves old-school rockstars… What surprised you the most? That behind the polished gloss of the music videos, the whispers about their supernatural nature were true. All seven were real vampires. With sharp fangs, eyes that turned crimson when aroused, and superhuman strength that made them perfect predators on stage and off —and every girl dreamed of marrying one of them. But you weren’t easily intimidated, you’d been designing forever. Hours and hours sketching for men, women, androgynous creatures, gothic silhouettes, fluid lines, and tailored cuts, and your world was fabric, needles, colored fabrics, all the luxurious textiles you could instantly smell, and your hands were always half broken or pricked between pins, needles, pliers or safety pins. And even if their concept was way darker than your colorful and experimental style, you were enjoying the challenge. Enhypen’s looks were always crafted down to the tiniest detail, with gothic touches, black veils, blood brooches, handmade ties, and shirts unbuttoned just enough to show off sculpted collarbones.

Their outfits especially for concerts or festivals were haute couture and custom-tailored for all seven; human brands fought to appear as their brand ambassadors, and brands like Prada made their way in to tailor and design stunning clothes that reflected their vampiric nature. You loved creating: menswear, womenswear silhouettes, corsets and capes, latex and lace — all with a vision. But working for Enhypen was a whole other world. Their concepts were dark, theatrical, gothic. There was always blood (real or fake?), red veils, inverted crosses, pale skin and eyes that looked like they could devour your soul, and there were always references to their dark world that barely came to light… You found yourself thrown between fittings, last-minute styling sessions, senior stylists with bloodlust in their eyes and rooms full of golden mirrors. It wasn’t a dream… but it felt like a beautiful nightmare.

Then he arrived, the King, the Prince of Darkness, or Ice Prince: Park Sunghoon, or as everyone called him: IT VAMPIRE. 200 years of immortality wrapped in a 22-year-old’s body. Tall, elegant, sharp as a silver blade. Black hair, pale skin, feline-like eyes that made you lower your gaze at a glance, a perfect nose, moles scattered across his face like someone had hand-painted them, and his body… it looked sculpted to embody desire and sin, his aura screamed VAMPIRE. He had porcelain skin, guys tried to look like him but with poor results, and even dentists analyzed his fangs to replicate them but his were the most beautiful. When in lives, on the runway or at concerts he passed his tongue along those fangs, girls — and not just girls — went wild because if you asked around, people wanted to be bitten by him… He was a mystery. The only one with two Blood Vogue covers — both winter and summer issues. He walked for human brands, posed for elite vampire magazines, and during live performances… he’d bite or show himself feeding from blood packs from the Vampire Bank and every time, the internet literally broke.

That day, the head stylist had called you while you were still fixing a seam. -You go, okay? Take these to Sunghoon. He’s in his dressing room. He needs the fitting for the next MV.- She handed you a set black as night: a blazer with a brooch that mimicked dried blood, tailored pants, and elegant shoes. Everything was designed for him and, as always, it had to be perfect. Him. Park Sunghoon. They called him IT VAMPIRE, the king of the group, but also of his lineage, one of the oldest and most aristocratic vampires in Korea, an immortal of over two centuries, who in human form looked only 22 exactly your age, he was perfection and danger and now… he was just a few meters away from you, you knocked softly on the dressing room door, your heart beating a little too fast, especially since you had only dressed two members so far, Jake and Jay, and you knew they were the opposite of Sunghoon.

“Come in.” His voice was low and velvety, you turned the handle, and when you entered… time stopped. He was there, sitting with a half-open shirt, hair still slightly damp from rehearsal, lips red like wine, and long legs moving to the rhythm of some song he was whistling. He was there, seated in front of the mirror with a blood bag between his fingers, a transparent pouch full of freshly drawn blood from the Vampire Blood Bank. He was drinking it like it was fine wine and you froze in the doorway still holding the blazer. The sound of the liquid sliding down his throat was obscene. Sunghoon’s perfect lips closed around the vial, while his pupils turned slightly red as if his predatory instinct was surfacing, you could see how the drink — which could’ve been anyone’s blood, even yours because yes (humans were required to donate their blood) slid slowly down his Adam’s apple and how his fangs, sharp as razors, were still stained with blood as he passed his tongue over his teeth and muttered something unintelligible to you and a shiver ran down your spine but it wasn’t just fear, it was something deeper a primitive attraction. When he noticed your presence, he slowly turned his head toward you. You, on instinct, lowered your gaze.

“New?” he asked in a hoarse, slightly annoyed voice. You nodded quickly and then, maybe to fill the silence or maybe because the tension was killing you, you started talking nonstop. “Uh yes, sorry, I’m the new stylist! Just graduated, I mean, I studied at the Academy in Milan and then did my master’s in Seoul and—” But you stopped. He was looking at you with a cold expression, his eyes narrow, bored, little dark slits, and he slowly raised his hand and made a gesture: shut up. “I don’t care,” he said curtly. “In six months, you’ll be gone. Like all the others.” Your stomach dropped, and you tried to argue back, maybe with a bit too much pride: “I’m not like the others.” He smiled, but it was a dangerous smile. He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth, highlighting his fangs longer and sharper than normal. “You talk too much,” he whispered, in that low, predatory tone. “Especially for a human. With zero experience and stuck in, how do you say in your human sayings? A lion’s den? Well, we’re the lions but vampiric and you’re the perfect prey to devour or to suck dry, so you’d better do your job and not talk too much.” The silence that followed burned inside you but you didn’t want to provoke him too much on your first day working with him, so you removed the protective plastic from his blazer and heard him say: “Put it on me.” With a fluid motion, he pulled off the sweat-soaked sports shirt from his just-finished training and you stood frozen.

In front of you was a body that looked sculpted. His collarbones protruded delicately but firmly, pale skin stretched over muscle, his pecs were high and defined, slightly damp with sweat, and don’t even get started on the arms (oh god) the arms… broad, strong, veined, and those biceps—moving with restrained grace—were thick, and you desperately wanted to touch them, just to feel how they’d react against your warm skin.

And then, the detail that stole your breath: the sculpted V-line descending beneath the loose training pants. A perfect cut, like that drawn by a Renaissance artist, and when he turned, his back was wide and muscular, but also lean, and elegant. Every vertebra, every curve, seemed to tell an ancient story of blood, glory, and sin. You noticed a small scar, and involuntarily, you stared a bit too long.That’s when he growled softly, and a predatory, almost animal sound slipped from his lips,

“Let me give you some advice, stylist,” he hissed, without even turning around. “If you want to survive in here, move it. I don’t have time to waste on a girl who looks like she’s never seen a half-naked man before.” You swallowed and stepped closer, your hands trembling slightly as you helped him put on the blazer. You gently slid the black blazer over his shoulders. The fabric fell over him like it had been stitched onto his immortal body — and in fact, it had.

You’d spent entire days studying his physical structure, his proportions, and the perfect cut to flatter him without overdoing it. You’d seen countless models of his physique and hoped everything would go right, that it would fit as perfectly as it had to every time he did a shoot, every interview, every piece of behind-the-scenes content, and especially for the filming of the MV for their new comeback.

The final touch was the small red pin, a subtle but impactful decoration that looked like crystallized drops of blood. You had come up with it as a joke, but your boss had liked it, and then it had made its way to Sunghoon. You carefully folded the collar, your fingers trembling as you tried to pin it but you didn’t know that at that very moment, Sunghoon was watching you.

Not the blazer. You. He was amused by your height, those ten centimeters of difference that forced you to stretch a little, on your toes, every time you got close to his chest. He liked how focused you were, how you narrowed your eyes to see better, how your lips pressed into a little unconscious pout. He noticed those slightly chapped lips from the cold, barely hidden under a coat of balm, and wondered what they might taste like wrapped around his own and your hands… God, how they trembled but not from cold from him.

And he loved that.

Loved the quiet power he had over humans, especially you. When you finished adjusting the pin, you whispered, almost without thinking: “Perfect. It looks like it was made for you… like it’s part of you.”

Sunghoon walked slowly toward the mirror, staring in silence but of course, he didn’t reflect. He grimaced. “Does it look good on me?” he asked, low and impatient. You, with the same earlier enthusiasm, almost burst out:

“It looks amazing! I mean— I mean— the cut fits your shoulders perfectly, the waistline falls right in place, and the chest line… it highlights your shape so well! I swear it’s like— like it’s sewn onto your skin. A sculpture.”

He slowly rolled his eyes and sighed. “You talk too much. My ears hurt, human.” You blushed slightly but didn’t let him silence you.“Hold still a sec,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “The collar...” You leaned in to adjust it, and your fingers brushed the fabric, but in the motion, the tip of your thumb grazed his skin and for the first time in your life you felt ice—and yet, your body reacted with a warm shiver.

It was in that instant that he turned. His eyes widened slightly, and he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—somewhere between irritation and surprise. He was too close.

You could feel his breath brush against your face; you caught the scent of his skin: freshly drunk blood, woody sandalwood, and an undertone of something you’d never smelled before… mystery, ancient, and hypnotic.

You froze.

“You touched me,” he hissed. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. You stiffened.

“I–I didn’t mean to! I swear it was an accident. I’ll wait outside. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect you, I—” You quickly held out the tailored pants you’d made especially for him. “The measurements should be perfect. I checked everything three times, to be exact but if anything’s off, please… don’t tell the boss I messed up. I don’t want to lose this job. Please.”

He looked at you in silence, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips and you, heart pounding in your chest, rushed out of the room, trying to calm your breath, asking yourself what the hell had just happened in that room. 

Three months had passed since you'd become one of Enhypen’s stylists. Three intense, exhausting months— but full of stimulation. You’d contributed to the creation of multiple outfits and sketches for their comeback concept, traveled to Fashion Weeks in Milan and New York, watched seamstresses handle the finest fabrics, lace, and embroidered silks to craft their stage costumes for festivals and concerts. You’d attended fan events, brand promos designed by different members… and along the way, you’d built a solid bond with almost all of them.

Jake and Jay had practically become your friends: talkative, fun, easygoing. You were the same age, and they made you feel at ease. They were the ones who made you forget, even just for a moment, that you were “different” because of the blood still running through your veins.

With Sunoo, Heeseung, and Ni-ki, it took more time—they were quieter, more observant but once they warmed up to you, they were gems—especially Jungwon. At first, as the youngest leader in the entire K-pop industry, he had seemed serious, a bit judgmental… but over time, something sweet and genuine grew between you two.

The only problem… was Park Sunghoon.

He… he seemed to despise you. He looked at you like you were a mistake in his day. He didn’t want you dressing him, he preferred the vampire stylists. Whenever he saw you laughing with Jake or Jay, he rolled his eyes in that cold, snobbish way of his. He couldn’t understand what they found interesting about you, what made you so special in their eyes. It bothered him. The way the others had carved a space for themselves in your heart, in your daily routine.

Something about you got under his skin. Maybe it was your personality—so different from his? Maybe it was the scent of your blood, growing sharper day by day? or maybe… it was the sound of your laughter not when it was directed at him, but at others.

(A simple human girl. Clumsy. Too chatty. Always with ink-stained fingers or thread tangled between them.)

And yet…sometimes… you felt his gaze on you.

When you were sketching. When you were sewing. When you threaded a needle with the speed and precision of someone who poured heart into her work. He’d throw quick glances—ones he thought you wouldn’t notice. As if he were trying to find a flaw in you. As if he were fighting something inside himself.

That afternoon, the dressing room was silentjust you and him. You were arranging some pins on a fabric mannequin, while he sat on a stool with his earbuds in, scrolling through TikTok and softly humming a melody that sounded new. Now and then, you caught him glancing up. He didn’t speak or disturb you, but… he was there. His presence felt so intense it was like a weight in the air, noticeable even from across the room. You were fixing one of the pins when it slipped from your hand, and you pricked your finger. By now, it wasn’t new, your fingertips or the skin around your nails always had some small traces of blood. “Fuck…” you murmured, immediately bringing your finger to your mouth. A tiny drop of blood slid off your skin and fell to the floor with an almost imperceptible sound—and that’s when you felt it. The silence, the kind that speaks louder than a thousand voices. You turned slowly, knowing you’d been warned to leave if you even lost a little blood. The members were old enough not to be fazed by seeing or smelling blood, and they could hold back—but they were still vampires! Sunghoon was motionless.

His gaze fixed on the floor, lips parted slightly, nostrils flaring as if… he was sniffing, trying to identify the source of that sweet taste of blood. His eyes changed darker, glossy. Predatory. “Oh, it’s me,” you said quickly, hiding your hand behind your back. “I just pricked myself, nothing serious. You know, I’m clumsy and-” He stood up slowly, earbuds dropping onto his chest as he took a step toward you. “Stop. Don’t run away, Y/n.” His voice was a rough whisper, low, more like a command but with a pleading tone because he wanted to taste your blood. You froze, your heart pounding in your ears as he came within a breath of you. He gently took your wrist and brought your finger to his lips without ever breaking eye contact and then… he kissed it.

No, he sucked it like it was a forbidden fruit, his reason for living as if he’d discovered something forbidden that shouldn’t be uncovered because you were both in trouble both you and him… Sunghoon had tasted many kinds of blood. Ancient blood, noble blood, rare blood even that of aristocratic vampires during the coronation ceremonies, since he was part of that world. But yours? As the scent rose in the air, something inside him shattered. His nostrils flared again, and he leaned in slowly. He took your hand with unnatural gentleness like it was fragile glass, his gaze fixed on the wounded finger. “Your blood…” he murmured, almost unaware he was speaking. “It’s like iron honey. Sweet and damned so good, a kind of blood I’ve never tasted in my life.” “What…?” you whispered, bewildered. Then he did something he hadn’t done in years, something he only did when he was young, inexperienced, and instinctively hungry not by choice. He brought his lips to your finger and kissed that tiny wound—a light, warm, moist kiss—and then he started licking and sucking that piece of skin that was bleeding your blood, his new drug. You flinched, surprised and shaken, watching his eyes turn redder as he stared at you intensely. “Sunghoon… hey… are you okay? It’s a bit shocking… but it doesn’t hurt, I’m used to it, you know, I use needles and pins every day,” you said to reason with him, trying to bring him out of his trance. “Everything’s fine, right?”

But he didn’t answer. He was in a trance, completely lost, gently sucking that little patch of skin, breathing deeply, eyes half-closed, thinking: The iron content is perfect… it’s liquid and warm… God, it’s salty just right. How can it taste so good? How can it be… her? It couldn’t belong to some idol or some aristocratic girl from my lineage. His lips grew warmer, almost feverish, and his canines extended beneath his gums and you noticed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen the members’ canines come out, but never so close—especially when they were literally inside your finger! With a light but tense laugh, you stopped him: “Sunghoon… please. You can taste, suck… but don’t bite me, okay?” At those words, he froze, slowly lifting his gaze. His eyes looked different—haken, almost scared of himself. He saw the fear in your eyes because you weren’t used to seeing him in his more vampiric form than his “human” one. For a few seconds, he gently licked the wound, as if to heal and soothe it, to show you he would never hurt you. But you instinctively pulled your finger away—and he let you go. He immediately missed the taste of your skin and blood and cursed himself for licking and tasting it because now… how was he going to manage?

“Sorry.” His voice was hoarse, broken. “I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t hold back. Your blood is… delicious.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? That you have my blood? That you’ve gone crazy or… wait, didn’t you feed today? Sunghoon, you know you shouldn’t skip drinking from the blood bags at the bank.”

He didn’t answer and took your finger again. This time more slowly, with a sad and hungry look, he brushed his lips over the wound as if to imprint the last memory and left a kiss—soft, moist, and full of questions he didn’t even know how to answer. Then he suddenly stood up.

“What the hell am I doing…?” he muttered through clenched teeth, turning away. “I can’t… not with her…” and he left, leaving you there with your heart pounding wildly and your finger still burning where he had kissed it.

The next morning, when you arrived at your workstation where all your sketches and ideas were spread out on the desk, you noticed something strange on the table where you usually placed your accessories and laptop. Two small colorful band-aids: one pale blue with a barely visible design, and the other lilac with little colorful bears spitting rainbows. You looked around, but the room was empty. There was no note, no name just those band-aids left there quietly as if they were a clue you were supposed to figure out all by yourself. Who…? No, it couldn’t be him. But only he knew you had hurt your finger, and those little band-aids were meant for small cuts, so you took the lilac one and, with a skeptical smile, removed the one you had on your finger from the night before and replaced it. The other one, you put in your pocket. You didn’t know why, but you did.

That afternoon, you were desperately searching for a specific accessory for Ni-Ki’s shoot for BLOOD Japan, but you had been told it was accidentally left in one of the larger rehearsal rooms. When you quietly entered, trying not to disturb anything, Sunghoon was sitting on one of the benches, his head bowed, fingers fiddling with something. You greeted him with a nod, trying not to show too much enthusiasm so he wouldn’t realize you were still thinking about what had happened between you two just hours before.

“Are you hiding from someone?” you asked with a half-smile.

He mumbled something unintelligible, but you thought you heard “from you.” You figured you must have misunderstood.

“Oh. Well, anyway… thanks for the band-aids,” you said softly, your tone gentler. He slowly looked up, wearing a fake innocent expression. “Band-aids? What are you talking about?” he asked, crossing his arms. So, you showed him your finger, where the lilac band-aid with rainbow-spitting little bears now decorated the cut like an accessory.“This. Are you sure you don’t know anything about it?” you smiled and met his eyes, which were curious about your presence. And then, something shifted inside him. Not a movement, but a pang, maybe a flicker of emotions he hadn’t felt in years seeing someone give him attention not because he was Sunghoon, the idol of the moment, the vampire everyone wanted to catch the eye of, but just a “normal” guy. He felt something alive—something that scared him more than blood ever could.

He opened his mouth to reply, but you stepped closer than he was comfortable with and looked at him intently. “Well…” you said in a lower voice, pulling the second band-aid from your pocket, the pale blue one with tiny drawn snowflakes. “…I have one left over. Consider it a favor returned,” you smiled at him. “Are you crazy?” he said immediately, stiffening. “I’m not even hurt.”

“Doesn’t matter. That makes us even.” You bent down slightly, your heart pounding, and gently lifted the black hoodie he was wearing, revealing a small patch of skin beneath his shirt—right where no one could see. You hoped he wouldn’t give you the same cold look he did the first time you accidentally touched him. His abdomen was cold and smooth, pale like marble, and you slowly pressed the band-aid onto his skin, brushing it lightly. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even breathe—and his pupils dilated, his eyes slowly dropping deep down toward your mouth. "You seriously have issues,” he whispered but didn’t sound annoyed.“A lot of people say that,” you said with an ironic smile. “But guess what… I’m still here, making myself liked by even the most cynical or cold people!”

You looked at him carefully, as if you wanted to read what was inside him. “Sunghoon…” you whispered his name, barely above a breath. He swallowed softly and placed his cold, large hands on your face as if you were a fragile crystal. With extreme slowness, he drew you closer to him, inch by inch.

“I shouldn’t want it this much…” he murmured, voice broken. “I shouldn’t want to know what it’s like to kiss you.” You smiled ironic, tender, a little cheeky. “Then stop thinking about it… or do it, if that’s what you want.” You chuckled, using that tone that always drove him crazy. His fingers began tracing slow circles on your cheeks, lightly brushing your skin with a deadly delicacy. Your face warmed immediately, blushing under his gentle touch. You felt how his large fingers were so cold, a complete contrast with your skin and with your heart pounding in your ears. “You know you’re beautiful when you blush,” he whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to say something too much, something he didn’t even understand where it came from. “You seem like something I could break... but also something I could pray for.”  And I haven’t prayed in centuries, he thought.

Then he leaned in slowly, breathing in the scent you carried—something floral, sweet, and fruity, like spring after the rain, like the smell of a home caught in the bloom between spring and early summer. You smelled of rose and jasmine… and something unique. It wasn’t blood, it wasn’t desire—it was… human longing. “Fuck…” he hissed, unable to hold back any longer, “…I want to kiss you so badly.” And he kissed you. His lips touched yours like snow on warm skin a barely there kiss, cold at first contact, full of hesitation and restrained hunger. You rose slightly onto your toes, trying to feel him better. He chuckled softly against your mouth, surprised by how much you wanted him to, and then the kiss deepened. You were the first to intensify it, parting your lips and leaning into him. A soft moan escaped your mouth as you caught his faintly musky scent, and your vanilla lip balm mingled with his flavor. You tasted something forbidden, iron-like but warm as velvet. Your tongue slid gently over his lips, and he stiffened for a moment, not expecting you to be so bold in wanting more. Then he opened his mouth, accepting you with the desperate need of someone who hasn’t touched something alive in too long.

How is it possible that something so simple… can hurt this much? How can his tongue taste of life? Of sunshine? Of warmth? Your mouths searched for each other like they had known each other for years, moving slowly, then more urgent, then slow again. You moaned softly when his hands moved behind your neck, holding you steady, almost trembling. When he pulled back just slightly, his eyes were wide and glossy, lips swollen and faintly flushed. You saw his canines hold back from slicing your lower lip, but Sunghoon didn’t want you to run from him in fact, he wanted to keep kissing you, keep discovering you more and more. When he broke away, he was breathing shallowly, as if he rarely did this, his pupils dilated, eyes fixed on your lips. “You’re driving me crazy…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re… so alive.” And before you could answer, he kissed you again. With hunger, with more urgency, he kissed you for what felt like minutes, as if time didn’t exist, as if your taste was the only thing keeping him anchored to this world.

After that kiss, things started to change between the two of you, not all at once. Not with loud laughter, grand declarations, or theatrical displays of love like those couples who can’t keep their hands or lips off each other but in small ways. Silent details.

You went home at night with your lips still tingling from the taste of him, and the next day you’d find him waiting for you in the hallway, leaning against the wall, pretending not to care. Sometimes, he came over to your place, using the excuse of wanting to see your sketches or your latest designs. Other times, it was you sneaking into the dorm.

Jake and Heeseung always laughed whenever you showed up, while Jay greeted you with that knowing little smirk.

-Hey Hoon, your stylist’s here.-

'Wait, wasn’t she our stylist?'

<No, no… she was. Now she’s his eyes, his hands, his everything.>

Sunghoon would pretend to ignore them, but it only took one look from you to make his ears go red—even though there was hardly any blood left flowing in him and yet, some days… he was different, more possessive. You saw it when he watched you talking to others when you joked around with Jay, or when Ni-Ki asked questions about your designs and you smiled too much.

“Don’t you have just one person to dress today?” he’d ask through gritted teeth.

“Why do you look so ready to show off your ideas to everyone?”

You laughed because he was becoming more protective of you.

And then you’d notice that when he came closer to try on the clothes, he always found a way to brush against you. An arm, a hand on your back, his cold fingers grazing yours—it was his way of asking for your attention and you gave it to him.

You could see the change in him. You saw him trying to understand this new feeling—he, who had always been distant, closed off. An idol vampire, cold and untouchable to everyone but then… he took you to the ice rink. His first real date with you was in the only place he felt safe in the world: the skating rink.

You laughed as he twirled and glided across the ice, while you could barely take two steps without slipping even with both hands gripping the railing. You grumbled, not understanding how he could be good at everything, while you weren’t, but he smiled a real one, rare and precious as he watched you pout, trying to stay balanced.

He slid over to you, gently took you by the waist, leaned down a bit, and said, “You’re such a mess.” Then tucked a strand of your hair back under your hat. “But a cute mess.”

You made him endless playlists for the long hours of travel between airports, planes, and vans and he listened to them on the road. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he’d send you a whispered voice message at 3 a.m.: “This track… the one you picked… it makes me think of when you sleep on my chest.”

When he stayed at the dorm playing video games, you’d sit on his lap, sketching outfits, and doodling portraits of him. Now and then, he’d sneak a glance and mumble shyly: “Stop drawing me like that… you’re making me blush.” But then he'd take the drawings and hide them in the safest drawer he had.

He’d watch you cook and do small, simple human things that fascinated him. And he’d tease you, saying he’d take blood over your human cooking any day but there was always a smile behind his words. He had never bitten you—never sunk his fangs into your skin even though he wanted to more than anything and every time he nibbled at or kissed your neck, he’d whisper: “I don’t want to ruin you. You’re the most beautiful, living thing I’ve held since I became… this.”

But when you dressed him, fixed his collar, kissed his jaw or temple before he went on stage you could feel him tremble and when he danced, he moved like every gesture was meant for you.

The air backstage at the MAMA 2024 was thick with anxiety, excitement, and adrenaline. Stylists and makeup artists moved like fast shadows—someone fixing buttons, others running with safety pins, and people shouting to find missing outfits or stage makeup.

But you were… calm because standing in front of you was him: Sunghoon.

Wearing his elegant dark vampire outfit, the collar popped high, a fake red rose tucked right over his chest, exactly where a human heart would still be beating. His face was perfect tense jaw, deep eyes, that cool composure only you had learned to read by now: he was nervous not about the performance. About you.

While you adjusted the knot of his black tie, you felt his gaze on you, not on your lips, or your chest but on your hands. Those warm, light, precise fingers brushed against his chest, grazing the rose, and smoothing the folds of his jacket. His eyes sparkled, but he said nothing, breathing in that sweet scent of yours that had been calming him down for months now.

“Do I look okay?” he asked in a low, husky voice. You looked up at him and teased, “You look better in the coffin.” You smirked wickedly. “But let’s see if you come out of it alive.”

He let out a tiny smirk and looked away for a second your dark humor still caught him off guard sometimes. His tongue slowly passed over one fang, like he was trying to hold something back. You stood on your tiptoes, his face now dangerously close, but at this point, neither of you cared and with a gentle touch, you messed up the lock of black hair falling over his forehead. Then… you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Break a leg, prince of darkness...” you murmured, voice low and seductive. “If the performance’s good… I’ve got a nice little reward waiting for you.” The warmth of your breath against his skin was like a lit fuse. He froze.

His chest rose slowly one, two seconds and then he looked at you. That half-smile, the one that made your knees weak the very first day you saw him in person the dangerous smile, hiding darker desires than the velvet he wore. He slowly took your wrist, and with hunger in his touch, brought your arm closer and brushed his lips right above your vein a kiss so faint, it barely existed.

“Be ready, sweetheart…” he murmured in that deep voice. “When I’m done performing… you’ll be even more in love with me.” He stole a quick kiss from your lips, but in doing so, tried to keep you close. His hands slid to your waist, fingers trembling with the want of more but you stopped him, placing a single finger on his chest. “No, Hoon… you’ll mess up your makeup,” you said with a mischievous smile. “And I’ve got the perfect view of you from the front row. Don’t distract me.” You turned and walked away, leaving him with an expression somewhere between frustrated and hungry. He bit his lip, looked down at the rose pinned to his chest, and thought: “I can’t wait to show her what I’ve got in store tonight…”

The room was vibrating darkness—screens, flashing lights, and thousands of eyes all fixed on a single stage but you… you only saw him. Sunghoon lay in that glass coffin like a fallen angel, arms crossed over his chest, a red rose pinned exactly where his heart beat or once had. The music began to pulse slow, hypnotic like a heartbeat held back for too long. You heard sounds like a gothic church, like terror blooming…then he rose.

Smooth, theatrical movements. Lids heavy, eyes veiled, lips parted. He was the perfect vampire but every gesture he made on that stage seemed meant to provoke not just the crowd, but someone in particular. You. Every rotation of his hips, every touch to his chest, every silent prowl across the floor was flawless. The audience fell silent when he grabbed the rose and squeezed fake blood oozing out.

You forgot how to breathe. “Fuck…” Your thighs instinctively pressed together the moment you saw him bring the trembling flower to his face, staining his perfectly ironed shirt with crimson, and then…

He danced. Your fingers curled into your jeans, damp with arousal, warmth flooding your core. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think. He was stunning, he was feral, he was yours.

When he dragged his blood-slicked fingers across his cheek and licked them your stomach flipped and when he lifted his gaze, searching the crowd…you knew. He was looking for you. You felt it—in your gut, in your chest, between your legs.

“This isn’t fair… He shouldn’t do this to me.” And yet… God, you wanted him. The whole performance was a carnal confession, his body speaking, dancing like a predator—elegant and knowing and you, frozen in place, trembling, soaked, could think only of one thing:

Him. On top of you. When the music stopped, the roar of the crowd was deafening, but you heard nothing only your heartbeat, and the heat between your thighs.

Backstage, you saw him—makeup still flawless, fake blood dripping down his neck, soaking through the half-unbuttoned black shirt. His hair was wet with sweat. A damned gothic dream, he locked onto you instantly and walked straight toward you, ignoring everyone else.

Compliments swirled around him like mist, but he didn’t hear them. His eyes were only for you. He stopped just inches away.

“So… what did you think of my performance, sweetheart?” he asked with that dangerously sexy vampire smile that made your bones melt. Still breathless, still dazed, you whispered: “It was… illegal. It was erotic. It was yours. And I… I haven’t breathed in six minutes.” He chuckled softly, took your hand smudged with fake blood and brought it to his lips, brushing them over your skin.

“Everyone. Out.” he said, low and sharp. “I only want her.” The doors shut with a heavy thud and then…he looked at you hungry. 

He pushed you gently but firmly against the wall of the room where the singers were supposed to be relaxing, and the fake blood still slowly dripped from his collarbone as he looked at you.

"You're mine, and you know it." He kissed you with force, with hunger, with pent-up desire. His lips were warm now, the fake blood had a sweet taste on his tongue like food coloring, but with a strawberry tone yet he wanted you to feel what it was like to taste real blood, not the fake kind. He pressed his hips into you, one leg sliding between yours, while his hands roamed your face, your name, your waist.

“Hoon…” you moaned into the kiss, your fingers digging into the black tie you had knotted for him hours ago. Slowly, you pulled it off him, the gesture speaking more of your desire than a thousand words. “Christ…” he murmured against your lips, voice hoarse. “You drive me crazy… you’re so warm, so alive, so… human. And I want you, fuck…” He kissed you again, this time slower, deeper his kiss was a wet and sweet clash, his body trembling slightly as his hands slipped beneath your blouse. When you finally pulled apart, your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed, and he was licking his lower lip slowly, still hungry. “You said there was a reward…” he whispered, brushing your side. “…I haven’t finished claiming it yet, baby.” Sunghoon began kissing you again, slowly, with a restrained but sharp hunger.

His cold lips found your neck, sucking and savoring every inch with cruel patience. You shuddered when you felt his fangs teasing you, and a moan escaped before you could hold it back. When his fangs grazed your skin dangerously close to breaking it, your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair and gave a small tug that made him moan too, low and guttural, almost like a growl.

“Your blood…” he whispered in your ear, voice rasping. “It’s rushing too fast, and your heart… it only beats for me, right?”

“You say too many damn vampire things… and I… I can’t resist you." You said it just before softly gasping his name. In an instant, he picked you up strong, effortlessly, like he was made to hold you and settled on the makeup room couch, the same place where you’d fixed the red rose for the coffin scene just minutes before. Now you were straddling him, knees tight around his hips, and you felt the tension building in his body like static between you. His hands, cold and confident slid under your sweatshirt. One trailed slowly down your side, the other moved higher until it unhooked your bra with one precise click.

The sound made you hold your breath. “What if someone hears us?” you asked, your voice cracking more from desire than fear. He looked up at you still wearing that vampire makeup, but with eyes that were alive, glistening, hungry. “These walls are soundproof. And I’m not letting you leave here… until I’ve had you.” His voice was low, deliberate. He knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted from you.

“Arms up.” You raised them slowly, and he pulled off your sweatshirt like a curtain sliding away. The air was cool on your bare skin, and a shiver ran through you. Your chest was exposed, vulnerable… but before embarrassment could creep in, his arms wrapped around you. He held you like a cloak like he wanted to protect you… or devour you. His gaze darkened, and he looked at you like you were forbidden fruit your bare chest a secret revealed just for him and maybe… it was. His hands were big, and warm, but also cold and hungry, in contrast with your smaller frame.

You started moving, slowly, rocking against him, and his erection, still beneath the elegant stage pants, pressed harder and harder; you could feel it growing beneath you bigger, more sensitive, throbbing and every small movement made it tremble. “That won’t do,” he murmured through clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart.” He scolded you with his voice, but his hands spoke another language: they gripped, caressed, demanded, and you could feel the contrast between his natural coldness and the heat he now radiated only for you. “Do you like seeing me like this?” you asked, your lips stained with his taste. “Fuck, baby, I adore you.” He said it in a tone so rough and sweet at the same time that your breath broke with movements still clumsy but desperate. You tried to take off his jacket and unbutton his shirt, but your fingers trembled, and it was he who freed himself with a sharp and decisive gesture. When you saw his chest, the fake blood makeup dripping between the sculpted muscles, you shivered; he looked like a fallen god, a delirious vampire, a beautiful nightmare all yours. “Christ…” you whispered without realizing it. “You’re… unreal.” He looked at you with that half-smile, the one that hurts and feeds you at the same time. “You’re only saying that now? Wait until you see me under you,” he said, chuckling.

His lips settled on your neck with a feverish, demonic intensity; every kiss was a held bite, every caress a promise that you were his, only his to possess. He slowly descended, brushing your skin with his slightly parted mouth, warm and uneven breath against you. When he reached your breasts, you moaned softly, clutching his hair between your fingers. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, as one hand closed over one of your breasts, sweet and soft to the touch of his long fingers; he squeezed it, lifted it, adored it. Then he bent down, and his breath grew deeper, his lips closing around your hardened nipple, beginning to suck it, lick it, carefully bite it. His hands held you tight, almost trembling with desire as he felt you shatter against him. “Sunghoon… oh God…” you gasped while he tormented the other breast with expert fingers and almost animalistic greed, squeezing it gently but sometimes roughly. “I’m obsessed with you, sweetheart. Every time I see you in those lace skirts, that damn smile I want just for myself… you drive me crazy.” You tugged his hair with a small moan when you felt his fangs brush, and lightly pinch your skin. You felt how he teased your hardened bud with his canines, and the pain mixed with pleasure you were completely his. You rocked slowly on him, your body perfectly balanced in his hands. His gaze, when you met it, was full of fire. “Do you know what I want right now?” he murmured, his lips wet and reddened. “I want to fuck your breasts. Until I come on you, on your heart, all over your belly.” Your cheeks flamed, and you stammered between sighs: “I-I want to feel you… there… everywhere. I can’t hold back anymore.” Without thinking, your hands moved eagerly; you unbuckled his belt with trembling fingers and whispered with a smirk, “Lift your hips for me, Hoon.”

He obeyed, eyes fixed on yours; you slid off his tailored pants, the smooth fabric slipping easily, and when his black boxers appeared, his erection was visible under the thin fabric. You stared at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Well, well. What’s this, Sunghoon? Did you dress up elegantly just for me, or did you just want to drive me crazy?” “Christ, don’t make me lose my head even more,” he growled, with a hungry vampire grin. You told him to keep teasing your nipples while you pulled down his boxers, and he shook his head rebelliously, but you stared at him with an authoritative tone, gently scolding: “Do it. Make me feel that you want me still. With your mouth.” He sighed with a smile, both submissive and wild at the same time, and bent down again, sucking with more passion, his canines lightly scratching the sensitive skin while your breath became more and more broken. When the boxers slipped off completely, you almost lost your breath. “Oh my God, Sunghoon…” you gasped, watching him. His cock was long, perfectly sculpted, the skin smooth and slightly shiny. The tip was reddened, pearly, throbbing, a thin layer of pre-cum gleamed in the dim light of the room and pulsed lightly against his tense abs, and for the first time… you saw him blush, though maybe it was just your hallucination. His eyes searched yours with a vulnerable flash. “Don’t look at me like that…” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “I look at you like that because you’re beautiful. You’re mine, and I can’t wait to feel all of you inside me.” You began moving your hand slowly along his length, feeling the throbbing heat of his cock beneath your fingers. Sunghoon let out a deep, barely audible moan while his lips found refuge on your neck, gently nibbling as if wanting to brand every inch of your skin; he was trying to hold back, but the little spasms of his hips betrayed him. His hands never stopped teasing your breasts caressing, squeezing, lightly pulling your nipples between his fingers.

“C-Christ… it’s too much… being touched by you… it’s both a blessing and a torture,” he stammered, his voice broken by pleasure. Your touch grew more deliberate, slower, and harsher. You were teasing him on purpose, and he knew it. “Look at how you react, my love… you’re trembling in my hands.” “Don’t play too much, sweetheart,” he warned you in a hoarse whisper. “If you keep this up, I might lose all control and bite you without mercy.” You giggled, the sound sweet and teasing, but the game didn’t last long: his fangs sank lightly into your neck, leaving you breathless. “I can’t take it anymore…” he whispered, his voice trembling. He gently pushed you toward the couch, and you, confused, looked at him with eyes still glossy from desire. But he was already standing in front of you, his hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it lightly to avoid coming too soon, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “I want to fuck your breasts. I want them in my hands, between my thighs, in my fantasies.” You were momentarily speechless, then stammered something—maybe a yes, maybe just a breath. He tilted his head with a sharp smile. “Naughty girl… you wanted to see me lost, weak for you? You got me, but now I want you to look me in the eyes while I take what’s mine, while I fuck these beautiful breasts that will be stained with my cum.” He ordered in a low, warm tone: “Squeeze them for me. Show me how you want them only for me.” You bit your lip, your hands trembling as you cupped your breasts; you’d never done this before in your life, but with Sunghoon, there was always something new—even though he seemed cold, cynical, and shy, the urge to please him overwhelmed you. “Never done this before…” you murmured, embarrassed. Sunghoon bit his lower lip, his gaze glued to you. “And you’re perfect, so sweet, so sexy when you learn just for me.” He began to slowly stroke himself, then lowered himself, sliding his cock between your squeezed breasts. The contact was burning, wet, and intimate; every thrust was slow, and sensual, and you felt it pulse against your skin, his breath growing heavier and heavier. “Fuck… you’re a dream.”

His cock slid with slow strokes between your tight breasts, wet with your shared heat; you felt every vein, every shiver, every drop of desire dripping from the tip, pearling on your pale skin. You locked your legs around his hips, pulling him to you with pure, visceral instinct. “You’re so hot… you’re driving me crazy, my love…” he whispered as he pushed harder, making his way between your folds, letting you feel the power of his excitement. A trembling moan escaped your lips. The words came out in a stammered whisper, muffled by pleasure: “S-Sunghoon… it’s too much… you’re driving me insane… I feel you everywhere…” He looked at you with those intense eyes, full of desire and rough tenderness, and kissed you gently as if at that moment he also wanted your soul.

“So good… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched. So perfect, so… mine.” He continued to pump slowly, his thrusts between your breasts deeper, more desperate, while whispering in your ear: “Lick it for me… just a little. Drive me crazy.” You shook your head gently, embarrassed. “I-I’ve never done that…” but he softly took your chin, tilting your head toward him. “Try, my love. I’ll guide you, and if you don’t like it… we’ll stop.” When he gently pushed himself toward your lips, the tip just barely brushed your mouth. The warmth, the salty and intense taste of his excitement struck you with hesitation, but also curiosity. Your tongue came out and you licked him slowly, with a soft, gentle movement. As you licked the tip sliding against your breasts, you moaned at the warmth and taste of his arousal on your palate, and Sunghoon groaned through clenched teeth. You could see how his canines had lengthened and how he moaned with closed eyes and his head thrown back—he looked like a god. “Christ… this is paradise. You’re too much, I don’t even deserve you, don’t deserve a good girl like you when I’m just a cynical bastard from the moment I saw you.” His eyes, now red and glossy, trembled. “I’m about to come… look what you do to me… you’re my ruin, my sweetest damnation.” You moaned softly, squeezing yourself a little tighter, until with a deep thrust and a guttural growl, his pleasure exploded: thick, hot strands flooded your chest, sliding between your breasts, down your neck, to your belly—each drop like a mark of love branded on your skin. His cock was still throbbing, and he cursed quietly, his eyes full of adoration and hunger. “Fucking stunning… you’re made to be mine. Look at you… you look like a work of art, all dirty with me.” When you released your hands and your breasts relaxed, he slowly leaned down and kissed you over your heart, then, shamelessly, ran his tongue softly over your chest, savoring the remnants of his excitement with a satisfied growl. Since he met you, Sunghoon had become so desperate for your body that he always wanted to treat you like a slut but at the same time like a queen—no, his queen.

Sunghoon made you sit for a moment on the edge of the sofa and with slow, careful movements, took a warm cloth and gently wiped your belly and breasts, running his hand over your sensitive skin, kissing the drops of semen that still marked you. His eyes were fixed on you, and it seemed he adored every little detail of you. You were the most beautiful girl, his muse, his — and sooner or later, he would make you one of his kind. But maybe that was a conversation for more “normal” times, not with his cock trembling to be inside you. He sat casually on the sofa, legs spread, torso leaning slightly back, his cock still hard and shiny against his abs, looking like a king waiting for his queen — and you knew you were that queen. With a slow gesture, he beckoned you closer. “Come here, my love.” You slowly took off your jeans, fully aware you were driving him crazy. When he saw your red lace panties, his eyes lit up with a mix of desire and amusement. “Let me guess…” he said with a smirk. “Matching the red bra from before? Was that what you wanted to show me?” You rolled your eyes with a half-provocative smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you lose control.” He laughed softly, deeply, and gently grabbed your waist, pulling you close, kissing your side, and then slowly moving down along the elastic of your panties. “Mission accomplished, sweetheart.” He lowered them slowly, with soft but firm gestures, and when he slid them off, leaving you completely naked before him, he traced a finger along your already swollen, wet clit. A small moan escaped your lips and you instinctively opened your legs, your body unfolding to him like a natural offering. “Look how it throbs…” he whispered into your earlobe. “Your pussy is begging to be fucked. So wet… all my fault, right?” You looked at him with shiny eyes, burning with desire. “Completely. Damn completely your fault.” Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling with self-control. “I can’t wait to sink inside you… slowly, until I lose control and make you understand you’ll be mine for eternity.” He grabbed your hips and firmly guided you astride him. The contact with his skin ignited you, you settled your legs wide around his hips, your pussy just centimeters from his member, both of you trembling with the tension building like a spring. He softly sucked your neck, leaving another mark, while the tip of his shaft slid with controlled movements between your folds, every touch electric because you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, warm muscles but also tense and hard beneath your fingers, and he began to rock slowly back and forth, rubbing his cock against your wet lips, without entering. “I want you so much…” you whispered, breath short. “Inside. Now.” Sunghoon looked at you from beneath his lashes, with that sinful smile. “Patience, sweetheart, let’s enjoy it all. I want to feel every second of your desire grow… until you scream at me never to stop.”

Sunghoon brushed his lips against your neck, and you felt his fangs grazing your skin, a shiver running down your spine—not just from the touch, but from the knowledge that he could bite you. You trusted him completely, but there was still that small voice inside telling you not to give yourself to him because sooner or later he would claim you—and maybe that was exactly what you wanted. “I wanted to savor you a little longer… prepare you slowly,” he whispered, his voice rough like scratched velvet. “But you’re… irresistible.” “I’m ready,” you answered without hesitation, your fingers tangled in his dark hair. “For you, always.” You looked straight into his eyes, those eyes… now darker, almost ruby, veiled with restrained desire and vampiric vibes, inhuman, stunningly beautiful. Then, slowly, you lowered yourself down. His tip slid inside you with a slowness that felt both punishment and reward at once; you both moaned at the sensation of his tip entering you, a sound that was not just pleasure but shared hunger. “Ah… f-fuck…” Sunghoon hissed, his head thrown back, lips slightly stained with the fake blood of the rose. “So tight… so warm… so alive…” “You’re… huge…” you moaned, clawing at his shoulders, your nails leaving marks he welcomed as offerings. “And… you’re still hard… even though you already came… I feel you… so full…” He grabbed you tightly, his fingers like claws around your waist. “Sweetheart…” he growled. “I’m only halfway there.” You stopped, trembling, your eyes wide. “H-Halfway?!” He looked at you, his face tense, forehead shiny with sweat and desire, mouth slightly open, fangs barely visible. “Do you want to stop?” His voice was a strangled roar, ancient and full of desire held back for centuries. You shook your head, breath broken. “No… I want everything, I want you all inside me, Hoonie.” You moved again, slowly, riding him with almost cruel grace, every movement driving him crazy, every moan from you honey and poison. His hands caressed you everywhere, his lips kissed you fiercely and tenderly, his tongue tracing invisible lines on your neck, shoulders, and between your breasts. “If you keep going like this… I’ll come right away…” he growled, trying to hold back.

“You’re going too slow, sweetheart…” Sunghoon’s voice was a velvety, low, scratched growl. “Don’t make me lose my patience like you’ve loved doing since the first day we met.” That tone turned you on even more, so, gripping his shoulders, you started rocking with more determination, taking him deeper, faster; every thrust you felt perfectly: his member sliding between your warm, wet folds as if your body had been made just to hold him. His cock was perfect for your poor pussy, wrapping tighter and tighter. Small moans escaped your lips, and the pleasure was overwhelming. It made you tremble and pant as you desperately rode his cock. Sunghoon stared at you with red, hungry eyes, captivated by the sight of your body taking him all in, so bold, so wild it drove him insane. With one cold hand, he grabbed your lower back, pushing you down harder, and guiding you into an even more violent rhythm. The other hand climbed to your breast, and in an instant, his warm mouth closed around your nipple, sucking it avidly, moaning against your skin—a guttural, sensual sound that made you throw your head back. You pulled his hair, tearing a growl from him as you moaned against his neck: “It’s… too much…” But he held you tighter, dominating you with his body and voice. “Don’t you know who’s in charge yet, my love?” Then, mercilessly, he pushed deeper, plunging into you forcefully. You screamed, your fingers clawing his back, the pleasure making you whimper. “Ah-ah… Sunghoon… your fangs… your c-cock… inside me… I’m… going crazy…”

You felt them—those sharp teeth teasing your neck, not enough to break the skin, not yet, but enough to make you shiver, to excite you even more because he had never bitten you in all those months of knowing each other, and deep down you were already longing for it… His shaft pumped inside you with a fierce, determined rhythm, each thrust deeper, more visceral. “I’m… I’m tired…” you whispered, trembling all over. He laughed, low and cruel. “Tired? Really?” He lifted you easily, making you moan in protest but you didn’t stop him. “No… wait…” But he was already in motion. He laid you down on the couch, his strong hands placing you like a doll but with the hunger of a starving beast. He took one of your legs and lifted it, bending it against his neck. He looked down at you, dark eyes, and fangs just visible between his lips. “Let’s see how tired you’ll be now…” he hissed. “With me in charge.” Then, without hurry but with absolute determination, he slid his full length inside you, a slow, burning thrust that tore a long, desperate moan from your lips. The new position opened you in a different way, deeper, rougher, driving you crazy. Your legs trembled slightly as his body pressed against yours. “Ah… Sunghoon…” you stammered, your voice hoarse. “I like it… so much…” He smiled with elegant cruelty, his dark gaze fixed on your face. “You like it, huh? Of course, you do. Look at you… so wet, so hungry for my cock as if you were born for this—to be owned and fucked by me every night.” He started moving, pushing deeper and faster, firm, long thrusts that made you clutch the sheets and lose your breath. You felt completely his—invaded, possessed, submissive to his will because that was what you were. You’d been his submissive for months, submissive in every single thing he did for you until you gasped in a whisper: “Sunghoon… I’m about to come…” He leaned over you, warm breath against your mouth, and stroked your clit with a firm touch, small but precise movements. “So good for me… such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Come, sweetheart, I want to watch you, want to feel you tremble as you squeeze me inside you.” You nodded, eyes shiny, and seconds later your body tensed, pleasure exploding, liquid and burning through every nerve, making you tremble, moan, and cry as you sobbed from the pleasure of how good he was making you feel. “Yes… yes, like that…” he praised, thrusting deeper, feeling your orgasm pulsate around his cock. “Good girl… so tight when you come for me…” But it wasn’t over yet. He looked at you, chest rising in quick breaths. His red eyes gleamed with hunger. “But I…” he growled. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And he started moving again, this time more erratic, more wild. Every thrust made you scream, your voice breaking from the feeling of being filled again and again, deeper than you thought possible.

“S-Sunghoon…” you moaned, your hands gripping him everywhere.“Good thing this room is soundproof,” he said through clenched teeth, jaw tight. “Because I want to hear you scream for hours…” You giggled, panting, and he smiled at you with that damn sexy look, then locked eyes with you. “Sweetheart…” he murmured slowly. “Can I go all the way inside?”You nodded, stammering. “Y-yes… I’m on the pill… I want to feel you…”

He leaned down, his fangs brushing your ear. “Now that’s my good girl,” and then he pushed, with all his strength, all the way in, right to your G-spot, and started fucking you like he wanted to leave an indelible mark. “I’m filling you up, my angel… I want you full of my seed, I want it to stay inside you, so every time you touch yourself… you remember this.”

And so it was his thrusts became erratic, almost desperate, and your body trembling, ignited, saturated with pleasure welcomed him as if born to hold him, to be filled only by him. Sunghoon watched you, lost in your confused, exhausted expression, lips parted, eyes glossy, chest rising in gasps as you tried to catch your breath between moans. You were so beautiful, so his.

His red eyes shone, and when you felt his cock pulsing inside you, releasing his warm, thick seed flooding every corner of your little pussy, you screamed with pleasure,

“A-ahhh… Sunghoon…” And then he sunk his fangs into your neck, a precise, intense, sacred bite. The pain was sweet, the pleasure so visceral it made you lose track of time as he came inside you, continuing to suck you slowly, with restrained hunger, savoring every drop as if it were nectar—as if you had been his for centuries. The feeling of him coming inside you while biting you and drinking your blood was a new sensation, both painful and paradisiacal to your unconscious mind. He held you tight as his seed dripped inside you, slow and persistent, and your blood trickled down his lips. He had never felt so full, so satisfied, so alive; when he pulled away from your neck, he lifted his face, lips swollen, reddened, glossy with your blood.

“Divine…” he whispered, voice hoarse and broken. “You’re divine, sweetheart, so tight… so perfect for me…” But you were trembling.“It’s… too much…” you stammered, your body trying to recover from the multiple pleasures: orgasm, bite, fullness. He kissed your shoulder softly, then looked at you again. “You took it all… every drop…” he whispered, admiring you. When he pulled out slowly, long warm, sticky threads slid down your thighs, dripping between you, and Sunghoon looked at them with burning eyes, then bent down to kiss the inside of your thigh, right there.

“I love you when you’re this dirty… for me.”

He held you tight, pressing his chest against yours, his heart still pounding. Then, in a low voice, like a forbidden confession, he said for the first time in his life: “I love you…” — a fragile whisper, heavy with centuries of silence.

You nodded, still dazed, and closed your eyes, your body relaxing in his cold but enveloping arms. Inside, though, you felt a faint panic, as if your silence could break him. When your hands rose to stroke his sweat-damp hair, his face sank into the hollow of your neck, where he still felt your slow heartbeat, where he had bitten you. He kissed you there, with a tenderness almost desperate. “Sunghoon,” you murmured. He barely shook his head, hidden against your skin. “Sunghoon Park.” When he lifted his face, it was a wonderful mess: lips stained with blood, hair glued to his forehead, fangs still visible, eyes slowly returning to their natural color but with a new light — a light where you were both his weakness and his anchor of salvation.

You looked at him with all the love you had. “I love you too.” For a moment he said nothing, then you saw it: that flicker of vampire possessiveness that crossed his eyes, mixed with incredible shyness. “You’re not just mine now…” he whispered. “I’ve always been yours, forever, for every moment and every century you want, sweetheart.”

💌 vampire taglist: @azzy02 @iluvblackk @skzdelf @hollxe1 @averiesimss @heewenos @bllcksa @yollohblbl

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©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fic Idea: A little bit of Home

One day, out of the blue, J'onn J'onzz asks if he could celebrate a Martian holiday. He hadn't before, seeing as the pain of losing his people and his home was too fresh, but he missed the holidays of Mars. He felt that if he didn't try to bring back some of his celebrations, then they, too, would be lost to death.

His teammates were happy to celebrate with him; they were touched by his sharing this part of his culture. J'onn explained that all they had to do was bring a childhood food item to feast on. He explains that on Mars, recipes were passed down for generations, and having the ancestral food of friends and family was the second most crucial part of his holiday.

They are then left stunned when he admits that the feast is traditionally held that same night, but he had been too nervous to mention it beforehand. He allows them to change their minds, but no one dares to.

Heroes pour out of the Watch Tower, racing home to begin cooking, and the Martian is told that as soon as they have something, they will return in time for the meal.

No one mentions the tears gathering on the smiling Martian's face. Nor do they say that his humanoid form falls away to his proper form, a rare occasion to witness.

J'onn then starts decorating the Watch Tower as the Justice League members work on what they will each bring.

He places a lot of shimmering rocks in patterns on the ground. They weave and curl through the hallways as members are careful with no stepping on them. He then has Batman help him find different minerals that change the color of sand used in gorgeous art portraits of each member. (The man was more than capable of sending him information while helping Alfred bake cookies)

It took a bit of flying around the world, but he was able to return to the tower a few hours later with all-natural colored sand. (Thank goodness for the teleportation technology Bruce installed)

By then, a few heroes had returned, each carrying a food or drink container.

Those he forms in the cafeteria where the feast will be held. A crowd of heroes stands around, oohing and ahhing, as J'onn uses his telekinesis to move the sands and create all of them simultaneously, putting on a show.

He is singing hauntingly beautiful songs while hanging colorful drapes around the walls in the last few hours leading up to the feast. No one could understand the words, but everyone agreed that J'onn had an incredible voice.

Clark, arriving with three Kent apple pies, smiles. "He sang that at my house on Christmas Day."

J'onn informed everyone that the event would be formal wear- and everyone showed up dressed to the nines. Heroes who still hid their secret identity- like Batman- had arrived in their costumes, but they had added bowties or some other little accessories to make it formal.

Seeing Nightwing fix the tophat on Batman's head while Red Hood was dressed in a lovely suit, forgoing his usual helmet for a red half mask, was..... enlightening.

A few drinks were served while people walked around admiring the sand painting that J'onn had made. He depicted not only the heroes but also multiple parts of the world, then a section of their best missions, and finally, paintings of good memories they had all shared.

It was like a walkable photoalbum.

Spirits were high as members enjoyed themselves, smiling at the memories and chatting with friends in the few peaceful times of their crazy lives. No one could hold in the gasp when J'onn finished getting ready and arrived at the party. He had painted himself in different shades of blue, beaming in pride at the praise for his cultural markings.

He asked everyone to sit, standing to pray in his native tongue. A few heroes bowed their heads, and others merely sat comfortably, waiting for the Martian to finish.

He picked up his cup, raising it high in the air with his hand

"Friends," J'onn started, voicing, choked up with emotion. "I thank you all for joining me today. It means the world to me that you come here to celebrate the King's Feast. May Phantom watch over you all and freeze all your enemies!"

His cup floats out of his hand, turning to the side so the water can fall out and take the shape of a strange D. J'onn bowes his head, crossing his arms and muttering more prayers.

John Constantine, who had been attempting to sneak bites from the steak and kidney he brought, drops his fork. He stares in absolute shock at the flouting water symbol above the martian before Zatanna slaps him on the shoulder. "Don't be rude!"

He points one shaking finger at the Martian, turning to her with a pale face. "The Martians worship King Phantom!?"

She blinks. "Who's that?"

John moves his jaw, but no words leave his mouth as J'onn finishes his last prayer. He then holds up a plate proudly, explaining what it is and why he chose it to share. He encourages every hero to do the same, so voices fill the air one by one as they present their offering and the memory attached to it.

No one pays much mind to the blond British man desperately drawing wards on the ground using his green-colored chalk. When asked what her husband was doing, Zatanna shrugs helplessly.

Likewise, no one notices some of the plates mysteriously lose some of their contents. The food appears on Earth in the room of a very excited Halfa, who feeds on the foods and the emotions weaved into the meals.

J'onn later claims that this Great One Day felt like King Phantom was slightly closer than usual.

[seaborgium-dazies]

think of me ♡mdni

walking in on mha boys masturbating pt.2

🌊: deku, bakugo

Deku:

You noticed that deku wasn't on top of his game 30 minutes into class. He kept drifting off and looking around the room in a panicked manner and when you tried to help him by whispering what the teacher just said he looked even worse.

Deku looked uncharacteristically lost, he kept squirming in his seat and he looked a little flushed too. So naturally you tried to convinced him to go get some rest. You assured him that you'd give him the notes as soon as he felt better. You pushed your worries away as he took you up on your idea. Still, dekus behavior was more than odd.

You bought some chicken soup after class, copied your notes and even drew a silly doodle on a sticky note, to cheer him up. So you continued your usual after class routine; you walked to dekus dorm room and pushed the door open.

Dekus was laying between a mess of sheets and blankets, his shirt bunched up and most of his body visible. You saw the gentle yet precise movement of his hand against his cock. His thumb massaging the tip, which was a beautiful shade of pink. Dekus eyes were shut and his lips were contorted in a breathy moan.

And as if that hadn't given you enough reason to gasp, the fact that you heard your name fall from his lips, definetly did.

This mix of lust and adoration was so raunchy that you let out an audible gasp, which made dekus eyes shoot open.

It took a hot minute for deku to cover up and stop rambling as if his life depended on it. You took your sweet time coming down from that shock as well. You were both left speechless and furiously blushing, unsure how to proceed.

Finally, you put the soup down next to his bed, feeling like the sun was shining from within you.

"You know I can't hear you if you call out to me like that, next time try my phone instead"

Bakugo:

You were sparring with bakugo when he stormed off after defeating you once more. He left you lying on the floor, huffing and puffing, massaging your shoulder as you tried to collect yourself. Due to this intense sparring session you were utterly spent and you couldn't help but wonder how bakugo had enough energy left to power walk away from you. He mumbled something about taking a shower and before you could process his words he was already gone.

When you were discharged from training you noticed that some piece of metal was lying around where you and bakugo had sparred. It was the same shade as his bracers and some screwdrivers were also laying around in the general vicinity. Did it fall off? Or did he take it off intentionally? Either way, you should probably return it.

You were standing in front of his room and when you didn't hear the shower running you figured you'd be in the clear. You couldn't have been more wrong.

When you opened the door you saw bakugo sprawled out on his bed, a white towel beneath him. While his body was still glistening with drops of water, his eyes were clenched shut and his fist was moving up and down his cock at a fast pace. His lips were slightly parted and he held something against his face, inhaling deeply. You recognized the color immediately - bakugo took your clothes?!

You were so shocked the metal fell out of your hands and landed on the floor of his dorm. Bakugos eyes shot open and you saw a brief look of shame turn into anger.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Bakugos voice was accompanied by the throw of a pillow which you masterfully dodged. In the span of seconds he covered himself up and you started furiously apologizing, tripping over your words.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to! I thought- because the shower wasn't running- I should've knocked; really- I just came to bring- return this"

You went to hand it to him but placed it on his bed instead. As you met his intense gaze both of your breaths hitched and you realized that there really was no going back.

The romantic tension that both of you tried so hard to hide upwards to that moment was unavoidable after this incident.

"Let me just-"

In your shocked daze you reached over his body to grab your clothing off of his bed and bolted out of his room.

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

do not steal, translate, reupload or edit.

[nmakii]

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

[rotagnus]

[🪷☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆] PAC.

the rest of 2025.

[sections]: personal messages; general messages; love messages; messages about people; themes/lessons. [🪷☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆]

this one will be more of a lengthy one and i tried to choose images that weren't extremely similar so there'd be a stronger pull towards one, if that makes sense? i know i've been doing a lot of future-oriented pacs recently (partially bc im graduating hs myself and want a bit of reassurance for college 😔), so the next pacs will be more fun!! about like crushes, people, etc. if you have any suggestions feel free to drop 'em in the ask box as an anon or something!

p1.

personal messages; okay so you as a person are definitely on the darker side of personalities. you guys are very moon-like, and may view things through a more critical lens in fear of things being 'too good' or you being 'too hopeful'. you guys have good style. shorter hair, curly 3a-4a for a specific few of you. many dress in darker colors. skirts. gold jewelry. a lot of you may have a crush on one of your friends. you guys have great intuition and many of you have this effervescent quality about you that just pulls people in. magnetic, you emit this sense of nostalgia that keeps people stuck to you, which can be a good or bad thing. you guys are like cats, very specific with who you like, but once you get them? clingyyyy. many of you are genuine too, and have this mindset of 'don't be strategic w me when i'm being genuine w you' (i think i reblogged a post like that and it brings u to mind). a lot of you have a fear of the future and dying alone.

general messages; winter is definitely going to be a significant season for you, out of all of 2025. so that even means the earlier months that have already passed, but i think there'll be a stark difference between those and november, december. the summer and autumn may be more of passing periods for you; a lot of you will let your hair grow, things are going to be more of a constant than rapid changes. this can unsettle some of you who always need to be busy with something, but this is a time to nurture your talents. you'll need all the strength you can get for later parts of your life. many of you are going to be growing something; this can be as small as a literal plant, to a project, to a talent, to even a baby.

love messages; it seems like a lot of you lost hope with love. like reaching to a sky of stars, but your hands can never go far enough to actually grab one of the elusive solar bodies. 'no one noticed' by the marias may be significant. there's a lot of people that you'll meet who you'll think are attractive or interesting, but you won't necessarily feel a deeper pull to them, so you're kind of like 'mehhh maybe love doesn't exist for me'. i think many might end up falling in love with a friend or becoming friends with someone who you're like. really passionate about at first, platonically, then you realize 'oh shit i'm falling for them'. some of you are definitely already in that phase.

messages ab people; you'll have a lot of outings!! public places will be very significant, particularly bustling ones, such as malls, cities, etc. your friends will give you a very tender feeling that'll make you feel fulfilled. some might be younger than you or generally behind you in life lessons, and you'll be very motherly toward them. this will heal a part of you that always wished there'd be someone to guide YOU. you guys are very soft-hearted people but a lot of you doubt that quality of yours; i'm here to tell you, your friends see this! and they love it about you, even though they may not say it much. you guys are as sweet as cake <3 and ofc those who are worried you'll never find someone that'll actually like you?? honey i promise you will.

themes/lessons; mmm as for lessons you guys are going to learn how to not be so serious and uptight...this is a defense mechanism for a lot of you, and you guys are using this because you have trust issues and and lots of deep-rooted fears, but i think many of you will be able to heal and nurture this part of you, especially later on in the year. you'll learn how to rest and take care of yourself, and you'll build a 'fantastic life' for yourself. some of you will learn that sometimes there is no choice other than to leave an environment, or a bad person; you're going to realize that this shows your strength rather than defeat. many of you will learn how to be proud of yourself.

signs/confirmations; night owls. seashells. ceramic pots/tiles. sharp jaw. pink heels. chipped nails. labrador retrievers. 333. 2:00-3:00pm. bubblegum. ayesha erotica.

p2.

personal messages; a lot of you are closed-off at this current moment. many of you are rather deep people, similar to a maze; it's worth it, in the end though. many of you are lionhearted. many are deeply in tune with the universe. you guys are very loving people, and can come off as a bit loud or too bright; the truth is you're never ever going to be too much for the right people. many of u wanna give up a part of yourself in this current moment, DON'T. if you don't give up on yourself, you will be handed peace. eternal peace. you guys have a very drowsy kind of beauty. many of u are curvaceous or thick and this is a quality others find very beautiful about you. your eyes are particularly gorgeous, and others can get lost in them very easily. you guys relax others very easily and they see you as a source of comfort. your ambition to creating a good life for yourself is truly admirable, and many people see you getting exactly what you want because you deserve it, babycakes.

general messages; hmmm as for general messages, i'm hearing peace. i think a lot of you are going through a big transformation right now and everything that you've neatly built up for yourself is falling apart. but it's falling apart to reveal paradise behind it, honeydove. don't be afraid of the unknown. the rest of 2025 will bear plentiful fruit for you, fruit that you've grown and wanted from the beginning. i just heard 'a new kind of love'. yeahh platonically/romantically you'll be shown that you're not hard to love. a lot of you hold a lot of doubts about yourself, and trust me, this'll be the kind of love you've NEVER experienced before, from friends, family, all people in your life. you probably don't even believe it exists. this year will break apart your worldview and reinforce it into something much stronger than you thought it could ever be.

love messages; good fortune!! you'll succeed, proving the people who doubted you wrong. many of you will experience new things in the sphere of love, and right now, you have to stop setting mental limits for yourself. expecting that love will turn out a specific way for you is frowned upon. stop guessing and just let yourself feel. after all, that's what you're good at. you will learn that the sweetest thing you can be is yourself, and that you were never 'too much'. of course, some people won't be able to handle the love inside of you, but there will also be people who have yearned for someone who is as passionate and caring as they are. the rest of the year, ESPECIALLY in love, will serve to break the barriers that you've set up for yourself. you crave everything that's coming for you.

messages ab people; a lot of the people that come into your life (yes!! new people) will be a result of your boundaries being strong. you've resisted any attempts for people to get into your little world, knowing that some of them were just there to use you and wreck you. people will come into your life and you won't push them away, because you will know that they're the right ones for you. some of you may still experience social anxiety, but you will learn how to deal with it. a lot of core memories will be formed and you'll stop feeling that tension deep in your shoulders. your dream life is being carved out for you, bit by bit. i'm not saying that you'll get everything you ever wanted in a snapshot, babycakes. but the road to your desires is not as rocky as you think.

themes/lessons; so a big part of this year is learning how to be patient and how to not settle for things. i feel like a lot of you have this ability in you to recognize when you should give certain things up because they're not meant for you, and this comes to you relatively easy, but it leaves you mournful and empty. those holes will be filled up, and it'll heal certain parts of yourself too. you'll spend time with people who genuinely care for you and you'll be like...'oh. maybe i'm not as hard to love as i originally thought'. a lot of you will be healing your inner child; homecooked meals may be significant, and a lot of warmth will be coming to you guys, especially in the material sense. blankets, cuddles :) etc.

signs/confirmations; glasses. apples. black jeans. deep purple. stars. lamps. light. crabs. arachnids. watermelon. baby chicks. hoop earrings. cherry blossoms. strangers. jazz music. the internet.

p3.

personal messages; a lot of you are very playful people. ponytails and braids may be your style of hair. you guys can be considered clingy and are very verbally and/or physically affectionate, especially to your family n friends. you may be quiet at first but you end up being a rather bubbly person later. you enjoy nature and the small good things in life; many of you want to preserve everything you see, which can range from being a photographer, journaling things down, or hoarding stuff. you guys can get overstimulated very easily and this can come off to other people as excitement or nervousness. you guys are very clear to people and they can really see what you're feeling by your facial expression or tone of voice. many may have collections of certain things; particularly shoes or headwear or accessories. many of you prefer rain, cloudy weather, and the night to bright lighting. you guys have a knack for aesthetics and know where to look for beauty. microtrend baddie.

general messages; you guys will be getting lots of opportunities coming your way and you'll have to make a lot of decisions. 'wheel of fortune' popped out so i'm wagering that a lot of things that happen will be in the spur of the moment. new beginnings and endings will be significant, and a lot of things will be happening. you may be busy for the rest of the year, which will leave you with little time for the self; so i highly encourage you to find ways to nurture yourself even when you're hustling and bustling around. don't neglect yourself just because you want to take care of other people. some of you may get a gift such as a perfume or something expensive later on, particularly during birthdays/the holiday season.

love messages; a lot of the circumstances surrounding love will be a reflection of what you put in. those of you that were good-hearted people and hold yourself to a high-standard will have that returned to you; those who hurt others, especially on purpose, will have karma coming back. i get that a lot of you give compliments easily and you genuinely want people to win, so that can come back in the form of romantic offers and compliments back. most of you will have some sort of longevity in this; a situationship, staying w your current partner, or crushing on someone for a long part of the rest of the year. a lot of things won't be changing up this year, as it's meant to teach you something.

messages ab people; eeee as for people, you may feel that others are constantly attacking you because of the way that you changed. a lot of you underwent a metamorphosis and come out stronger, more beautiful, or with a stronger sense of self. other people have realized that it's harder to get you to react or to give parts of yourself away, now, and this can make them angry. you may feel as if a lot of connections are falling apart, but babycakes; it is all coming together. a lot of you will have a very solitary view on your life, thinking that you don't need anybody. at times this will be proven wrong, with strangers coming to assist you in a way that gives you more faith in the universe, and more faith that your goodness will eventually be returned back to you despite your current circumstances.

themes/lessons; a lot of you will be dealing with some bittersweet things. lots of lessons about sacrificing things for the greater good. a lot of this year's focus is going to be letting things go and trusting that they'll return to you. 2026 will be the result of your efforts, and you're going to have to grow a deeper strength in the spiritual, or your belief system. in order for you not to lose faith, you will be given tiny snapshots of belief; as i've said before, strangers, new friends, surprise gifts, or messages that you weren't even expecting will appear, and you'll feel a bit safer and more reassured when you see these things. many of you are like flowers; it takes time for them to bloom, and this year is going to be the year of the roots reaching deep into the rich soil. you will bear your petals next year, babycakes.

signs/confirmations; ichiko aoba. navy blue. monarch. border collies. blue wall color. moving away. returning back home. 0.5 pictures. lime. kiwi birds. spoiled food. round face. collar. lacey blouse.

[pucksandpower]

The Princess and the Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader

Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians

Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this

“And if you’ll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, I’ll take you to meet Kevin now,” the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.

You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.

“Oh goody,” your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.

Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. “We’re very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmark’s driver.”

The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haas’ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.

You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, you’ve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.

“And I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevin’s day!” The rep continues enthusiastically. “He was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.”

You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your mother’s family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.

Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, she’s already mastered your family’s signature skill — conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.

“I have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,” the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. “It would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.”

You force a smile, already shaking your head. “Oh, I’m afraid we can’t wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.”

The PR rep’s face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. “Of course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?”

She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.

As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, it’s an honor to meet you.”

You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. “The honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.”

Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. “Please, call me Kevin.”

You return his smile politely. “Very well, Kevin it is.”

The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and you’re grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.

As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.

You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. There’s something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.

Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now that’s a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up you’ve heard is full of young talent — what’s not to love?

You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.

You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.

But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.

His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if you’re okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.

In this moment, it’s just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasn’t let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.

You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.

You stand frozen, lost in the stranger’s mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.

“Your Royal Highness, are you alright?” Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.

You blink, the spell broken as Henrik’s hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.

The stranger’s eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrik’s suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.

Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.

“Oscar! What are you doing, mate? We’ve got the strategy briefing in five!”

You watch as the man — Oscar, apparently — glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.

Oscar’s hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. “Sorry, I—”

But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscar’s shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go. No time for chatting up fans when we’ve got quali coming up.”

Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.

You stare after them for a long moment before Henrik’s voice breaks through your daze once more.

“Your Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?”

You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him quickly. “Just a bit clumsy this morning it seems.”

You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.

Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.

As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.

The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. You’re sure they’ll have the truth out of you before long.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N,” your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. “Have a nice stroll?”

You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.

“Lovely, thank you,” you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.

You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblings’ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.

“You look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?” Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.

“Just peachy!” You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.

From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. “You do seem rather … distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?”

You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.

“Oh leave your sister be,” your mother chides. “I’m sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.”

You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

You’re immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to “give the team space to prepare for qualifying,” and drawing your family’s attention away from you.

You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.

As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.

“Soooo,” she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Who’s got you all flustered then?”

You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. “What? No one! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.

You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. “I may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.”

Isabella’s grin turns positively feline. “Oh, do tell ...”

“There’s nothing to tell!” you insist, face flaming once more. “We collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. That’s all.”

“Mmhmm, I’m sure that blush is just because you’re so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.”

You scowl and take a long swig of your water.

Isabella chuckles. “So was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?”

You nearly choke again. “Isabella!” You admonish under your breath.

She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. “What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.”

You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, “He … wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking.”

“Aha!” Isabella crows triumphantly. “I knew it!”

You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

“Do you know his name at least?” Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.

You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.���

Isabella hums thoughtfully. “Very mysterious ...”

You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. “Oh stop it. Can we please just drop this?”

“Of course, of course,” Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.

You’re prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblings’ knowing looks.

You determinedly put the morning’s events from your mind, focusing on Kevin’s qualifying efforts. Though you can’t help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren — Oscar — was the one flying around the track instead.

The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.

As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.

“Excellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.”

Kevin smiles wryly back at you. “You’re too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.”

You nod sympathetically. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.”

Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. “You have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.”

You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the day’s obligations finally complete.

As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, “Do you think Kevin would’ve qualified higher if Haas wasn’t so slow?”

You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.

“Without question,” you whisper back. “I think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.”

Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.

***

You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your family’s teasing, you can’t seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.

Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.

You know it’s foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet … those eyes. You can’t shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.

The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.

“Mor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.”

Your mother’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Go out? Alone?”

You rush to reassure her. “Oh no, I’ll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.”

You see a flash of understanding on your mother’s face and press your advantage. “In fact, didn’t you and Far meet during a pub crawl?”

Pink stains your mother’s cheeks but her lips quirk up. “I suppose we did. But those were different times ...”

“Please Mor?” You plead. “When will I have a chance like this again?”

Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. “Oh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.”

You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll stay safe.”

As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. “Hey, can I come too?”

“Absolutely not,” your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.

You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.

An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.

Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesn’t comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.

When you arrive, the bouncer’s eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguards’ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and you’re granted access without a fuss.

The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.

You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight you’re just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.

Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But they’re discreet enough to give you space.

You’re so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you don’t notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.

“Y-Your Highness!” He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. “I mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, I’m not actually sure—”

You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.

“Oscar!” You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Pink stains Oscar’s tanned cheeks. “Ah, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But what brings Denmark’s future queen out to the clubs?”

You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. “Can’t a girl just want to dance and have some fun?”

Oscar’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Suppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink … er ...”

He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.

You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. “Tonight, I’m just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.”

Relief flashes across Oscar’s face and he smiles. “Y/N it is.”

Soon you’ve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.

You’re amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crown’s ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, you’re not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.

When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. “Oh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?”

Oscar’s eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. “Ah, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.”

He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.

The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.

When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscar’s face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.

Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. “I wish this didn’t have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. “Would … would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?”

Your face lights up. “I’d love that.” Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Oscar’s hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.

***

The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscar’s brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.

As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. There’s no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.

You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. “I’m afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think I’ll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.”

Your mother’s brows furrow in concern. “Oh dear, that won’t do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.”

You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.

You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.

You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?

Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

“Good morning!” He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.

You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.

“So … you’re a driver. Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning that last night.”

Pink stains Oscar’s cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.” His eyes turn pleading. “I hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didn’t already know everything about me for once.”

You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. “Well, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And it’s not as if I was fully forthcoming either.”

Oscar’s shoulders sag in relief. “Too right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.” His eyes dance playfully.

You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. “Oscar! Debrief in two minutes, let’s go!”

Oscar smiles apologetically. “Duty calls. But let’s continue this later?”

At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.

Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.

A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevin’s efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.

The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscar’s podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.

Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscar’s podium.

“Nice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.”

Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.

As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Not a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?”

You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.

“Indeed,” you murmur back. “One must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.”

Isabella’s eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

As the celebrations kick off for Oscar’s first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.

Someday soon, perhaps you’ll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.

If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.

***

You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.

You’ve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.

“Princess! Wait up!”

You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I’m so glad I caught you before I had to leave,” you smile brightly. “I had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!”

Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. “And, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. “You know I can’t answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and I’m so pleased for your result.”

Oscar’s grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.

“Well I’m glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.”

You groan good-naturedly. “Ugh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.”

Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. “I suppose this means you’ll be heading back to Denmark now though?”

You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. “Oh no, we’re spending a few more weeks visiting my mother’s family in Tasmania first.”

At Oscar’s look of surprise, you elaborate, “My mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.”

Understanding dawns on Oscar’s face. “Well how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.” He winks playfully.

Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. “I suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.”

A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.

Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. “Too right, you’ve got me there.” His laughter fades to a soft smile. “But I can’t say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.”

The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.

“I should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.”

Oscar’s face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.

Once you’ve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.

Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “Well, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...”

“Right, yes ...” You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscar’s smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.

Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscar’s arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.

You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until it’s just this — the two of you suspended in time.

Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Travel safely, Princess. I’ll see you soon.” His voice holds a promise.

You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.

You don’t look back, though you can feel Oscar’s gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.

Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.

***

You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.

“Eager today, are we Princess?”

You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. “Oh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.”

Oscar’s answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. “Guilty. I’ll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.”

Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. “Flatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?”

“Oh where to even start!” Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama — teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.

“Meanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...” Oscar continues, recounting his teammate’s latest antics.

You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. “Honestly, I don’t know how McLaren copes with you two!”

“We keep things lively, that’s for sure,” Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. “Although we’d love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...”

He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.

“Funny you should mention that … I’ve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale crackles through the phone. “Really? You’d come to another race?” His voice turns playful. “Any particular reason for the sudden interest?”

You laugh, hoping he can’t hear the breathlessness in it. “Oh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...” You pause before adding softly, “Getting to see a certain Aussie driver again.”

Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. “Well I’m sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. “As it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.”

“That’s perfect!” Oscar enthuses. “Spa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say you’ll be there?”

His boyish eagerness melts your heart. “I’ll speak to our communications secretary this week. I’m sure they can make it happen.”

“Brilliant.” The tender hope in Oscar’s voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.

You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.

“I suppose I should let you go then ...” He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.

You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. “Wait, you haven’t told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!”

Oscar huffs out a laugh. “Trust me, words don’t do justice to the monstrosity. I’ll send pictures so you can experience it fully.”

“It’s a deal.” You know you’re only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.

Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.

“Hey Y/N, Mor wants to know if … is that Oscar you’re talking to?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly.

You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. “Sorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!”

Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.

You smack his shoulder indignantly. “You little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!”

Christian just cackles gleefully. “Oh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.” He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.

“Just you wait until you’re madly pining over someone, I’ll get my revenge,” you threaten.

But inside, not even Christian’s teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.

***

Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.

And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.

Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. “Oscar!”

He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.

Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.

“You came,” Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he can’t quite believe you’re real.

You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. “Of course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.”

Oscar’s answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.

“Well then, allow me to escort you inside properly.” He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.

After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.

The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.

Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.

“Ready to meet the team, Princess?” At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.

You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.

“Zak, Andrea — there’s someone special I want you both to meet.”

The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.

“This is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.”

Zak’s eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. “Your Royal Highness, welcome. We’re honored to host you in our garage.”

You return his firm handshake. “The honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.”

After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.

“Oscar, mate! There you are, I’ve been ...” The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.

“Lando, come meet the princess!” Oscar calls out cheekily.

Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. “Your Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.”

Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Lando’s shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.

“But, wait.” Lando glances between you again in confusion. “You mean all those times you cooed ’good morning, Princess’ over the phone … you were talking to an actual princess!”

Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.

After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,” he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.

The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.

But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. You’re on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.

The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.

You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.

The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.

Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermé but Oscar’s performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. “Quickly, he’ll want you there for this!”

Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.

Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.

In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek … and then his lips find yours.

The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscar’s lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.

When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscar’s breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.

***

You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscar’s podium kiss yesterday, you’ve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.

A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. “The call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.”

Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your family’s faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).

Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.

“Your Royal Highness, might we have a word about this … incident from the race?” The chief advisor’s tone drips disapproval.

Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. “Of course.”

“I trust you’ve seen the coverage?” At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, “Then you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.”

You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, “Such scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.”

The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.

“The narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.”

The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.

“Enough!” Your father’s stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.

Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. “My dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that you’re happy.”

Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.

“I know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.” His eyes soften, finding your mother. “I’ll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.”

Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.

The fight drains from the advisors under your father’s resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.

Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.

“Soooo … looks like someone had an eventful race!”

Heat floods your cheeks but you can’t suppress a giddy smile. “It just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.”

“This Oscar must be something special,” your mother remarks kindly.

Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscar’s kiss. “He really is. I can’t explain it, but it feels … right with him.”

Your normally stoic mother looks touched. “Then he has my blessing.”

On her other side, Christian smirks. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re in looooove.” He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hush dear, let your sister be happy,” your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. “Reminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...”

Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. “Too right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.” He winks at you. “We Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.”

You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your family’s support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.

You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you won’t be facing them alone.

Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.

But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.

“So ...” he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, “Think your family will let you keep me around?”

You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.

Let the world say what they will. You’ve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscar’s arms encircling you now, you know you’re right where you belong.

***

“Come on, it’ll be great! When’s the next chance you’ll get to come down under?”

Oscar’s pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.

“I don’t know … won’t I be imposing on your family time?”

Oscar waves a hand breezily. “Nah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, they’ll smother you with Aussie hospitality.”

You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And you’re endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.

Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. “There’s so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...”

His voice turns coaxing. “And just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...”

Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.

“Oh alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.”

Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. “Yes! You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!

The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally you’re boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.

Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home you’ve missed so much.

As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.

Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.

You spot them immediately — Oscar’s smile mirrored on his mother’s face and his kind eyes reflected in his father’s crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.

“Your Royal Highness, we’re so honored to finally meet you!” His mother gushes. “Oscar’s told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.”

You smile, charmed by her easy manner. “The honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.”

She pats your hand merrily. “Of course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, let’s get you home and settled.”

The ride to Oscar’s childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parents’ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.

When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. “We’ve freshened up Oscar’s old room for you, I do hope it’s comfortable.”

You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Excellent!” Nicole claps her hands. “Now, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chris’ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.

“We’re just delighted to finally meet the girl who’s made our Oscar so happy.”

Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents aren’t looking.

The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.

Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscar’s room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.

Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. “This was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.

Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscar’s arms, you have everything you need.

Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.

“Sweet dreams, my princess,” he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.

The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity — lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscar’s family feels like coming to a second home.

On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.

“I don’t want this to end,” you whisper into the quiet night.

Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. “It’s only the start for us.”

And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know he’s right. This is just the beginning.

***

You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.

It’s his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know they’ll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.

The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.

Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.

Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.

You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home you’ve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“There’s my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you so much, Princess.”

Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.

“Well now I see why you were so eager for Oscar’s visit. Should I come back later?”

You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscar’s hand, you lead him towards the family wing.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to finally meet you properly.”

Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.

Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscar’s hand firmly. “Oscar, welcome. We’re delighted to have you here.”

Oscar returns the handshake graciously. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.

Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.

With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.

“Sooo tell us,” Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. “What exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?”

Oscar just grins, unfazed. “Why, to make her happy every single day, of course.”

You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.

“Good answer!” Christian crows. “But know if you ever hurt her, you’ll have the entire Danish army to answer to.”

Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.

“You have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.”

Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.

The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscar’s childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.

Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.

“Whew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.”

You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. “You were wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

Oscar’s eyes soften. “Me too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.”

Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.

A loud retching sound interrupts you. “Ugh, get a room you two!” Christian complains, dodging your swat.

Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. “Don’t worry mate, I plan to.”

He silences Christian’s protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscar’s warmth, you can’t bring yourself to care who sees.

***

Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscar’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.

The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. There’s something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.

Sensing your tension, Oscar’s hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. “Penny for your thoughts, love?”

You lean into his touch, gathering courage. “I was just thinking about the future. Our future.” You twist to meet his gaze. “I know it’s still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...”

You trail off uncertainly, but Oscar’s eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.

“There are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.”

You watch Oscar’s face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. “Of course, that makes sense. I’m happy to learn whatever I need to.”

Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.

“For example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role … it was a massive life change.”

You take a bracing breath. “I don’t expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...”

You trail off meaningfully. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle your face. “Hey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, I’m in this 100%.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to build a life together.”

Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. “Well, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?”

Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. “Ja, det lyder perfekt.”

You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. “You brat, have you been practicing without telling me?”

Oscar’s eyes dance with laughter. “Maybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.”

His smile turns tender. “I’d love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.”

Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. “Alright, let’s start simple. Like hej simply means hello.”

Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.

“Jeg elsker dig,” you murmur, gazing into his eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Oscar echoes. “What does it mean?”

Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. “It means I love you.”

Oscar’s sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.

“Jeg elsker dig,” he repeats reverently.

Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, “Jeg elsker dig, Oscar.”

The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscar’s arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.

When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. “What else can you teach me?”

Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.

But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.

You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.

As you finally part at the airport, his whispered “jeg elsker dig” warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.

***

You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.

Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner — a lavish gala in honor of the new children’s hospital bearing your mother’s name.

A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. “Safe to look?”

You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. “Yes, come in.”

Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. “Wow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.”

He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. “Going to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.”

You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.”

And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.

“Shall we?” He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.

“We shall.”

The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.

You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospital’s key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.

But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. “Is it terrible I’m already bored senseless? I’d rather actually meet these kids we’re meant to be helping.”

You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.

As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscar’s eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.

Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.

“Quick, while we won’t be missed. Let’s actually go see the children.”

Excitement flashes across Oscar’s face. “Brilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.”

Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.

“Rigshospitalet, please. Quickly.”

At the children’s hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.

“So sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?”

The receptionist’s mouth opens and closes before she stutters, “O-of course, Your Highness, right away!” Clearly your boldness has paid off.

You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.

At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.

“Mama, it’s the princess! And her boyfriend!”

You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.

You laugh and enter slowly. “We were hoping we might visit you, if that’s alright?”

The girl — Else — nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Else’s delight.

As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, she’s just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.

All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.

“Thank you! This was like a fairytale.” Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.

You hug Else gently before kneeling down. “It was our honor. You stay strong, little one.”

Her returning whisper warms your heart. “Don’t worry, I will!”

Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but it’s a welcome ache. The children’s awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.

Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscar’s eyes mirror the same emotion.

Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you it’s time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.

Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.

Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all — this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.

You know you’ll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.

Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscar’s arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.

“I think tonight was the most important royal function I’ve ever attended,” he murmurs.

You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.

The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart — the only currency that counts can’t be bought, only given freely through love.

***

Two Years Later

You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.

Now, you’re about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.

At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.

You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.

Because today also brings another announcement — one that will upend Oscar’s world irreversibly.

Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscar’s character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.

Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.”

He gazes at you softly before continuing. “I’m truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmark’s lovely princess.”

You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.

But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.

“While I’m elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this season’s conclusion.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscar’s grip tightens as he pushes forward.

“As a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.”

His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscar’s passion — having to walk away is unimaginably hard.

Oscar visibly gathers himself. “But as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.”

He turns to you then, eyes glistening. “The honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.”

Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.

His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.

Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.

“Til Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ære, respekt og kærlighed.”

The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscar’s speech in their native tongue.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise — to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.

Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.

“Oscar’s love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.”

Your voice wavers with feeling. “Though it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.”

You reach for Oscar’s hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. “He gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.”

Oscar’s fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.

But you remain lost in Oscar’s eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.

Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.

Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.

Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. “I meant every word,” he whispers fiercely. “You are my whole world now.”

You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.

“I know, min kæreste. We’ll face this new future together.”

The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.

A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.

***

Five Years Later

The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.

In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her father’s excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.

You reach over to still Oscar’s jostling knee, smiling indulgently. “Easy there, we’ve barely arrived and you’re already wound up.”

Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. “Can you blame me? It’s been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.

But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.

As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.

“He lives! The prodigal prince returns!” A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.

Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.

“Good to see you too, mate. It’s been way too long.”

You round the car to find Oscar’s former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.

Oscar’s eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.

As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. “And who do we have here? Don’t tell me this little beauty is your daughter?”

Oscar beams, waving you both over. “She is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.”

Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. “No way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!”

Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. “What can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.” He kisses Maise’s wavy hair, eyes finding yours. “I’ve got all I need right here.”

Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.

More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.

Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. “It’s so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!”

For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscar’s face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.

But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. “That’s a lovely offer, truly. But I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the royal box.”

He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. “Some of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.” Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her father’s smile.

You slip your arm through Oscar’s, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.

You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Can’t believe it’s been five years already,” he murmurs. “Feels like another lifetime.”

You smile up at him sadly. “I know, my love. But look at everything you’ve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldn’t even be happening without you.”

Oscar huffs a small laugh. “Too right. Who needs driving when I’ve got you two anyway?”

He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.

Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.

This may no longer be Oscar’s world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where he’s meant to be.

[dismalflo]

matchmakers association

Remus lupin x fem!reader ✩ 5k words

Summary: You and Remus are hopeless, but James and Sirius aren’t quitters.

cw: fluff, shy!reader, kind of shy!remus, mutual pining, James and Sirius play matchmakers and are general menaces.

From where Sirius is sitting, it’s impossible to miss the way Remus looks at you, like every word spilling from your lips is the most important thing he’s ever heard. He’s leaning forward just slightly, head tilted in that way he does when he’s fully tuned in, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are warm, attentive, like he’s trying to memorise you.

You're sitting there, fingers nervously twisting in the hem of your jumper, voice barely above a whisper as you recount the dream you had last night. Something about floating books in the library and a talking tabby cat with a monocle who demanded five galleons in overdue fines. You weren’t going to mention it to anyone—it’s ridiculous, really—but when Remus had asked how you slept, it caught you off guard. And you panicked.

Remus laughs, quiet and breathy. He leans in closer, resting his elbows on his knees, watching you like you’ve just gifted him something precious. His grin is effortless, lopsided, and it sends a pulse through your chest that’s so sudden, it borders on painful.

“Did the cat ever get its money?” he asks, mock-serious but clearly enjoying himself.

You blink, startled by the question, and then laugh, a shy, uncertain sound that’s more exhale than voice. “No. I think I woke up before I could pay him.”

“Tragic,” he murmurs, eyes twinkling. “Poor feline economy.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he says it, and something in his expression, so open, so achingly kind, threatens to unravel you completely. You glance down, focusing intensely on a loose thread near your sleeve, hoping it distracts from the way your heart feels too big for your chest.

Across the room, Sirius raises a single eyebrow, watching the scene unfold like he’s in on some joke no one else knows the punchline to. He catches your eye briefly, and though his expression is unreadable, it carries that familiar glint of knowing. He definitely knows.

“I—um,” you stammer, the words colliding in your throat like a stack of falling books. “I should head up. I’ve got some work to finish.”

Remus straightens a little, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face—disappointment? Concern? Whatever it is, it’s gone before you can name it. He nods gently.

“Alright,” he says. “Don’t let the cat find you again.”

You smile despite yourself, a small, fluttery thing that barely reaches your eyes. With a mumbled goodbye, you slip away, still clutching the hem of your jumper in your fist like it’s the only thing anchoring you. You can feel Sirius’s gaze trail after you, all the way to the stairs.

Remus, for his part, doesn’t look away. His eyes stay locked on the doorframe you just disappeared through, unmoving. His brow is furrowed slightly, replaying every word, every laugh, every nervous twitch of your fingers in his mind on an endless loop.

He doesn’t even notice James walking into the room.

James pauses, glancing between Remus and Sirius with a look of dawning confusion. Sirius, who has been watching the whole interaction unfold like it’s the most entertaining show on Earth, lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair, stretching out leisurely.

“You’ve got to put the poor thing out of her misery,” Sirius says, tone light but threaded with a teasing sharpness. His arms cross over his chest, and the smirk tugging at his lips is all mischief.

Remus blinks, startled. “What are you talking about?” he asks, instinctively defensive. “We—we’re friends, Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t even blink. “Oh, come off it,” he says smoothly, waving a hand toward the door you’ve just gone through. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Moony.”

Remus turns away slightly, color rising in his cheeks. Sirius notices, of course. He notices everything.

He glances at James, who’s now standing squarely in the doorway, clearly trying to figure out what he’s walked in on. Sirius grins wider, as though he’s about to share something scandalous. “James,” he calls, sing-song, drawing out the name like it’s the start of a revelation.

“What?” James asks, brow raised.

“Who are we talking about?” Sirius says casually, as though the answer should be obvious.

James frowns, glancing again between the two of them. “Y/N?” he guesses.

Sirius snaps his fingers and points. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

James raises both eyebrows. “Well yeah, she proper fancies moony.” he says, like it's the most well known thing in the world.

“What? No, that’s—” Remus flushes deeper, stumbling over the words like they’re foreign. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mate,” Sirius says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed, “I’ve seen her say more to you in five minutes than she’s said to me in five years. Shame too, must be funny with how you were going on.”

Remus looks like he wants to disappear. “Sirius, no. It’s not—it’s just...”

“You’re sweet on her too,” James says, not unkindly, though the teasing is still evident. “Obviously.”

Remus freezes. His mouth opens like he might deny it again, but no words come out. His eyes flick toward the door, desperate, like maybe you’ll come back and spare him.

Sirius leans forward, wolfish grin on his face. “Just admit it.”

Remus’s face twists in frustration. “It’s not like that, you sods.”

“Sure it’s not,” Sirius says dryly.

Remus stands abruptly, hands clenched into fists, eyes flashing. “Just because you two only ever think with your dicks doesn’t mean I do,” he snaps. “She doesn’t like me, and I don’t—” His voice falters for half a second, but then he sets his jaw. “It’s never going to happen.”

Before either of them can speak, he turns on his heel and storms out, boots echoing against the floorboards, shoulders tight with tension he can’t shake.

The door slams behind him.

Sirius exhales slowly, the grin slipping off his face, replaced by something closer to a grimace. “Always so bloody dramatic with him,” he mutters, not unkindly. There's fondness in the complaint, buried just beneath the surface.

James watches the door for a long beat before glancing back at Sirius, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sirius smirks again, but this time it’s slower, more thoughtful. “Depends,” he says, voice low and conspiratorial. “What are you thinking, Prongs?”

-

“Are you sure this is going to work?” James’s voice wavers just slightly, betraying the flicker of doubt running through him. He leans against the arm of the couch, watching intently as Sirius adjusts a few books on the floor, each one placed at a precise angle, almost too perfect. Sirius is crouched low, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he arranges the trap.

Sirius flashes James a cocky smirk. “Trust me, Prongs. I’ve thought this through. It’s foolproof.” His eyes glint with that familiar spark, the one that always signals trouble.

James doesn’t look convinced, but he sighs and crosses his arms. “If this goes wrong, I’m blaming you, Pads.”

Sirius winks and straightens up, stretching his arms out with exaggerated nonchalance. “If it goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility, mate. But it won’t. Just wait.”

Over in the corner, you’re completely oblivious to the scheming happening just a few feet away. As usual, your nose is buried in a book, the weight of the world in your hands as you try (and fail) to focus on the words before you. Filled with distractions from thoughts that don’t quite settle.

Remus, unaware of the trap laid before him, strides across the common room, deep in thought. His shoes strike the stone floor with a rhythmic clomp, a sound you’ve grown used to. But this time, it’s louder, as though fate has already decided he’ll make this entrance one for the books. His gaze is fixed ahead, oblivious to the strategically placed book in his path, waiting to trip him up.

Time seems to stretch as Remus’s foot catches the edge of the book, his body pitching forward. For a split second, everything is suspended in midair. His arms flailing in a desperate attempt to catch balance, and then the inevitable happens.

With an almost comical force, Remus stumbles right into you, knocking you back with the unexpected impact. You gasp, breathless, the force of his sudden weight landing in your lap. It’s like the entire room has frozen. Your eyes widen as you look up, heart racing with both surprise and sheer embarrassment.

Remus’s face turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He scrambles to get off you, muttering apologies at a rapid-fire pace. “Oh my Merlin, I—sorry! Sorry! I didn’t—” His hands dart about awkwardly, unsure of where to place them, like he might somehow make the situation worse. His gaze is averted, skipping frantically around the room, and finally, in a move that only adds to the embarrassment, he shuffles a few inches away and slumps down beside you, burying his face in his hands in utter mortification.

You, too, are a mess. Desperately wanting to say something, anything, but the words are trapped somewhere in your throat. You look anywhere but at him, at the way his messy hair falls over his forehead or the soft brown of his eyes. It’s impossible to avoid the feeling that the universe is conspiring against you as you twist your jumper hem between your fingers for something, anything, to do with your hands. The silence is deafening, thick with the weight of unspoken apologies and shared embarrassment.

James and Sirius, from across the room, have already collapsed into the nearest armchairs, practically choking on laughter as they watch the disaster unfold.

“Well, that was a disaster,” James mutters under his breath, rubbing his face with both hands. “What happened to the romantic part of the plan, Pads?”

Sirius is doing his best to hold it together, but he’s failing miserably. His shoulders shake with barely contained laughter, though it settles as he takes in the words. “Well it looked bloody romantic in that film, prongs. Not my fault moony is a fucking oaf,” he groans.

Remus is still frozen, staring at the floor as though it might swallow him whole. He hasn’t looked up, not even once. His embarrassment is palpable, radiating off him in waves. You, on the other hand, are fidgeting so violently that it’s a wonder your jumper isn’t a tangled mess by now.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, Remus lets out a breath and speaks, his voice tight with discomfort. “Are you—um—okay?” His words come out in a hesitant stutter, as if he’s testing the waters before he sinks any deeper. He risks a glance at you, but his eyes immediately flick back down to his hands, his voice cracking with embarrassment. “Sorry again. I really didn’t mean to—”

You shake your head frantically, a flush spreading over you. “I—I’m fine,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just... surprised me.”

Remus shifts uncomfortably beside you, his hands running nervously through his hair as he tries to relieve his awkwardness. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene... I’ll just—” He starts to rise, clearly planning to escape the awkwardness before it swallows him whole.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice small and strained, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

-

“Okay,” Sirius drawls, arms crossed as he leans back in an armchair, one eyebrow cocked. “You sure you’ve thought this one through, lover boy?”

James huffs, balancing two mugs of tea precariously in his hands while eyeing the worn, squishy couch near the fireplace. “This isn’t a bloody trap like yours, Pads,” he mutters, “It’s tea. It’s normal. It’s gentle. It’s what normal people do when they’re not trying to orchestrate the demise of moony.”

Sirius snorts, clearly unimpressed. “And your genius plan is what, exactly? Ply them with chamomile until they fall into each other’s arms?”

James sets the mugs down on the coffee table with exaggerated care, glancing over his shoulder to make sure neither Remus nor you have noticed anything amiss. “No,” he says, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle in his jumper. “The plan is to give them five minutes alone by the fire. Quiet, warm, relaxed. Maybe they talk, maybe someone smiles—hell, maybe someone blushes, Pads.”

Sirius clutches his heart mockingly. “Romance and tea? How Evans hasn’t snapped you up yet, I’ll never know.” he whispers, sarcastically.

But James ignores him, walking toward Remus, who’s nose-deep in a tattered copy of Wuthering heights. “Oi, Moony,” he calls casually. “Come sit by the fire for a bit, yeah? Brought you tea. The good kind.”

Remus looks up, eyes narrowing, skeptical. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” James insists. “Can’t a man just care for his friend? You look like a corpse. You need tea.”

Remus snorts but rises anyway, stretching as he walks toward the couch. James waves him over, then slips off to the other end of the common room with a wink at Sirius, who is now trying not to look like he’s watching intently from behind a rogue transfiguration textbook.

You're already curled up at one end of the couch, a dog-eared paperback open in your lap, thumb nervously tracing the edge of the page. You glance up when Remus sits at the opposite end, a bit stiff, clutching the steaming mug with both hands like a lifeline.

“Hi,” he says after a pause, voice low and careful. His eyes don’t quite meet yours.

“Hi.” You smile, small, unsure, and drop your gaze.

The fire crackles. The silence between you two feels gentler this time, less like a vacuum and more like a space waiting to be filled. You peek at him from the corner of your eye, noting how his hair falls just-so over his forehead, how his fingers tap an absent rhythm against the ceramic of the mug.

Remus clears his throat and shifts a little closer, barely noticeable, but you do.

“You, um… like that book?” he asks, nodding toward the one in your hands.

Your smile returns, small but real. “Yeah. It’s kind of slow, but… nice.”

He nods, encouraged. “Sometimes nice is better than exciting.”

A breathy laugh escapes you, surprised. “I’d say so.”

There’s a flicker of something like confidence in his eyes as he holds your gaze just a moment longer than usual. His shoulder inches closer still, his voice a little warmer now. “I could lend you one, if you want. Something slower. But not boring.”

“I’d like that,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but it’s the most certain thing you’ve said all day.

And for a moment, just a moment—there’s a softness between you, a glowing hush wrapped in firelight and chamomile steam. He’s looking at you like maybe he understands you, and you’re looking at him like maybe that’s okay.

From across the room, Sirius leans toward James and mutters, “Fucking hell.”

James just grins smugly, arms folded. “Told you. No tripping required.”

But just as the moment settles, as Remus opens his mouth to maybe, maybe, say something more, you glance at the clock above the mantel and visibly stiffen.

“Oh—I have to go. I’ve got the… the thing. For Transfiguration.”

You’re already collecting your book and mumbling apologies before he can respond, a heat blooming like wildfire climbing your neck. Remus stands halfway, as if to follow or say something; he doesn’t.

The silence you leave behind is tangible. Remus drops back onto the couch with a long sigh, fingers curling around the warm mug once again.

James claps Sirius on the shoulder. “Almost, mate. Almost.”

Sirius huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “It has to be next time, I can’t go on like this any longer.”

-

The next few days pass in a strange, quiet limbo.

Remus avoids your eyes like they burn. You dodge his like they might catch you saying too much. Something cracked on that couch—small, but sharp. And tea, apparently, couldn’t fix it. Sirius delights in poking the wound. James, more subtle, keeps giving Remus pointed looks like he’s waiting for a confession. He never gets one.

But he does get an idea.

It starts with a note, tucked between the pages of your Advanced Defensive Spells textbook, just as you’re packing up in the common room. The handwriting is messy, but unmistakably meant to be Remus’:

Meet me in the library after dinner? Bring your notes. – R

Your heart stumbles in your chest. It’s short. Simple. But the way your fingers tighten around the parchment says everything it needs to.

-

By the time you make it to the library, the sun has dipped low, and the tall arched windows cast golden shadows that stretch like reaching fingers across the stone floor. The scent of old pages and polished wood settles around you. Picking a table in the far back, quiet, tucked behind a barricade of dust-laced bookshelves, you unpack your notes with hands that won't quite stop shaking.

Remus shows up exactly three minutes later, arms full; parchment, quill, a plethora of battered books. He looks like he’s braced himself for something, an ambush, maybe, or worse, a conversation. But when he spots you already seated, head bowed over your textbook, he clears his throat and slides into the seat beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” he says, softly.

You glance up. Your heart does that stupid flutter again, like it hasn't learned its lesson. “Hey.”

And then… silence.

You both read. Or pretend to. Every turn of the page feels loud, like it echoes between the bookshelves. You sneak glances at him when you’re sure he isn’t looking. He does the same, though less successfully—once your eyes meet for half a second too long, and you both dart back to your notes like they’ve become ancient relics demanding total concentration.

Two aisles over, James and Sirius are crammed behind a bookshelf, wedged between Theories in Transfiguration, Vol. VI and a truly enormous tome on magical law reform. Sirius is lying flat on the floor, chin propped in his hand. James crouches awkwardly behind him, squinting through the slats.

“They’re not even talking,” James whispers, scandalized.

“They’re studying,” Sirius hisses. “In silence. Like psychopaths. I told you we should’ve gone with the spilled ink plan.”

“You wanted to accidentally spill ink on her essay?”

“Disaster leads to bonding!” Sirius insists. “It’s science!”

“We've proved that it doesn't! I think they might deserve to bloody pine after each other forever.”

-

Remus shifts beside you, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he scans the parchment in front of him. His quill taps an uneven rhythm against the tabletop, a quiet metronome to the silence that’s settled between you. The library around you hums with the soft rustle of pages and the occasional muffled cough, but it all fades beneath the weight of his hesitation.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks, his voice low and cautious, but touched with that familiar, curious tilt that always sends a flutter straight through your chest.

“I’m not complaining,” he says, “but… why did you ask me to study with you? You usually study with Lily, don’t you?”

You blink, caught completely off guard. “What? I—Remus, you invited me.”

His head turns slowly toward you, confusion creasing his brow. “No, I didn’t.”

Your heart stutters. Something cold and strange prickles at the base of your spine. You reach into your bag, fingers curling around the folded parchment you’ve been carrying all evening, too nervous to hand over, too unsure of its meaning. You slide it across the table, letting the edges brush his fingertips. “This. I found it in my book. Before dinner. It’s your handwriting.”

Remus stares at the note. His mouth parts slightly, eyes narrowing as he squints at the familiar scrawl. He doesn’t touch it right away, just stares at it like it might suddenly change. Then, moving slowly, almost reluctantly, he reaches into his own satchel. His hand emerges clutching a nearly identical piece of parchment.

You stare.

He stares.

There’s a long, charged pause. Then you both move at the same time, him turning his note toward you, and you leaning forward to read it. The words are unmistakable:

Meet me in the library after dinner? Bring your notes. – Y/N

Your mouth goes dry.

The silence that follows is total, a suspended moment thick with realization. Then, as if on cue, your gazes snap to each other, eyes wide, the truth dawning between you.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

“Those bastards,” Remus mutters, voice low and vibrating with disbelief. His ears are red, burning with equal parts rage and something else—something closer to hope, quickly doused. He stares at the parchment like it might suddenly start laughing at him. His mouth opens, shuts, opens again, as if he’s caught in a fierce internal war.

“I’m going to kill them,” he mutters, not looking at you, fists clenched around the parchment like it personally wronged him. “I swear I’m going to hex them into next week. I’m so sorry. James and Sirius are convinced that—”

“They’re right,” you interrupt, voice soft but steady, slicing clean through his rising spiral.

Remus freezes.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. You can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, burning into you like sunlight through glass.

Your hands twist together in your lap, fingers tangling in your sleeves. Your voice is quieter now, barely more than a whisper. “They were right. The other night… I heard what you said.”

A beat of silence. He doesn’t breathe.

“You heard that?” he says finally, voice hoarse, like it hurts to ask

You nod, still not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to overhear. I’d forgotten my quill and came back down. But it’s fine.” You force a small, brittle smile. “Don’t worry about it. I know you don’t… feel that way about me.”

The look that crosses Remus’s face is devastating.

His mouth parts again; shocked, wounded and for a moment, he just sits there, stunned and pale, like the world’s dropped out from under him. Then the words burst out, rushed and raw.

“I was lying when I said I didn't–that it would never happen.”

You blink.

Remus swallows hard, dragging a shaky hand through his hair, which only makes it stand on end. “I panicked. I didn’t mean a single word of it. I just—” He groans and buries his face in his hands, fingers curled against his temples. “I thought if I denied it, I could kill the feeling. Control it. I didn’t think you could ever… possibly feel the same.”

You stare at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your ribs.

He lifts his head, looking directly at you now, eyes full of something desperate and unguarded. “You barely talk to anyone,” he says quietly. “But when you talk to me, it’s like… it’s like I’m hearing for the first time. And it kills me. That I can’t stop staring. Or thinking. Or wanting—”

He cuts himself off, lips pressed together, eyes still locked on yours like he's trying to memorize the exact way you're looking at him right now.

Your voice is barely audible. “You don’t have to stop.”

Remus freezes again. His brow furrows, as if he thinks maybe he’s misheard. “What?”

You meet his eyes, finally, fully, and it takes everything in you to hold steady, but you do. “Staring. Thinking. Wanting. You don’t have to stop.”

And just like that, the dam breaks.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a month. Something in his posture shifts, his shoulders relaxing, the tension in his jaw unclenching. He leans forward across the table, hands still fisted around the note, but looser now, like he’s letting go of something heavy.

“Y/N,” he says softly, your name like a secret he’s been aching to speak aloud. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t want to scare you off. You’re… you’re shy, and I’m…”

“You’re safe,” you interrupt, a tremble in your voice, but the words are clear. “That’s why it scared me. Because I didn’t want to lose that.”

Remus’s eyes go glassy for half a second, like something just cracked open inside him. Then, with slow, careful movements, he reaches across the table and lays his hand, palm-up, beside your notebook. Not demanding. Not pushing. Just there.

An offering.

You stare at it. Your hand twitches.

And then you take it.

His fingers wrap around yours, warm and steady and so gentle you feel like you might come undone from the sheer kindness of it.

From the aisle across the way, a very muffled, triumphant whisper breaks the moment: “I told you! I bloody told you!”

You both whip your heads toward the sound.

There’s a thud. A loud shhh! And then a frantic scuffling of robes and shoe soles.

Remus sighs, but he’s smiling now, really smiling, soft and tired and happy. You’re still holding his hand. He hasn’t let go.

He doesn’t plan to.

“Next time,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling, “we leave them in the library and sneak ourselves somewhere quiet.”

You laugh, surprised and breathless, your forehead falling forward against your joined hands. “Deal.”

-

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in Gryffindor Tower, the common room awash in the soft gold of late-winter sunlight. You’re curled up on the windowsill with feet tucked under Remus’ thigh, your head resting against his shoulder. He’s reading, half reading, really, because every few minutes you say something, or shift closer, or just smile at him, and it ruins his concentration completely.

Not that he’s complaining.

Across the room, Sirius and James are playing chess. Sort of. Mostly, they’re watching you and Remus over the tops of their pieces, poorly concealed amusement flickering between them like a game of its own

James nudges a pawn forward without looking. “He’s smiling again.”

Sirius doesn’t even glance up. “He’s always smiling now.”

James leans back in his chair with a theatrical sigh. “Remember when he used to brood by the fire and sigh over his homework?”

“I do,” Sirius says wistfully. “It was like living with a moody Victorian ghost.”

“He had that haunted look.”

“And now,” Sirius says, gesturing vaguely toward the couch with a chess piece, “this.”

“Baby’s all grown up,” James laments, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Disgusting.” he deadpans.

“You’re just bitter because Lily only just agreed to sit next to you in Potions again.”

James turns, affronted. “She leaned over to ask for my notes last week, Padfoot. It was a turning point.”

Sirius just hums, clearly not buying it, before casting another smug glance at Remus and you.

“Still,” he says, “we were right.”

James grins. “Painfully right.”

Sirius nods solemnly. “They’d still be dancing around each other if we hadn’t stepped in.”

Remus glances up from his book, catching the last bit. He raises an eyebrow. “Are you two talking about your own brilliance again?”

Sirius doesn’t miss a beat. “We’re just saying, without us, you’d still be sending each other tortured glances from opposite sides of the common room.”

You lift your head from Remus’s shoulder, hiding a smile. “We probably would.”

Remus looks at you, a little startled, then softens. “Maybe.”

Sirius gasps. “You admit it?”

James pounds the arm of the chair like he’s won a bet. “Finally.”

Remus sighs, and it’s the long, fond sigh of someone who knows better than to fight it. “Fine. You were right.”

Sirius clutches his chest. “Say it again.”

“I won’t.”

James winks at you. “Don’t worry. He’ll say it eventually. Usually after you leave the room.”

Remus throws a cushion at him, and James ducks with a laugh.

You nudge Remus gently, still looking over at the two boys, and he turns to you, instantly softening again when he sees your face.

“You were right,” you agree. “Even if you’re unbearable about it.”

masterlist <3

[chuluoyi]

✎ sick days

- gojo satoru x reader

who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!

genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs

note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.

With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.

“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”

Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.

His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”

Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”

As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.

Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.

“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”

When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.

And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.

"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.

As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."

"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.

Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"

But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.

Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.

Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.

“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.

“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”

“Fwah!”

“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”

Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.

“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”

Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.

Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.

“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”

“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.

“Why are you so against me?!”

After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.

Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.

“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”

Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.

And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.

Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.

“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”

“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”

Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”

“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.

“Don’t spank him!”

“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”

“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”

Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.

And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.

Epilogue

“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”

Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”

You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.

You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”

Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.

“Did he just poo on me?!”

[diz-eaze]

oughhhh... could you pretty pretty please write a little bit about yan wanderer's reaction to realizing his darling is slowly but surely falling for him as well... a good spoonful fluff would also be appreciated if you're able to make it work!!! i lauve hardcore yanderes who are at the same time caring and soft partners </3

; soft yandere, drabble, modern au, college au, roommates, not proofread. i'm sorry anon i really didn't manage to capture his reaction in detail, i fear.

when sharing a living space with someone else, care is obligatory. it's unspoken, only verbalized through the harmonious split between chores, the shared duties of cooking, and the quiet humming of moving around the apartment. though, the word 'split' is much too generous of a word, with the way your roommate constantly insists on doing more than half of the chores all the time. in the beginning, you had suspected that the roommate you had gotten from the facebook group was a clean freak, obsessed with all things meticulous and proper.

you had been wrong.

his movements when cleaning are clumsy, his cooking leans toward being charred oftentimes, and he always mixes up the colored fabrics with the white ones. for quite some time, this disparity left you perplexed. why bother insisting when he can't even execute the chores properly in the first place?

you decided you had had enough when your favorite white t-shirt ended up being a mix of pink and red.

you trudge towards his elusive room, standing in front of his locked door. you only got to knock once before the door swings open with a loud bang, scaramouche stares at you with a look you can't quite place as he asks the purpose of your visit. with a sigh, you mindlessly reach out to wrap your arm around his slender wrist - the physical contact leaves him flinching.

"come with me," you urge, not thinking much of his reaction. you guide him outside his room and into the hallway that leads to the washroom.

"wah- why?" he sputters, gaze burning holes into your fingers.

"if you're so insistent on doing the laundry each and every time, then at least let me teach you how to do it properly," you sigh out, voice exasperated yet tinged with an undeniable softness. perhaps you should have been more annoyed at him for ruining some of your clothes because of his inadequacy, yet you can't deny that you appreciate the fact that he cares.

care is obligatory. but to care to this extent... is not.

you spent the entire evening drilling into his stubborn, indigo-head the rundown of doing the laundry. amidst the strange flush in his cheeks and the sudden, shy behavior he sometimes exhibits, you come to learn more about your roommate. you even delve into letting him allow you to create breakfast - charred toast and overcooked rice can only last you so long, after all.

still, he insists on cleaning and laundry duty no matter how much you bargained.

as you finish putting in the last batch of dirty laundry into the washing machine, you realize that there are many things you wonder about scaramouche. for one, why bother living with someone else when his life, that you've seen through cracks and glimpses, is of him coming from a wealthy background?

you truly don't understand him at times. well, most times.

the two of you retire to your respective rooms. scaramouche lingers around the entrance of his room, and when you send him an inquisitive glance, he utters out a hasty 'goodnight!' before slamming the door shut in your face.

you blink in disbelief before walking back to your own room. when you shut the door close is only then did you realize something. without your knowledge, it seems that a smile had long bloomed upon your face. you don't know when it got here, but suspect it had long been present.

the following morning, scaramouche wakes up to the smell of freshly cooked rice and perfectly browned chicken thighs. he nearly bashes his head into the wall in elation when he sees you waiting patiently for him. In between passing each other chopsticks and plates of food, scaramouche doesn't miss the way you now view him with a profound softness that differs from the day before.

he excuses himself into the bathroom to jump around in utmost joy once it sinks into his mind. while he may not be the best helper around the apartment, he certainly knows how to capture his beloved's heart in the most boyfailure way possible.

[moonstruckme]

Hiiii I don’t know if you are taking requests….but if you are I have a slightly odd one of you don’t mind.

I was just rewatching the hunger games and idk if you have read or seen the book/movies but I was wondering if you could do any of the marauders x reader in a sort of hunger games AU?

Okay hear me out… it’s like the cave scene in the first movie, one of the marauders (your choice) is injured and the reader finds them and tries to help them and it’s angsty with hurt/comfort and confessed feelings and the reader is like “I need to go get medicine for you” and the marauder is like “no I don’t want you to risk your life for me”

Anyways just a silly little idea bc I love your writing smmm

<3333

Babe calling this idea "silly" is absolutely absurd of you haha, thanks for the request <3

cw: disabled Remus, typical thg universe angst, imaginings of death

tribute!Remus x tribute!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Since Remus’ name was drawn at the reaping, he’s known he was going to die. He can’t run fast or far. He’s no good for throwing spears or swinging an axe or really wielding anything that requires him to use both hands. He doesn’t have the charisma or good looks to win sympathy from sponsors. His best bet was always to survive on the vegetation in the arena for as long as he could and then curl up in some hidden place like a sick cat to die. 

But you. Lovely, generous, softhearted you. You just won’t let it happen. 

Your cave is damp. Dirt clings to Remus’ clothes and the air tastes of mildew. Every now and again, a drop of water will fall somewhere to his left, making an echoey plopping sound in some unseen puddle. It’s the loudest noise that’s passed through the cave for nearly an hour. Maybe it’s that taut silence that makes Remus’ voice come out so soft. 

“You’re not really thinking of going.” 

“I’m not?” you hum, noncommittal. 

“No. You’re too smart for that.” He watches your face carefully. You’re looking down at your hands, practicing knots on a bit of rope, but at his words your brow tenses. Remus says gently, “You know it’d be a fool’s errand, and you’re not a fool.” 

Your eyes flicker up to his. Dark in the low light of the cave, though it’s daytime outside. They’re Remus’ favorite color. “It doesn’t seem foolish to me.” 

“It is,” he practically pleads. “It is.” 

“Remus.” Your expression is resolute. “You need medicine.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You do.” 

“It won’t matter.” His right leg is as fucked as it’s always been. Remus wasn’t allowed his cane in the arena, though it hardly mattered; even when he found a good stick to use as a substitute, he was never going to be as fast or as lethal as the other tributes. The throwing knife that sliced through his left thigh seemed almost a cruel joke of fate. Now he truly is useless. “I’m no good to you.” 

“Yes, you are,” you insist stubbornly. You tug at the knot you’ve made, tossing the rope away from you.

“Sweetheart,” he gentles his tone, “I’m not. This is nothing to give your life for.” 

“What about yours?” 

Remus gnaws the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know how to tell you what he’s known for weeks; that he was never going to make it out of here. That he was never driven by survival, only a half-desperate hope to distract the careers well enough to keep you safe. Now, your safety relies on him in a different, much more frightening way. 

You move closer to him. Your hand twitches as if on instinct toward the torn-up shirt bandaging his leg, seemingly forgetting for a moment that you checked on the wound only a couple hours before. 

“If they have medicine there,” you say, your voice gone quiet, “it could save you.” 

“That’s a lot of ifs.” Remus looks at you imploringly. “If they have medicine, and if you’re able to get it back here, and if it works, I still won’t be any use to you.” 

“Would you stop saying that?” You sound pained. “I don’t care about how useful you are. You’re not a tool.” 

“Y/n, these are the games,” he says. “Please, listen to me. I’m the worst ally in this arena. You need someone who can protect you. Or if not that, at least someone who can watch your back and keep up with you. I can’t do any of those things.” 

“I don’t need you to.” Your hand lays over his on the cold stone floor of your little home. Remus thinks he might be trembling. He loves you so hopelessly it twinges like a stitch in his side when he breathes. Your next words come out in a whisper. “They said tributes from the same district can win together. All I need is for you to stay alive.” 

Remus shakes his head. It hurts him to make you so solemn, but he needs you to understand. “That rule won’t do us any good if you die first.” 

“I won’t.” You sound surer of yourself than Remus thinks can possibly be true. “I’ll go tomorrow, at night—” 

“The careers will be waiting.” 

“—and I’ll make some sort of distraction somewhere else to be sure they’re not around. It’ll be quick.” 

“You can’t know that will work.” Remus’ voice scratches against the emotion welling in his throat. “They could leave someone behind to keep watch, or they might not go at all.” 

You’re resolute. “It’s our best bet.” 

“Our best bet is for you to stay here.” He’s definitely trembling now. He doesn’t care. You can chalk his shining eyes up to the fever or whatever you wish, all that matters is that he convinces you. “Please, y/n. Please. I’m asking you not to do this. Not for me. It isn’t worth it.” 

“It’s not just for you.” Your fingers tighten over his hand. In the dark of the cave, some of your fear finally shines through. “It’s worth it to me. I need you to be okay. And I’m—I’m sorry if you want to die peacefully, but I can’t just watch it happen.” 

Remus shakes his head. His thoughts won’t stop running a feverish, horrific loop—your terrified, panting breaths as you sprint away with the careers on your heels; you not returning by the nightfall, and Remus crawling outside to watch your picture project across the false sky; your mutilated corpse being scooped up by a hovercraft’s unfeeling claws, a vial of useless medicine falling from your pack to lie on the forest floor. 

“I can’t help you,” he says. “You can’t go. I won’t do you any good.” 

“Remus.” You say his name like your throat tightens around it. Like a wish, or an ache. “I can’t do this without you. Okay? I won’t make it. I need you.” 

Remus feels like his chest is cracking open. “Why?” 

“Because I do,” you say, and now it’s you who sounds pleading. “I just do.” 

You’re both silent for a heartbeat, one that feels too heavy in Remus’ chest. And he finally understands. Maybe it’s something he’s known for a while, only he hasn’t wanted to know. Because it’s so, so much easier to think that he could just die here, with this awful, twinging, unrequited love for you, and you could simply go on. It’s worse if you both have to weather the ache. 

“I need you more,” Remus tells you selfishly. 

“It’ll be okay.” You lean against his side, letting his head rest on your shoulder and combing your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “I’ll come back, and we’ll get you all healed up, and then we’ll get out of here together, yeah?” 

Remus has about a thousand and one objections to that. The first being that he’s simply never letting you leave this cave until the packs of supplies are surely gone and you need to go out again to find food. Whatever you think, his life isn’t worth you risking yours. He’ll restrain you if he has to, or threaten to crawl out of the cave and shout until somebody comes to kill him and your fruitless mission is truly for naught, or do whatever he has to to keep you from letting your tender heart get you killed. 

But for tonight, you’re still safe. He can indulge you in your sweet fantasy. So Remus only utters a soft, “Yeah,” waits for your breaths to even out, and goes to sleep. 

[alwayzadorbs]

Feeling faint?

Summary: The Devildom is no place for humans, aside from being riddled with bloodthirsty demons who crave your soul. There is no such thing as the sun in the Devildom; inky darkness paints the sky, and the moon is the only constant. Naturally, you don't receive the proper nutrients you would get from the sun, no matter how infrequently you went outside in the human realm; it pales in comparison to the Devildom. Alongside that, Devildom cuisine is quite different than Human world cuisine; many of the foods here can easily kill you, and they do not give you the required balance. And when your body is starved of its essential nutrients, it begins to shut down.

Pairing: Lucifer x GN! reader

Rating: fluff, romance, 15+

Warnings: Talk of not eating enough, malnourishment, and health complications. Fainting. May be triggering.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling extremely run down over the past few weeks. It only seemed to get worse; your skin didn't look as vibrant and bore a somewhat pale complexion, no matter how much you slept, you couldn't seem to get enough rest. You'd find yourself thinking about human food more often, craving foods you normally didn't enjoy. Things high in salt intake, red meats, high protein foods. Your grip strength started getting weaker too, and you started losing a bit of weight; in general, you weren't doing so hot.

That morning, you had been getting ready to go to school, and you noticed an abnormal amount of hair just falling out. You sat there for a moment, unable to put it together. You had never paid much attention to taking your vitamins or making a point of eating healthily. You didn't have time to deal with it, so you carried on. You started to undress to put on your uniform when you noticed a difference in the mirror, observing your body and lightly pinching some loose skin.

"Have I lost a few pounds?"

At breakfast, you prodded at the food on your plate, attempting to find an appetite. You just weren't used to the odd shapes of Devildom foods, their coloring was offputting, and sometimes the smells imminating from the dish was anything but appetizing. By all means, you were hungry. but you couldn't bring yourself to swallow, nasuea building up in you. It's not always like this; there are some foods that you do genuinely enjoy, but some of them you aren't able to stomach, even with your already limited palette. Devildom food just isn't for humans; Many of the foods are poisonous to humans, and ridiculously enough, some of them are cursed.

"Not hungry? I'll eat it if you're not gonna." Beel leaned over, looking at you with pleading eyes

"Sure, why not?" you said, sliding your dish towards him.

His eyes lit up when you said yes, it made you happy to see the brothers happy, it warmed your heart. You couldn't help but compare Beel to a happy puppy when he smiled, and that smile was infectious.

You stared at the moon; It never left the sky. It held unique coloring, managing to have blue and yellow undertones while being a crisp, dirty white hue. When you stopped to think about it, it really did look like it was made of cheese. You could stare up at the moon all day; its enchanting qualities drew you in deeper every time you saw it.

"Helllloooo?? Mc? HEYYY im talkin' to ya!" A familiar voice snapped you back to reality

"Huh...? oh, uh... Sorry, Mammon i didn't hear you. Say again?" You said somewhat groggily, your voice sounding raspy.

"Geez, like, whats wrong with ya' lately? I asked ya' if ya wanted ta skip 1st period and play hooky with me, whatdya' say?!" Mammon beamed, intertwining his fingers with each other to support the back of his head while he walked.

"Mammon. dont even THINK about it." Lucifer sighed, narrowing his eyebrows.

Your legs started feeling a bit weak as you walked along, and it felt like your head was tingling a bit. Your face twisted into a look of discomfort, just subtle enough for no one, including you, to notice.

"Come on! You're no fun, Lucifer!" Mammon frowned, walking ahead of the group.

Breathing felt just a bit harder, a small amount of resistance in your chest as your lungs expanded. You tried to ignore it, brushing it off as allergies or a lack of sleep.

"You idiot, I mean, what did you expect? You said that right in front of Lucifer." Satan smiled, rudely remarking.

You focused on breathing deeply. You weren't even at school yet, but you felt like you needed the day off. The laughs and bickering of the brothers faded into the background as your focus lingered on feeling better.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sitting at your desk as the bell rang, you sigh in relief. You made it through the day; now, all you had to do was make it home.

Ding

You reached into your pockets, pulling out your D.D.D. to see who was messaging you. The bluelight of the screen strains your eyes

Lucifer:

Mc, I need extra help with Student council duties, and my brothers happen to be utterly incompetent.

Meet me in the student council room immediately.

You sighed before standing up and getting ready to tough out an extra hour of work at R.A.D. You gathered your items and walked through the halls, admiring the many portraits and paintings lining the walls.

When you arrived in the correct area, you opened the door. You weren't exactly thrilled to see the mountains of paperwork and forms on the desk; Lucifer was already hard at work.

"Hey, you need my help, Lucifer?" You rubbed your eyes, sitting down next to him

"Yes, I can't seem to break this constant stream of paperwork." He smiled. "It's quite helpful to have a capable asset around here. Thank you." he reached towards one of the multiple stacks of paperwork, sliding it towards you.

"I need you to review the expenses in the student council budget. It seems that there are a large number of unnecessary fines; Perhaps Mammon edited some things..."

"Alright, I think I can handle that. Is it always like this? you know, piles of paperwork building walls around you?" you asked, looking down at the numbers on the sheet, they jumbled in your mind.

"Mmm, unfortunately, yes. Thankfully, since you've picked up the slack my brothers won't, I'm not as swamped. This influx of paperwork has to do with an upcoming school event. Diavolo is looking forward to throwing an 'extravaganza' as he put it." He paused for a moment. "I suppose it worked out, though."

you looked up, "hm? how so?"

"Because I get to spend time with you without worrying about problem after problem. I value every second with you, even if we're doing all this paperwork."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head.

"I'm so glad we're done!" you yawned, sitting up. "Still can't believe you do this every day, Lucifer."

You both exited the building, leisurely walking along the trail towards home. "Me neither," he chuckled.

That tingly feeling hadn't left you; You felt resistance as your lungs expanded, and your knees felt weak with every step. You matched Lucifer's pace, trying to power through it once more.

You observed your surroundings, noting the flowers and how the color seemed to saturate the longer you looked. Blinking for a moment, you tried to readjust your vision when everything started to get blurry.

"Are you okay?" Or at least thats what you thought you heard; you just couldn't quite piece together the words. "Hey, Mc."

Darkness starts to creep in, and you feel lightheaded; your knees begin to give way. You start to stumble, you think you feel yourself falling but you cant see, its all dark.

"Mc!" was that a voice? maybe. It sounded more like buzzing to you. You drifted into unconsciousness.

Lucifer would catch you, of course. He had noticed that you looked a bit 'under the weather', but he would have no idea of the extent. He understood that Humans were very fragile creatures, but he couldn't understand why you just collapsed. He had a hard time not panicking; he didn't know very much about humans, and this was HIS human. He didn't waste time securing you and calling Solomon with his D.D.D.

He wouldn't admit it, but Lucifer was scared. He didn't know what was wrong with you or if you'd be okay. He but on a front, not just for his brothers who were definitely paniced aswell, but for himself. He needed to cling to something to be calm, and he's too prideful to let it show. You were the only person he was able to really unwind around, act in ways that would usually hurt his pride. He enjoyed being able to act that way with you. Even more, he loved you and didn't want you to leave him.

When he eventually learned that the root cause of your state was simply a lack of vitamins, he felt a bit dumb but was relieved nonetheless. You'd wake up a short amount of time later, surrounded by the brothers, the angels, and Solomon.

You blinked, groggily asking, "Um...Why are you all standing at my bedside...?"

"You don't remember?" Asmo said, looking concerned

"You fainted earlier. I gave you a checkup, and it looks like you're severely lacking in some of the essential vitamins. It looks like the big ones are vitamin D and Iron deficiency, which is why you fainted." Solomon explained

"Wait, really?! I fainted?!" you blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed of all the attention.

"Yeah, sorry, I can't help but feel this is [racially my fault for not informing you to take supplements while here. It's easy to forget something like that, so I don't blame you." he smiled

"I brought you some basic supplements. let me know when you run out; please don't forget to take them, we wouldn't wnt you fainting again."

You looked around the room, locking eyes with the man who carried you towards the house of lamentation. Noting his focus, he was studying you.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Later, you lay in your bed, still feeling quite terrible. A knock interrupted your thoughts, pulling you away from your la-la land.

"It's me, Lucifer. May I come in?"

"Yeah, come on in," you said, turning to see who was going to enter.

"Are you feeling any better, Mc?" Lucifer said, softly shutting the door behind him

"I still feel pretty crappy, sorry for making you carry me earlier," you said.

He sat on the mattress, "You say that as if it were a burden. I'm glad I was the one to catch you." he smirked, knowing what he does to you.

you felt your face heat up. "Thank you, Lucifer."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked, reaching his hand to fix a stray strand of your hair that fell out of place near your bangs. "Can I get you water? Are you thirsty?"

"That's alright, you don't have to do that. You can just keep me company."

You shifted your position on the bed, scooting over towards the wall. "Will you hold me? I'm tired." You said, reaching your arms towards him.

Lucifer paused before saying, "I suppose, if that'll make you feel better."

He'd embrace you with a firm grip, the scent of his soft cologne infiltrating your nose. He smelled a bit like brandy, a warm scent that lulled you into safety. You practically melted into his touch, not daring to break the moment's bliss by opening your eyes. You shifted toward the bed, pulling Lucifer down with you.

He laughed, freeing his top arm from the hug to stroke your hair. "I'm glad that you're alright," Lucifer uttered.

You opened your eyes, peering into Lucifer's handsome ruby eyes. Youd stare into them often, but this time his face was flush. He seemed to be a bit embarrassed. "Hm? Were you worried about me?"

He looked away for a moment, "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"Spell what out...?" you grinned, hoping to make him say it.

Lucifer scoffed. "Since you want me to say it so badly..." he paused "I was worried. I didn't want to lose you. Because I love you."

"I love you too!" You said, nuzzling your head into his chest

"But you don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay."

"I'll always worry about you, as long as you're my little lamb."

[cmaidaartworkblog]

This video showcases my Blender model of the planet that the Scud aliens call home, the fourth and final world I've mapped out for @jayrockin's "Runaway to the Stars" project. A *lot* of maps were created in service of this final render, and also in service of presenting the special qualities of this planet. I intend to show you as many of these as I can under the cut, and also in subsequent posts focusing on some of the more interstitial, ancillary maps and figures that played a part in producing the primary maps you'll see in this main post.

Before I show the first maps I made for this project, what you see below are the satellite-style maps for the Equinoxes and Solstices, in order of (Northern) Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, the latter serving as the texture for the Blender object you saw in the video.

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With that matter covered, our next focus is this project's foundation: Geology. While I didn't spin as elaborate a tectonic history for this planet as I did for the Ayrum commission, I did work out as much detail as I could for the more recent geological activity, to set the stage for the elevation data - including a narrower focus on the coastal shallows that host the Scud populations.

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Once I could move on to climate, my first step was finding this planet's relative Insolation, which I managed thanks to @reversedumbrella's code and coaching. With an obliquity of only 16 degrees, this planet's yearly maximum Insolation levels stick close to the equator, compared to pole-to-pole oscillation we see on Earth

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Having a rough sense of where heat would concentrate seasonally and how the landmasses would deflect water in light of the planet's retrograde spin, I was able to set down the bi-annual ocean currents (Northern Summer above and Northern Winter below), then the monthly water temperatures pushed around by said currents, and finally -after factoring in many other considerations- the monthly land temperatures as well (combined in the second gif)

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Next came the seasonal air pressure maps and subsequent wind patterns (my first time creating those from scratch), which later factored into the precipitation maps. The incredible temperatures at the largest continent's interior make a desert of most of it, and the other interiors are fairly dry too, but all that heat on the equatorial ocean generates a *lot* of evaporation which ends up coming down elsewhere.

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With temperatures and precipitation mapped out for each month, I was able to find how the accumulation and melt of ice and snow played out, too. Given such a hot equator it's surprising to see freezing temperatures hold out in some places, but low obliquity and high elevation shield what areas they can, it seems.

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All this monthly data was then painstakingly combined and compared and plugged into equations to produce maps of discrete climate zones, using both the Köppen (left) and Trewartha (right) classification systems. The higher latitudes see some overlap with Earth's conditions, but the Tropics...

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I never really finished the map I wanted to make with my own loosely customized classification system, but I *did* get as far as this breakdown of the areas that sometimes surpass 56.7 degrees Celsius, Earth's record for highest surface temperature ever directly measured. And as you can see, that earthly record is broken by a *significant* fraction of this planet's surface, and far exceeded by the equatorial continent's deep interior

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The final phase of this project dealt with creating satellite maps of this planet's surface (which you saw at the top of this post), which started with a map of dry and submerged substrate, then a density map of the vegetation that sits atop it, then the colors of that vegetation under annual average conditions (demonstrating how they would appear in-person, rather than the area's appearance from orbit), and finally plant colors under seasonal conditions (same conceit as previous). In concert with the seasonal ice and snow maps, it was the four maps in the last sequence which were overlaid on the Substrate map, using the plant density map as raster masks, to produce the final Satellite-Style maps.

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This planet's sophonts being a marine species, it was then worth focusing on the conditions underwater, which included monthly seafloor temperatures (first gif), annual discharge of sediment from rivers (magenta in the 2nd gif), and seasonal upwelling of nutrients from deeper water (blue in the 2nd gif).

The creation of all my maps seen in this post was possible thanks to Photopea, which has been my go-to for several years now. The resolution kinda got crunched when I uploaded these here, so when I share them on Reddit later I'll add those links under this. These have also already been posted on Twitter, which you can see here if you like. Thanks for scrolling all the way down here!