#coming to my inbox and saying this to my face like it's nothing

[hederasgarden]

The Sun

Summary: After a difficult fight, Clark needs you. Pairing: David!Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 627 Warning: Mature. Kissing, minor description of blood/injuries and tooth rotting fluff. A/N: This takes place before the events of the movie. There are no spoilers. Thanks to @unearthlys-spam for the inspiration and @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and your sun-dappled apartment is warm and calm, still carrying the intoxicating scent of fresh-baked cookies, even though you devoured them hours ago. Outside, the city hums along, its noise softened to a low murmur beneath the drone of the TV. You feel drowsy, despite the relatively early hour, and glance at your phone. No missed calls. No texts from Clark. Tonight, he’s meeting with the Justice League, and you know how Guy loves to hear himself talk. It would be a late night for him. 

You yawn and stretch before turning toward the kitchen, only to let out a startled cry.

Clark is on your balcony, bloodied and slumped, his shoulders bowed as if the weight of the world is finally too much to bear. Panic grips your chest as you rush to the door, fumbling with the lock before sliding it open and reaching for him. His breath rattles in his chest, thin and sharp like wind slipping through a crack in the wall.

“Clark,” you whisper, horrified. “What happened?”

He glances up, and despite the blood on his temple and the exhaustion in his eyes, the corner of his mouth tugs upward. For a fleeting moment, a dimple appears.

“You should see the other guy,” he says lightly, but his joking tone doesn’t sit right with you. You frown. “I’m fine; we just had an unexpected visitor that packed quite a wallop.”

“Why didn’t you go to the Fortress?” you ask, brushing your fingers gently across a bruise blooming along his cheekbone. “You need to heal.”

He catches your hand in his, warm and trembling, and lifts his other to cradle the side of your face. The look he gives you is raw and aching. But it’s his next words that knock the air right out of your lungs.

“I needed to see you,” he says quietly. “Just… wanted to see you.”

His shoulders sag as he leans in, forehead resting against yours. You reach up, fingers threading through the thick curls at the nape of his neck. Clark exhales a slow, uneven breath and pulls you closer. 

The minutes slip by. He just breathes. Just holds you.

Worry seeps into your bones. “Clark…” you whisper. 

“I feel better already,” he murmurs against your skin, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s not rushed or hungry, but grounding. Reassuring. When you tilt your face and part your lips, he doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss and slips into your warmth.

Eagerly, you guide him back toward the couch with you, and he follows without question, letting you pull him down as you sink into the old, worn leather. Even kneeling on the floor, he’s tall enough to reach you, his lips never leaving yours, his hands steady on your waist.

Kissing Clark is always a revelation, and tonight is no different. Heat pulses through your limbs as your hand glides over his shoulder, feeling for the hidden clasp on his suit. Then a strained sound escapes him that stops you cold. You pull back, heart lurching in alarm.

“You're hurt” you say, your gaze drifting past him to the fading light that signals dusk’s approach. “You need the sun.”

He blinks, then looks at you with a soft smile.

“You’re my sun,” he whispers so earnestly. It’s a line that would sound cheesy from anyone else. But coming from him, it’s the truth, so utterly Clark that you find yourself blinking away unexpected tears. 

“What’s a girl supposed to say to that, huh?” you ask with a watery laugh.

“Nothing,” he replies, pulling you into another kiss. “Just let me love you.”

“I can do that,” you promise. “If you let me take care of you tonight.”

“Alright,” he agrees, kissing you again. “But first, I need a little more time with my sun.”

[e1e4n0r5]

Got a Lil Sugar: Chapter 2

Masterlist, Chapter 1

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Sugar Mommies Cait & Vi x Sugar Baby Reader

Words: 3051

Synopsis: Your first few weeks in your new 'business venture', and you learn it's not as easy as it looks

Warnings: Financial distress, sex work, creeps on the internet, lesbian reader has to flirt with men, degradation on reader

You sat cross-legged on your bed, the glow of your phone screen casting long shadows in the cramped little room. You scrolled through the app’s inbox, your fingers hesitating over each message.

Show me your tits and I’ll make it rain 💵💵💵

Bet you’re a dirty little slut in real life too. $20 for some pussy?

Why would I pay you? I can get better for free on PornSite lmao.

You flinched at that last one. Your stomach twisted with something sour; shame or anger or both. The same hands that were paying your rent were slapping you in the face.

Still, you opened a different thread from earlier that day: a polite, if bland, man had sent $50 for a voice note. “Just moan for me, baby.” You’d locked yourself in a private bathroom at work and recorded yourself whispering fake, breathy moans into your phone mic, cheeks blazing hot, stomach twisting.

It felt gross. But the $50 had already been sent to your account.

Thankfully you’d made this month’s rent, but now you had to work towards the higher amount.

When the next message popped up, your stomach dropped:

Bet you swallow. $25 if you say you do. $50 if you prove it.

You tossed the phone down and buried your face in your hands.

Mel slid into the seat across from you, immaculate as always. You tried to smile, but it felt like your lips didn’t quite get there.

“You look like hell,” Mel teased gently, though her eyes softened. “What’s going on?”

You stared into your latte. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mel. People are just…So mean. And disgusting. Like, I get what this job is, I knew it wasn’t going to be sweet old ladies sending me flowers every day, but…”

You trailed off, and Mel reached over, touching your hand.

“But it feels worse when you actually read it?” Mel finished for you.

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “I feel gross. But then I look at my bank account, and my spreadsheet…”

“And you need to keep going,” Mel said softly.

You winced. “That’s the worst part.”

Mel squeezed your hand. “Angel, this is just part of the job. When these people are online, they feel entitled to say anything they want. You decide if their money is worth the words. That’s the power you have. You can block them, ignore them, or keep their cash and laugh all the way to the bank. But don’t let it get under your skin. They’re not real and they’re not worth it.”

You managed a faint smile. “You make it sound easy.”

Mel smirked and sat back. “Oh darling, it’s not easy. But you get tougher, and once you sort the wheat from the chaff, it’ll get easier.”

That Friday night, your tiny apartment was quiet except for the low thump of music coming from a little wireless speaker Mel had gifted you (one of her Daddies had bought her a new one). You stood in the middle of your living room/kitchen in nothing but a matching blue bra and panties set, barefoot, with a bottle of all-purpose cleaner in one hand and your phone set up on a tripod on your table.

The app chimed as you went live.

Hearts and usernames immediately flooded the screen:

There she is

Oh fuck, that set looks good on you.

Goddamn, baby, look at those thighs! Spin for us

Lmfao, her place is such a dump tho

You forced a smile, waving to the camera. “Hi, everyone,” you said brightly, even though your stomach knotted at the last comment. “You’re just in time to help me clean up a little. Let’s have a nice night, okay?”

The chat exploded:

Only if you bend over nice and slow while you dust

I’ll send $5 every time you bend over

Money pinged in as you turned on the music a little louder and started moving around the room.

You’d swept earlier, but you made a show of bending down, slowly wiping the coffee table, arching your back as you reached across it. You kept one ear tuned to the phone: when someone donated $10 and asked you to clean the mirror next – “so we can see those girls jiggle!” – you obeyed, trying to laugh through your discomfort and blowing them a kiss.

The donations kept coming. $50 here. Another $10. Someone sent $20 just to ask you to put your hair up while you worked, which you did with a little twist a clip, strands falling loose around your face.

But the mean ones kept coming too.

You really think you’re hot enough to pull this off?

This chick has no idea what real sugar babies look like lol

Bet her whole place still stinks after this

Your smile stayed fixed. You kept dusting, swaying a little to the beat of the music as you tried to distance yourself from what you were doing, even though your cheeks were burning now and your hands were getting clammy.

You did another spin, slower this time, gently swaying your hips. The cash kept chiming.

By the time you finally signed off, blowing one last kiss to the camera, waving goodnight, you’d made almost $400.

You let yourself sag against the couch when the stream ended, staring at the quiet little room.

Your phone buzzed. A text from Mel:

You did amazing. The mean ones only talk because they’re jealous. You looked gorgeous. Cash out, get some food, and don’t even think about it. You’re working smart.

You smiled faintly and texted back a simple:

Thanks Mel ❤️

You closed the app, pulled on a hoodie, and padded into the kitchen.

The apartment felt dirtier somehow.

Lying in bed, you scrolled again through the inbox. The names blurred together, but you were starting to recognise some.

You saw the same patterns:

You’re a whore, but at least you’re honest about it. Here’s $30, write it on your forehead

$20 for butt without panties

$50 if you bark like a dog

Your bank account was a little healthier. But your heart felt emptier.

Still, you stripped off your sweater, fixed your hair, and completed the requests. You typed out the standard response – Thanks for the tip, enjoy! – and sent them before you could think too hard.

You leant back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The money was helping. But at what cost?

The fluorescent lights of the adult store were somehow harsher than you expected. You kept your head down as the door chimed behind you. The place was quiet – a slow weekday early evening – but even so, you felt the cashier’s eyes follow you as you walked in.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Are you live yet? Mel’s text read.

You swallowed and typed back: Starting now

You opened the app, angled your phone, and hit “Go Live.”

At once the screen filled with little hearts and usernames popping up, numbers climbing higher as more people tuned in. You forced a smile.

“Hey, everyone,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you whispered. “You’re coming shopping with me today.”

About time you gave us some real content, baby

Turn the camera lower, what’s the point if we can’t see those tits?

$10 if you ask the cashier where the freakiest toys are

The chat was a flood – some cruel, some eager, some offering cash in the form of little digital donations that chimed as they landed.

You inhaled through your nose, forced yourself to keep your chin up, and started walking down the nearest aisle.

Shelves gleamed with glass, leather, and silicone in every colour imaginable. You held your phone out at arm’s length, tilting it down just enough to show your breasts in your push-up bra, and your hips as you walked – like they wanted.

Another donation popped up: $20 if you pick up the biggest one you see and show us how it looks in your hand.

Your stomach turned, but you found a scarily wide dildo the length of your forearm, holding it up to the camera with a little nervous laugh.

The chime of money kept coming. $5 here, $10 there.

Someone sent $50 just to tell you to blow a kiss to the camera. You did, cheeks warming, but at least you didn’t have to say anything gross for that one.

As you walked down an aisle, an employee restocking various lubes, a bored-looking man in his 40s, sneered slightly as you passed him. “You gonna buy something with all that attention you’re whoring out for, or just waste everyone’s time?”

Your smile froze, your stomach plummeting. You didn’t stop walking.

The chat, oblivious, continued scrolling:

$15 if you ask him what he thinks would feel best in you

Ignore him, baby girl, just keep shopping

You ignored the man and ducked into another aisle, exhaling shakily once he was out of sight.

$25 sent – get a vibrating plug!

Chime. Chime.

You picked up a slim, vibrating plug, holding it up to the camera with fingers that didn’t quite tremble anymore. Then you picked out a sleek black realistic vibrator.

The donations rolled in.

By the time you left the store, a plain brown bag in hand and what felt like the last of your dignity abandoned, you’d made almost $500 in under an hour.

Your phone buzzed again as you stepped outside. It was Mel:

I knew you could do it, I’m proud of you. Go home, take a bath, and don’t read the chat replay. Just cash the money and move on.

You let yourself smile, just a little, and tucked your phone into your pocket.

You sat in a corner on your break, tucked away in the breakroom with your phone close to your chest.

The message notifications kept lighting up the screen.

Why don’t you just come over and fuck for free like the whore you are?

$25 if you call yourself a stupid slut on video

$10 sent – send pic with ur tongue out like a good little cumdump

Your hands shook as you deleted the first message without responding. But the second and third…You couldn’t quite bring yourself to ignore them completely.

You needed the money.

With the breakroom empty, you opened your camera app, made yourself look soft and willing, stuck out your tongue and snapped a photo. The words you typed to go with it made your stomach knot: Hope Daddy likes it

Another $25 came through: open your mouth wider this time slut

You shoved the phone back in your bag and pressed your palms to your eyes.

Your stomach turned.

But your next rent was coming up.

The next afternoon, you sat across from Mel in a little café, nursing a coffee.

“You’re quiet,” Mel said after a few minutes.

You chewed on your lip. “I blocked eight people yesterday. But I still I sent feet pics to two others. Got another $120.”

Mel nodded slowly, letting you talk.

“And this one guy just messaged me to tell me I wasn’t worth it. Not even money attached. He just said it. And I…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands. “I feel so dirty, Mel. Like I’m playing along because I need the cash but then afterwards I just feel gross.”

Mel reached across and rested her perfectly manicured hand over yours. “That happens to everyone, baby girl,” she said softly.

You blinked. “Everyone?”

Mel smirked, just a little. “Oh yeah. First few weeks are always the worst. You’re learning who to block, who to humour, what you’re okay with. It’s like building calluses. At first everything hurts. But then you figure out what you can handle.”

You swallowed hard. “It just feels like I’m letting them talk to me like I’m nothing. Like I am what they say.”

Mel shook her head firmly. “You’re not. You’re playing a part. They don’t even know you. They’re buying your time. Not your soul. Don’t you forget it.”

You let out a shaky breath.

Mel gave your hand another squeeze. “Block the ones who cross the line. Laugh at the ones who think they can tear you down for free. And cash the cheques, sweetheart. You need this; you don’t need them.”

You sat at the back of the bus, earphones in, a blank look on your face as you scrolled through your inbox.

$40 sent – Show me what your tits look like squeezed together

$75 sent – can you sit on your bathroom counter and spread for me? Another $100 for one without panties!

$50 sent – Baby girl, Mommy wants to hear you moan again. Same rate?

You tapped “accept” on all three. Not even a pause.

When you got home, you didn’t even take your shoes off before dropping your bag, propping your phone against a mug, and peeling off your shirt.

One.

Then two.

Then three.

Send.

You barely looked at your own face in the screen anymore.

Mel eyed you next to her on the park bench. “You’re getting colder,” she remarked, swirling her mocha.

You stared into your own cup. “Easier this way. I don’t feel as much anymore.”

“That’s normal. You’ve already got thicker skin than most girls get in six months,” Mel said, a note of sad pride in her voice.

You gave her a weak smile. “That’s good, right?”

Mel tilted her head. “Good, but dangerous too. Don’t let yourself forget that you’re a person under all that armour. Take a night off if you need to. Block the really nasty ones even if they wave cash at you.”

You knew that wasn't an option for you, but you nodded anyway. “Aren’t there girls who do, like, humiliation stuff? Should I do that?”

Mel shook her head furiously. “Angel, that’s not you. It takes a certain type of person to able to swallow that shit from strangers online all day. Don’t do that to yourself. You’ve got to protect this and this,” she said, tapping your chest lightly then your head.

“But if-?”

Mel shocked you by holding your face, squishing your cheeks a little, and turning your head to look at her. She frowned seriously. “Darling, I will hack your bank account and put money in it myself if I have to. You are not doing that.”

Two nights later, you set up your phone in your bedroom.

This time, you wanted the lighting to be softer, the mood to feel less like a desperate cleaning show and something closer to what you thought this was supposed to be.

You lit a candle on your nightstand, dimmed the lamp, and set the phone on a tripod at the foot of the bed. You wore a silky pale blue robe and matching underwear set underneath, your hair down this time.

Mel had texted you beforehand:

Don’t push yourself too far. You’re in control, not them. End it when you want to.

The words echoed in your mind when you hit the little red “Go Live” button.

The chat was already waiting.

Ohhh she’s in bed tonight??

Holy shit look at her!

Bout time you did something sexy instead of dusting lol

You forced a coy little smile and settled onto the edge of the bed, crossing your legs.

“Hi,” you murmured. “Be nice to me tonight, okay? I’m feeling soft.”

The money started to roll in as you played with the tie of your robe.

$10 here. $25 there. A $50 tip just for lying on your stomach and kicking your legs up behind you.

You swayed to the faint music playing from your speaker, occasionally glancing shyly at the chat.

And then it came.

$200 sent –Fucking take it off already. Stop pretending and just show us something worth looking at

Your hands froze where they’d been smoothing down your robe.

$200.

It sat there in your tip jar on the screen like a challenge. The message stung.

But the numbers on your debt spreadsheet were still there.

You swallowed. Then, slowly, without looking directly at the camera, you slipped the robe fully off your shoulders. The silky fabric pooled behind you. You could feel your cheeks burning already as you sat there in just your bra and panties.

The chat went wild.

Finally!

Holy fuck I love your body

Knew she’d cave. Look at her blush, pretending to be all sweet and innocent

You sat up straighter, acting like you hadn’t read the cruel words. But then your fingers hooked into the strap of your bra.

One side slipped off. Then the other.

And just like that, you unhooked it, pulling it away and dropping it out of frame.

Your breath caught in your chest when you saw yourself on the screen – bare now, arms folded just enough to be modest but still letting them see what they’d paid for.

The chat absolutely exploded. The tip jar chimed again and again, numbers climbing.

You forced a little smile, fluffing up your hair as though nothing had changed.

“Hope that’s worth it,” you murmured softly into the mic, your voice as sweet as you could make it, even though your throat felt tight.

You kept going for another ten minutes, just playing with your hair, lying on your back, chatting lazily with the viewers while the tips trickled in.

When you finally signed off and the screen went dark, you pulled your robe back on, tied it tight, and sat cross-legged on the bed in silence for a moment.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Mel.

I’m really proud of you, angel. Don’t let the assholes get to you. You did great.

You stared at the screen, then typed back: Thanks. Made $700. I feel weird now

That’s normal, you're okay. Take a bath, angel. Be kind to yourself.

You put your phone down on the bed, rubbing your temples as you tried to settle yourself down.

Your phone buzzed again with another message request, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at it. You'd have a bath, eat some food, and get an early night.

If you had looked at your phone, you would have seen the names...

Caitlyn & Violet

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup, @niceminipotato, @fruitfulfashion, @dut1fuldyk3, @youngtastemakerfart, @trinityobsessesovatings, @barmaideneeveewrites, @c1sne, @geminideathrose, @nuianced-tck-enby, @all-things-lilac, @m0ss-gremlin, @notkyleelol, @girlsatourbest, @rainfalls77, @vinvinvin-who, @ispendwaytolongonhere, @lavendercassie54321

[fir-fireweed]

Alright, know I just sent you something recently, and I do value your time and don't want to clutter your inbox. BUT, I just have to comment on a few things that have been plinking around my mind. 1.) Spoilers for chapter 3 optional Calliope scene, So I did very much enjoy getting the option to lean over her and get her flyer for her. It was a very, aww that's so sweet moment. Although, I would have very much enjoyed the option to grasp her by the hips and lift her so she could get it herself. Which I know, is probably a little much for someone you met once years ago, but also she would most likely be totally into it. Well, maybe I'll get that in the future. For some reason I will accept nothing less than the tallest muscular MC for Calliope. Yea, I'm afraid she is totally going to get an Earth Mommy. 2.) So in chapter 1 Tellus crushes and crushes hard for MC. So naturally I'm like, "oh no, I'm a lesbian and he is the best friend crush. This is so awkward, oh no." But then he returns in chapter 3 and I'm, "Welp, just awkward as I thought it would be... more so if I'm being honest." Yea, that's going to be a train wreak... a beautiful train wreak, but a train wreak all the same. 3.) Spoilers for chapter 3 optional Corrinne scene, So I really enjoyed this one as well, and the flirt options were great. And then I decided those two absolutely must cook together. Even if it is only head cannon. Of course in my head cannon, that would be a playful affair with them constantly doing things like flicking flour at each other and using their fingers to wipe cream and things on each other's faces. 4.) I love Vicente, not necessarily as an RO, but definitely as a character. Pretty sure my MC really respects him. At this point she isn't sure if they are going to be allies or enemies, but she hopes for the former rather the latter. Ether way I can totally see them falling into an intense, but friendly rivalry. He is never going to be a RO for my MC but I hope there is a good friendship option with them. 5.) Eva and Nik, I really love these two and have already planned their wedding. Maybe not the best idea, since she has no idea he is into her. oh, and the whole civil wars is about to explode all over the place thing. Still, I mean just look at those two. Also love how Eva really want to be a traditional proper lady, but is really good at the non-"ladylike" stuff like shooting arrows into people. I also think, that despite herself she enjoys it. I can totally see a scene where Nik is like "But I'm the trained soldier here", and she is just like, "Sure, now just do what I say without questioning me." Proceeds to come up with a better plan. Also kind of hopping for a scene where he approaches the MC and proceeds to awkwardly probe for information about Eva. Trying to subtle about it, but failing miserably. Anyway, no need to respond to this or anything. Just some musings and thoughts I wanted to share with you because I wanted you to know I really enjoy your work. Stay healthy and happy. Best Wishes Lilith

Hello again, Lilith! You are not ever cluttering my inbox! I may not respond for days, but I absolutely see and enjoy reading these asks. ☺️

I’m really grateful for rants like this, in particular. There were so many good scenes and tidbits in Chapter 3, but everything was eclipsed by Tellus’s return. I feel like I had more discourse and analysis on the earlier chapters than this one. While I understand the fascination with Tellus (and am ultimately responsible for that, lol), it’s still a little disappointing.

So thank you for pointing out all the things you liked and your thoughts around this chapter! I very much appreciated reading this! ❤️

[canisalbus]

i would like to imagine that after machete dies, vasco starts collecting red things. red, like the soles of machetes shoes and the hems of his cassocks, the front of his nightgowns after a heavy nosebleed. or maybe he collects pink things, like machete's nose and ears and paw pads, or things white like his fur. he never collects anything black, however. red like the hems but never black like the fabric. black is too sad. it's grief, it's unfathomable loss and it means admitting machete is actually gone, stolen from the world. but ludovica is there, and she indulges his collections in little ways on the occasion. it's a small comfort, her love for her husband in their lavender way.

.

[mariasont]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[cowboybeepboop]

Desire

“Anything you want, baby,” he murmurs, his voice strained with desire. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers, romantic smut

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Your feelings for Jake resurface after you tried to push them away, leading to an extremely intimate night with your best friend.

a/n: I really hope there's still an audience for Top Gun Maverick smut because I really loved writing for Hangman and Rooster. Also, I’m currently working on the requests in my inbox but as always feel free to send any my way! I hope you enjoy <3

You're best friends with Jake, in fact you're the only one who he doesn't seem to have an attitude with. Working at The Hard Deck allows you to see him even more frequently, which you truly enjoy.

You know not to get too attached to him, you know how he is with women, you know that given the chance he would simply fuck you and leave your life forever. So of course you’ve entirely given up on the chance of ever being anything more than just his friend, his best friend.

The doors swing open with Mav and his team bounding in, he greets Penny, glancing over at you as you lean over a table obviously lost in thought.

“What are all of you doing here? I’m not even open yet,” she starts to scold but Maverick brushes her comment off.

“I thought you could make an exception for us,” he shoots her a sly grin and she rolls her eyes. Hangman gives you a gentle pat on the back as he passes you, saying a soft hello.

Phoenix chuckles as she stands in front of you, “Hey Y/N,” you groan in response.

“Hey, bagman.” Phoenix addresses the blond who's standing at the pool table, “What's up with Y/N?” Hangman turns toward Phoenix and raises an eyebrow in response to her question. He didn't seem particularly interested in the conversation, but his attention was piqued nonetheless.

"Hm? Oh, Y/N? What about her?" he said, leaning against the pool table with a nonchalant tone.

“I mean, just look at her. She looks like she's got something on her mind.” she says, nodding in your direction. Their gazes fall on you, watching as you wipe the same place over and over. He approaches you with a frown on his face, clearly noticing your distracted state.

He stands in front of you, his arms folded across his chest, and observes you silently. "You look like you're in another world, sweetheart," he finally says in a low voice, tilting his head to get a better look at your face.

You glance up at him, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah, something like that.” you mutter.

“Well, don't just say that and not give me the details.” he raises an eyebrow, watching the way you look away. Something was definitely on your mind, he could tell by the look on your face alone. He knew you all too well, and your usual mood was certainly not this solemn.

He leaned down a bit, making sure he was in your field of vision again, his arms still crossing his chest. “Come on, you can tell me. What's going on?” he prodded, a hint of concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” your expression softens as you toss the rag into the red bucket under the counter.

“Oh, really now?” he says with a doubtful tone. He knew you were lying straight to his face, you were usually a pretty terrible liar. He leans against the counter a little bit, keeping his eyes on you. “I know there’s something going on in that pretty little head of yours. So spill it.” He spoke in a firm tone, trying to get you to open up to him.

“It's just,” you purse your lips as you choose your words carefully, making sure he doesnt find out you're talking about him. “Just some guy, has me distracted.”

“A guy?” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. There was something off about the way you spoke, like you were intentionally being vague. But his curiosity quickly shifted into jealousy as you mentioned you were distracted by another guy.

His arms tensed across his chest as he leaned a little closer towards you. “Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn’t like the idea of someone else capturing your attention, let alone making you distracted.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it.” you tease him, your mood becoming a bit more lighthearted.

He rolled his eyes at your teasing, a small hint of a smile appearing on his face. But he was still determined to figure out who this other guy was, who was taking your attention away from him.

He pushed off the counter, moving to stand in front of you so that you were now face to face. “Come on, spill it. Who is this guy?” he said, a hint of insistence in his voice.

“I don’t want to make you jealous.” There was a hint of a smirk on his face as you mentioned making him jealous. He knew you were teasing him, but his competitive nature couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Oh, you think I’d get jealous?” he said, a hint of mock arrogance in his tone. “I don’t get jealous, sweetheart.” you think for a second, realizing that maybe getting advice from the man who's bothering you so much, might actually be your best option.

“Fine,” you pull yourself up on the counter, sitting on the edge in front of him. “He’s an ass sometimes, all he cares about is getting laid so I know I need to stay away. But.. I just can’t stop thinking about him.” you sigh.

Hangman looks a bit surprised by your admission, he wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt about the situation. He wants to tell you to forget about the guy and focus your attention on him instead, but he knows he doesn’t have any claim over you.

He leans against the counter next to you, his arms resting across his chest once again. “Sounds like a player, why bother with him?” he asks, trying to sound indifferent.

“I don't know, it’s just that he's always on my mind.” you lean back on your palms, “I guess that's why I’m so distracted today.” He can see the hint of frustration and confusion in your expression, it was clearly bothering you that this guy was constantly invading your thoughts.

He’s silent for a moment, his mind racing with different thoughts and feelings. But eventually he speaks, his voice low and firm. “You can do so much better than some player,” he says with a slight scoff, “You don’t need a guy like him in your life.”

Your eyes wander across his face as you sigh, “I know..” your voice trails off. He looks down at you, noticing the way your eyes are wandering across his face. He can see the hint of disappointment in your expression, as you admit that you know you can do better.

He steps a bit closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. “So why bother with him then? Why waste your time and energy thinking about a guy who doesn’t deserve you?"

“I should get back to work.” you smile softly at him, hiding the frustration at his admission. He didn’t want you to go, he wasn’t ready to let the conversation end just yet. The way you smiled softly at him, a hint of frustration in your eyes, made him want to keep talking to you and find out more.

But he knew you had a job to do, and he didn’t want to come off as needy or overbearing. He nods in response to your statement, forcing a small smile back.

“Y/N,” Penny smiles warmly at you, “How about you call it a day?” she presses her hand to your back.

“Are you sure?” you question her, she simply nods at you. You find your way over to the pool table watching the pilots play.

The pilots are in the middle of a game of pool, laughing and teasing each other as they take turns shooting. Hangman in particular is clearly enjoying himself, relishing in the competitive atmosphere. He knows he's good at pool, and he's not afraid to show it.

He’s the first to notice your approach, and his demeanor changes slightly. He glances at you, a hint of a cocky smile on his face. “Finished working already?” he teases, his eyes watching you intently.

“Yeah, but my ride won't be here for a couple more hours.” you bite down on your bottom lip, gazing at him.

He steps even closer to you, his gaze unwavering. “If you don't want to keep waiting, I can drive you home.” his voice lowered as he stares down at you.

“Actually that sounds like a great idea,” you smile up at him, thankful you won’t have to stay any later.

He can't help but feel satisfied that you agreed so easily to his offer, pleased that he'll have more time alone with you. He grins back at you, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.

"Alright then, let's get going." he says, jerking his head towards the exit. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the doors. You wave goodbye to Penny and Mav who are deep in a conversation.

“Do you maybe have time to watch a movie with me?” you fiddle with your fingers, “I mean, it's been a while since we've hung out just the two of us.”

He listens to your question, his mind racing with different thoughts, but he quickly shoves them down. He would do anything to spend more time with you. He pretends to act a bit indifferent, but his voice betrays him as he replies.

"Sure, we can watch a movie." he shrugs, trying not to seem too eager. "Got one in mind?" you reach for the handle of his passenger side door.

“Hm, we could watch anything. I just want to be with you,” you admit carelessly while getting into the car.

He can’t help but feel a flutter in his chest at your admission, his heart races a little bit faster as he watches you get into the car. He quickly gets into the driver’s seat, trying to act like your words don’t affect him.

“Anything, huh?” he teases, glancing over at you quickly as he starts the car. “Even a cheesy romance movie?” he smirks, knowing how much you love them.

You gasp in response, “Obviously, you *know* they're my favorite.” his mind goes back to the discussion you had earlier as you smile at him.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your response, “Of course I do, I can’t forget your obsession with them.” he teases, his eyes staying focused on the road as he drives. But his mind starts to wander again, thinking about your earlier confession.

As his mood shifts slightly, he glances over at you with a hint of a frown on his face. “So, uh, this guy you were talking about,” he says, breaking the silence in the car. “How… how serious are you about him?”

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrow softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly at your reaction, his eyes staring straight ahead as he continues to drive.

He can’t help the pang of jealousy that runs through him, he glances over at you, his face trying to maintain a nonchalant expression. “I just mean, you said you didn’t want to get in trouble with a guy.” he says, his tone guarded.

“I don’t know.” you sigh looking out the window.

His heart does a backflip at your words, he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but he can’t help the small smirk that appears on his face. “So, you’re single, huh?” he teases, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Mhm, why do you ask?” you question him. He continues to drive, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he answers your question.

“Just wondering,” he replies casually, trying to feign indifference. But he can’t help the nervous energy that’s building inside of him. He glances over at you, his gaze raking over your face thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been single for a while too,” he adds, an underlying hint in his voice.

“You’re always single,” you retort, “you prefer hook-ups over relationships, right?” you tease him.

He lets out an annoyed huff, not expecting you to tease him like that. His face flushes slightly as he remembers all the past hookups he’s bragged about to you, in an attempt to make you jealous. “Hey,” he says with false annoyance in his voice, “I can be in a relationship if I wanted to.”

“And would you want to?” you question as he pulls into the parking lot of your building.

He parks the car, his heart racing slightly at your question. He turns to look at you, hesitating for a moment. The thought of being in a relationship, with you, was something he’d fantasized about for a while. But he’s also a coward, terrified of being vulnerable and getting hurt.

He takes a deep breath, trying to maintain a casual composure. “Maybe, if it was the right person.” he finally responds, his eyes searching your face for a reaction. You nod in response, slightly disappointed with his answer.

“Who’s your right person?” your voice is quiet. He’s taken aback by your question, the subtle disappointment in your voice stabbing at his heart. He glances down, his mind racing with different thoughts and emotions.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes shifting back up to meet yours. His heart pounds even faster as he musters up the courage to answer you. “Well.. I think you already know.” your eyes widen at his implication, feeling his hand moving to cup your cheek.

He can see the surprise in your eyes as he cups your cheek gently, his thumb stroking your skin softly. His heart is racing as he looks down at you, his eyes searching your expression for a reaction.

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “Do you… do you feel the same way?” he asks, his voice soft and nervous.

“Jake.. I.” your heart races as your words get stuck in your throat. His chest clenches as you struggle to speak, his stomach in knots as he waits for your response. His hand is still gently caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving your face.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure. “Please, just tell me. I need to know.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. Finding yourself speechless, you respond by pressing your lips to his.

He’s taken by surprise by your action, his eyes widening for a split second before he responds to your kiss. A wave of relief and happiness washes over him as he feels your lips against his, his heart racing with excitement and disbelief as he realizes the asshole you were talking about earlier just so happens to be him.

He moans softly against your mouth, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers burying into your hair as he kisses you back, passionately and hungrily. You lean closer to him, your hands cupping his cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue twirling with yours. He can’t believe this is actually happening, that you feel the same way he does.

He pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you onto his lap. He moans against your lips, his hands roaming down your sides, his touch both gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Jake,” you whisper against his lips, feeling his bulge pressed against your heat. He shudders hearing his name leaving your lips, his eyes darkening with desire for you. He can’t help but moan softly as he feels your body pressed against his, his hips instinctively bucking up slightly in response.

He pulls you even closer, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips trailing down your neck. “Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I want you so damn bad.” you moan quietly, leaning into his touch.

“We need to go inside,” your voice and gaze are filled with desire. His heart races at your moan, his body aching with need for you. He nods in agreement, his eyes filled with the same desire.

“You’re right, we should go.” he mutters, his hands roaming over your hips, unable to keep himself from touching you.

He lifts you off his lap, opening the car door and practically dragging you out with him. He shuts the door behind you before pulling you towards the building’s entrance, his eyes filled with impatience and lust.

He presses you against the wall of the elevator, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” he mutters against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He kisses and nips at your neck, unable to get enough of you, your soft moans fill the cramped space.

He can’t help but smirk to himself as he hears your moans, his heart racing as he realizes he’s the one making you feel this way. He feels a surge of pride and satisfaction knowing he’s the one who has your heart racing and your body yearning.

“Jake, fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” The ding of the elevator pulls you both out of your trance as the doors open, revealing the empty hallway. He grabs your hand, practically dragging you towards your apartment.

You fumble with the doorknob as you unlock it, feeling his desperate hands around your waist.

He can't keep his hands off you, his fingers tracing the exposed skin of your waist as you fiddle with the keys. Impatience floods him, his desire growing with every second.

He presses himself against you from behind, his lips finding your neck once again. "Hurry up," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you, right now."

You pull the door open, smirking at his impatience. He traps you between his arms, your back pressed against the closed door, his body pressed firmly against yours. He gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and low. He leans down and captures your lips in a fierce and passionate kiss, his body desperate to get closer to you.

You press against him, your palms against his lower abs, as you lead him to your bedroom blindly. He follows your lead through the apartment, his lips never leaving yours. His body is on fire, the feeling of your hands on his abs driving him wild.

He pushes you against the doorframe of your bedroom, his body pinning you to it as he continues to kiss you deeply and hungrily. He can't get enough of your mouth, his tongue tasting every inch of it. He slips his knee between your thighs, pressing into your sensitive pussy. You moan into his mouth, your eyebrows scrunching in pleasure.

His knee presses against your sensitive core, his tongue exploring your mouth greedily. He can hear your moans, your breath hitching as he presses into you. He feels a surge of satisfaction as he knows he’s the one who makes you feel this way.

He nips at your bottom lip, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “You like that, sweetheart?” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. “You want more?”

“Please,” you grasp onto his sides, moaning desperately, “I need more please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice, your fingers gripping his sides. His heart aches at your plea, his body responding instantly to your need.

He moans against your mouth in response, his hands roaming down to your thighs. In one swift motion, he lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you into your bedroom.

He gently but firmly presses you against the plush comforter of your bed, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows across your flushed cheeks and the passionate hunger in his gaze. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With a low growl, he starts to peel away the layers of fabric that separate his skin from yours. His rough hands glide over your smooth flesh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each piece of clothing that falls away reveals more of your beauty to him, and he can't help but moan in appreciation. His eyes are locked onto yours, watching the way your pupils dilate with every touch, every kiss.

He nips at your earlobe before tracing the line of your jaw with his teeth, making you squirm under him. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of your body, learning every dip and peak that makes you gasp. His kisses become more fervent, his teeth grazing your neck as he sucks soft hickeys into your skin. You can feel the pressure build, the promise of bruises that will be a secret between the two of you.

Your breath comes in pants as he kisses down your chest, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipples. You arch your back, pushing your breasts closer to his eager mouth, your hands tangling into his hair. He groans, the vibration of his pleasure echoing through your body, making your core clench with need. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, and you can't help but bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

His mouth continues to travel downward, leaving a trail of hot kisses down your stomach. His eyes never leave yours, the hunger in them growing with every inch closer he gets to your wet pussy. You can feel your heart pounding against your ribs, the anticipation of his touch making your skin tingle with excitement.

With surprising gentleness, he spreads your legs apart, his gaze lingering on the wetness that's already gathered there. He groans, his own arousal evident in the tightness of his pants. He leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, and you can't help but moan out his name as he kisses the inside of your thigh.

The first suck is gentle, but firm, and you feel your pussy clench in response. He starts to suck dark hickeys along the sensitive skin, each one a little harder and closer to your center. Your hands tighten in his hair as he works his way closer to your core, the pleasure building with every mark he leaves.

“More, Jake, please!” you beg him, your voice desperate and needy. He chuckles against your skin, his tongue flicking against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your back arches as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking hard. You moan loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls of your small apartment.

He inserts one finger inside you, feeling the slickness of your arousal. You gasp as he starts to pump in and out, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, teasing and taunting it. His eyes watch yours as he reads every reaction, making sure to hit all the right spots.

You're close, so close, but he knows you can take more. He adds another finger, stretching you just right, the friction making your toes curl. Your eyes roll back into your head as he starts to pump faster, his mouth never leaving your clit. He feels you tighten around his fingers, the warmth of your orgasm approaching.

He keeps his rhythm steady, not letting up even when your moans turn into whimpers of pleasure. You're so close, your body begging for release. His eyes never leave you, the intensity of the moment causing your chest to heave with every ragged breath. And then it hits you, the orgasm crashing over you like a wave.

You scream his name, your body convulsing with pleasure. He keeps his mouth on you, drinking in your release, savoring the taste of your arousal. As the waves subside, he kisses up your body, his hands still holding you in place.

"You taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with satisfaction. He can feel your legs shaking as his own need for you grows with every second. He strips off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours, and then he's on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress.

He positions himself at your entrance, his cock aching to be inside you. He looks into your eyes, searching for permission, and you nod eagerly. He takes a deep breath, then gently pushes in, feeling your warmth envelop him. You gasp as he stretches you, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

As he’s fully sheathed in your wetness, he holds still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being connected to you so intimately. He starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm. Each time he thrusts into you, your eyes widen and a moan escapes your lips. He loves the way you react to him, the way your body moves with his.

He keeps his movements gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you, despite his own desperate need to claim you completely. His hands are everywhere, stroking your skin, feeling your curves, as he kisses along your jawline. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

Your thighs squeeze around him, your heels digging into his back as he continues to thrust into you, deeper and deeper. His movements become more urgent as he feels your body tightening around him, the walls of your pussy clenching down on his cock. You moan his name, urging him to go faster, harder, and he responds eagerly, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm.

You can feel yourself on the edge of another orgasm, your breaths coming in short gasps. Hangman’s eyes are locked on yours, watching the pleasure build in your gaze, feeling the power he has over your body. He can’t believe how beautiful you look, your face contorted in ecstasy, your eyes glazed over with lust.

Your body begins to spasm around him, your pussy clenching down hard. He groans, his hips stuttering as he feels you start to cum. The sensation is overwhelming, your muscles tightening around his cock like a vice, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

With a sudden jolt, he pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, his cock spurting cum onto your stomach with a loud groan. His eyes never leave your body, watching as your orgasm takes over, your pussy pulsing and gripping at nothing.

He's left breathless, his chest heaving as he looks down at you, his expression one of awe and satisfaction. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before his eyes drift down to the mess he's made of you.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, your body trembling with the pleasure he’s given you. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of your beautiful, sated body.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire and exhaustion. His eyes rake over your form, taking in every curve and plane, every mark he’s left behind.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers tracing the lines of his bites and hickeys on your skin.

“Now let's get you cleaned up, hm?” He lifts you up, wrapping his strong arms around you, and carries you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, letting the water run until it warms up, before placing you gently under the spray.

He steps in after you, his body pressing against yours as he begins to lather your body with soap, his hands moving over your skin gently but possessively. You exhale contentedly as you press into his chest, relaxing in his embrace.

He holds you close, his arms encircling you, as the water cascades over your bodies. His hands run over your body, washing away the sweat and evidence of your passionate encounter. Jake nuzzles his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, a sense of peace washing over him. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, his voice low and soothing.

“You’re not just fucking around with me are you?” your voice is uneasy as your stomach twists with anxiety. He freezes, taken aback by your vulnerable question. He can hear the anxiety in your voice, and it pierces his heart.

He pulls away slightly, turning your body to face his, cupping your face gently in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are intense but filled with understanding.

“No. No, sweetheart, I’m not just ‘fucking around with you’.” His voice is firm but tender. “What we did tonight, it meant something to me. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. You mean way too much to me.” your eyes soften as his gaze into yours with sincerity.

“Good, because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” you bite down on your lip. He feels a rush of tenderness and protectiveness wash over him as he hears your sincere words. He pulls you closer, your wet bodies pressed against each other, his arms encircling you in a firm embrace.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he mutters against your hair, his voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and possessiveness. “You’re all I want too, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I need you.”

[stalkedandblocked]

camgirl!reader x sevika

tw. reader and sevika are live, regular au (?? i have no idea how to word it 😭) masturbation (reader), strap on, fingering, cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sevika puts you in a headlock, squirting, overstim, sucking the strap

while in college you get a little bored of your mundane life, and with some free time during the night and also in need of some more money you start an only fans account. after growing quite a following you decide to do a raffle to stream with one of your fans to make things more interesting.

a/n: this took so long holy moly. i hope y’all liked this because this is one of my first times writing a full fic <3 like and reblog if ur a real sevika truther :D

with your tripod and camera on your bed infront of you, you moan, “mmmf… im so close,” you arch your back off the bed as you press the vibrator harder onto your clit. you spread your legs wider, giving a show to the camera. “fuck- oh my god,” your hips start bucking and you throw your head back, you moan and cry as your orgasm hits you, the painful feeling of overstimulation comes quickly but you keep the vibrator on your pussy and your whole body trembles through your orgasm. panting like a dog, you finally turn off the vibrator and place it to the side.

you lift your shaky body and sit on your knees in front of the camera, putting your hands in your lap to squeeze your breast together. you start to announce the little idea you had. messages are spammed in the chat, asking for you to chose them, that they’ll even send money for you to choose them, and asking about what you mean by this. you only giggle and say, “it’s just a thought you pervs, i thought it might be fun to chose one of you randomly and see if you’d be interested in streaming with me.”

the chat dies down on the questions and you say a few more words to say goodbye, before ending the stream by blowing them a kiss.

after hopping in the shower and getting yourself clean, you change into some comfy pajamas before making a post on your page.

‘hi to all my fans! i’m so glad you guys were interested in my proposal, if your in the area dm me for a chance to stream with me ;), i can’t wait!’ after pressing send you turn your phone off and head to bed, hoping that hopefully this won’t be a mistake, and that whoever you chose isn’t entirely horrendous looking.

the next day you check your phone, a couple hundred dm’s are in your inbox. most being people from far away asking if they can fly out but you stick to your word, you find one from an account who sent their address. “let’s see what this person has to offer” you think to yourself. you text back and forth before ultimately asking for a photo of them holding some id next to them so you know they’re not lying about their identity.

a while passed before the account responds, there was no indication about who this person might be so your surprised to see a woman, another notifications sends and it’s a photo of her id attached. you look closer at it, her names sevika, she’s quite a bit older than you, but that didn’t bother you. you ponder for a bit, you’ve never had sex with a woman, but was not opposed to the idea. but yes, even thought the photo of herself is a bit awkward, even reminding you of a parents facebook photo which makes you laugh to yourself a bit, she is very attractive. and from what you can see she seems quite muscular.

“alright”, and you send her an address of a restaurant near both of your homes and tell her to meet you there tomorrow and 4pm.

the next day, you put on a simple going out outfit, nothing to make it obvious your meeting a stranger to fuck her, then head out the door. as you walk to the restaurant you feel butterflies, obviously you had only even been with men, but she was, well, very sexy you thought. the idea excited you but also made you nervous.

as you sat at a table and tell the waitress your waiting for somone, another walks into the restaurant. you miss her face but her hair is tied half up and it’s short, a few inches above her shoulder. she’s also is very tall. you gulp, from what you remember that looks like her. she scans the restaurant before you make eye contact. she walks over to you and sits across from you.

“you must be sevika,” you smile, feeling more nervous than you expected to be. when she responds her voice is deep and smooth, her words are almost seductive. compared to your messages and how she talks to you she seems much more ready and nonchalant about this whole situation in real life. everything about her attracts you, “so did you have any ideas of when you’d like to.. ahem” you try to keep your voice down so no one hears and gets any ideas, “..stream”.

sevika is lazily leaning back in her char, legs nudged open a bit. she leans over the table, resting her arms on it, “i’m ready whenever you are.” you have no idea if she meant to make you flustered, or tried to make it sound sexy but her words melt you brain almost. you stand quickly and grab her arm, “let’s do it today, let’s do it now!” you squeal out before your dragging her out of the restaurant.

sevika had driven so she directs you to her car, you drive to your house and you walk up the stair together after she grabs a bag out of the back of her car. your whole body is warm and fuzzy with excitement. “i usually wear some lingerie when i start, as you probably know. would you like some or do you want to start naked?” you ask, grabbing a matching to set to change into.

“naked.” she responds, she watches as you walk to the bathroom to change. you throw a robe out of the bathroom so she can cover herself before you start. you come out in your set, wearing a robe as well. she sits on your bed watching, “let me set up the camera and then we can begin. did you have anything in mind on what we want to do, what we want to follow?”

“i have ideas for later, but let’s not worry about that now.”

you begin the stream, sevika sits naked on your bed, and you take the robe off infront of the camera. sevika places a hand on your hip guiding you to her lap before you crawl over her. each touch feels like sparks, your already soaked and anticipating what’s gonna happen. you grab eachother and start kissing, her tongue runs over your lip and your lips crash against each other. you sit down on her lap and slowly move your hips over her muscular thighs, you moan into her mouth. “that’s a good girl,” she praises, before continuing to kiss you.

she grabs your hips roughly, helping them move back and forth, you arch and moan for her. your chat is going crazy, some even shocked that it’s another woman. she stops your grinding and lifts your hips up a bit before dragging her thick finger up and down your slit. both of you seem like you forgot that your streaming and just enjoy each others bodies. she rubs your clit in circles, making your toes curl. she takes you from on top of her and flips you to face the camera, spreading your legs, the exposing position making you even wetter. she slides your panties to the side so the camera can see your wet cunny, she starts rubbing circles on your clit makes you throw your head back.

she chuckles at you, “don’t make me hold you head up. already so sensitive, huh?” her mocking words make you moan once more, she begins teasing your hole before nudging her index and middle finger into you. her fingers are so thick and long, your already seeing stars, “fuck! yes! right there sevika, oh my god-” you scream out as she adds her ring finger inside. your juices leak all over her lap and hand. your head leans against her and you mewl into her ear, begging to cum. as you finally start to reach your orgasm she pulls out her fingers and slaps your pussy.

“fuck!” you cry out as your body reacts to your ruined orgasm, sevika chuckles. you breathe heavily as sevika manhandles your basically limp body, laying it on the bed, she starts pulling down your panties and the slick dripping between your legs is more visible than ever. you arch your back slightly off the bed and she unclips your bra, she stops what she’s doing and stares at them. you giggle and can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or because of her expression, like she’s almost captivated. your breasts fall from the bra and lay prettily on display, which sevika quickly takes advantage of and begins to suck at on of your nipples and knead the other. you let at small moans while kisses litter your tits.

she lifts her head up and smirks “are you ready?” she asks, with having no idea what she’s talking about, you eagerly nod. she begins moving her body over yours and places her bare pussy on your face, letting down all her weight, then spreading your legs and burrying her face in your own cunt. your almost shocked by this, she starts teasing the tip of her tongue on your clit, before diving it into your hole, tongue fucking you and hitting all the good spots in your pussy. you moan against her cunt and try to copy her actions. you suck her clit and lap your tongue up and down her pussy, you squeeze around her tongue in response to her moaning. it’s low and vibrates through your whole body. it’s not long before you cum because of the previous teasing she had done earlier. you squeeze your legs around her head and buck up, trying to keep up the pace with how your lapping her pussy, but inevitably struggle from how your body is shaking against her face.

sevika places one last sloppy kiss to your clit then raises herself, and grinds against your face until she orgasms, gripping onto your hair. the moans she lets out makes your pussy ache.

while coming down form your high you lay next to each other panting, forgetting about the stream itself. “you okay, baby?” sevika asks, places kisses on your neck. “mhm,” you mumble, relaxing into the bed as she kisses you. “well, i think it’s time for what i had planned for earlier”, she gets up and disappears off camera. across the room she pulls something out of her bag that she had grabbed earlier. she begins to attach something to her hips, and before you know it she’s standing over you with a strap on.

it’s so thick and long, you gulp. not even with any men had you had to take something for big. “i know your wet enough but, i don’t think this is” sevika lets out a sly smile. her height already towers over you, so even standing and you sitting in the bed has you face to face with it. “suck it.” she orders and obediently you do. you place your hands around it, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes, and slowly thrust your mouth down onto it. she stares down at you and bites her lip. you bob your head up and down, slowly reaching down with each thrust, your throat adjusts around it and you gag against it and sevika laughs. she places one hand on your head to tug at your hair. once you finally reach down the base she holds your head down. the length makes your eyes tear up as you gag even more.

she pulls your hair back until your off of it and pushes you down to the bed. still grasping your hair she puts your face down into the pillows and keeps your ass up before crawling over you. she has your face infront of the camera and wraps her arm around you. her thick biceps flex as she grabs the strap to line it up at your cunt. she wastes no time pushing it in, when she bottoms out your eyes roll back and without even moving it feels almost heavenly. she starts thrusting slowly before they become almost rapid, her arm squeezes around your throat even more and you moan and gasp. “taking it like such a good little slut,” she purred. you let out a messy smile and your moans just couldn’t stop coming out. they way it felt against your g-spot and pounded into you made your toes curl.

“se-sevika!” you drooled, “i’m gonna cum, please! hah, keep going!” you screamed, sevika took no time and started pounding into you more, her free arm rubbing your clit, fast circles against the puffy aching bud. your body shook and your eyes rolled back into your head, sevika thought they might never go back. you cried out before you finally squirted all over yourself and the bed, the liquid covering your stomach, the sheets and sevikas hand. “holy shit” sevika gasped at the reaction to your orgasm. your whole body was stiff and shaking, your mouth tried to let out moans but nothing came out as your eyes rolled back as hard as they could. your body went limp onto the bed, sevika pulled out of you, a line of slick breaking as the contact broke. you whined at the sudden emptiness.

she grabs the camera and faces it towards you, she spreads your weak legs showing the amount of cum that had leaked from your hole and everything that had dripped onto the sheets and between your thighs. “took it like the good slut she is,” she grabbed a handful of your ass and let out a laugh before she abruptly ended the stream.

she threw the camera onto the bed carelessly, then asked, “so, want to meet again next week?”

[miyadollie]

R/CRUSHES : HOW DO I TALK TO MY OFFICE CRUSH ? sillyguy0813 says : dude just borrow a stapler

★ STARRING office worker lee jeno x fem reader ( ft. best friend jaemin ) ★ WORD COUNT 2.6k + 3OO bonus ★ CONTAINS co-workers to dating, fluff !! lee jeno being a cutie, jaemin is a menace to society, workplace romance, ★ MIYA SAYS 💗 this is my first time TRYING to write a long fic :3 pls give me any constructive criticism and feedback thank uu 🧘🏼‍♀️ . update : wow i absolutely dislike my writing here but its been rotting in drafts too long and i gave up on fixing this TT

it starts with a stapler.

one you’re not even sure belongs to you. maybe you bought it once during a sale, or someone left it at your desk during a particularly chaotic week, and it stayed. quietly claimed as yours.

the moment wasn't love at first sight, no grand declaration of love with bouquets or fireworks. just a quiet tuesday morning, your inbox overflowing, the boss increasing your headache by preponing your deadlines, the coffee machine on its last breath and the fluorescent lights above flickering slightly like they, too, were tired of this job. and then there’s him.

lee jeno. clean-cut. soft-spoken. the kind of guy who always says “excuse me” when passing behind you, even when there’s plenty of space. always dressed a little too well for your casual office. not flashy—never that—but tidy, crisp. thoughtful. one cubicle down, diagonal from yours. he’s been here a while. a familiar face in the sea of semi-familiar ones. you’ve never really talked but only ever exchanged the kind of polite nods reserved for coworkers who share nothing but recycled air and a breakroom.

until today. “could you pass the stapler?” you look up, startled slightly by the voice.

he’s leaning just slightly over the low partition separating your desks, eyes trained on the corner of your workspace where your lonely black stapler sits. he gives you a smile. not flashy. not flirtatious. just—nice. warm. gentle. you blink once. then reach for it. “thanks,” he says. you nod. he returns to his screen. that’s it. except… it isn’t. because the next day, he borrows a pen. the day after that, post-its. then tape. then scissors. always returning everything. always smiling. always saying thank you like he means it. and now you’re wondering. is this flirting? some kind of extremely office-safe, hr-friendly version of it? or are you just painfully, embarrassingly overthinking it? or maybe did you have an unspoken crush on him? not that you can be blamed. - lee jeno is attractive. undeniably so. you’ve seen him once—just once—rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down in the middle of summer, and you swear you forgot how to form a coherent sentence for ten straight minutes. defined forearms. slim but strong hands. that razor-sharp jawline, often tilted thoughtfully while reading something on his screen. dark lashes. deep voice. a gym guy, apparently—you overheard it once when he mentioned it to jaemin (you weren’t eavesdropping, you just… have really good ears). you haven’t initiated anything. neither has he. but those tiny moments? the ones that make your heart skip? they’re adding up

────

FRIDAY | 4:30 PM

“soo… still down to try that new restaurant?” jaemin asks one afternoon, casually leaning on your desk during lunch with a fresh iced americano in hand—probably his fifth for the day. “obviously,” you reply, eyes lighting up. “people have been absolutely glazing it online. thanks for getting us a table!” he grins. “see you at 9 then.” just as he turns, he spins back around like a cartoon character. “oh, also—jeno’s coming. hope that’s cool?” you freeze. your face says i’m fine, but your body language screams mayday. “y-yeah. sure. totally chill,” you manage. “coolcoolcoolcool,” you say, immediately turning your head towards your computer, and then you see your reflection on the blank empty screen. you were blushing. hard. jaemin smirks knowingly as he walks off. of course he knows. he always knows. after all, he’s the mastermind who told jeno to borrow your stapler in the first place. ────

8:55 PM

the restaurant is low-lit and warm, the kind of place where the wood-paneled walls muffle outside noise, and everything feels just a little more intimate than it should. you arrive five minutes early. out of habit, mostly. or nerves. you’re not sure which. jaemin’s already there, somehow sipping an iced americano even here, scrolling through his phone while pretending not to notice your presence with a dramatic sigh. “i told you 9:00,” he says, without looking up. “it’s 8:55.” “still early.” he glances at you now, then raises an eyebrow. “cute top.” you ignore his antics, he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you. typical jaemin. your heart is already thudding too loudly, because jeno walks in right after. black shirt, sleeves rolled up. clean slacks. a bit of cologne, subtle but warm. his hair’s tousled slightly, and his eyes light up just a little when they land on you. “hey,” he says, with that soft smile. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just smile back, scooting over so he can sit across from you. the conversation is light, easy. mostly thanks to jaemin, who fills every awkward silence with a joke, a story, an embarrassing anecdote about your office. jaemin and jeno were friends in school, you get to know that night, they were benchmates. jaemin always chose jeno as his partner for every game, every lab, and jeno just liked his company, so he stood with him always. jaemin talks about you to jeno too—how you both were first day interns and hit it off over a conversation about which seventeen album is truly the best. but every now and then, you catch jeno looking at you. not staring. not even for long. just—looking. like he’s seeing something he's trying very hard not to see too obviously. “so,” jaemin says mid-way through dessert, smirking at you over his spoon, “funny how you two never end up talking at work.” you nearly choke. jeno shifts in his seat. “like, what’s with all the stapler borrowing, huh? no small talk?” you glare at him. he grins. “i’m just saying. feels like there’s some unspoken office tension.” jeno lets out a quiet laugh. and then, after a beat—he looks at you. “i guess i just… wanted a reason to talk,” he says, voice soft. and your breath catches. your heart is thudding again. you manage a smile, small and shy. trying not to mess up words or blabber out something nonsensical. “i noticed,” you reply. the space between you feels full, suddenly. full of every little interaction. every thank-you. every passing smile. jaemin stretches obnoxiously. “well, look at the time! i’ve got a meeting with my bed in ten.” you roll your eyes. “you’re so obvious.” he shrugs. “you’re welcome.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind. leaving you and jeno, two half-finished desserts, and a quiet restaurant glowing gold in the late-night hush. “i can walk you home,” he says, gently. not pushing. just offering. and something in you says yes. to the walk. to this night. to the maybe that’s been building between you both. ────

10:45 PM

the night is cool, with a breeze just strong enough to lift the corners of your coat and make you tuck your hands into your sleeves. the restaurant’s warm glow fades behind you, replaced by the hush of quiet streets and dimly lit sidewalks. jeno walks beside you, hands in his pockets, his steps matching yours. neither of you says anything at first. the silence isn’t awkward. it’s... full. full of unspoken things. of nerves and glances and the way your arms brush every few seconds and both of you pretend not to notice. “jaemin talks too much,” jeno says eventually, voice low. you laugh softly. “it’s his specialty.” he hums in agreement, then adds, “he wasn’t wrong, though.” you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and then away again, like he’s testing the water, like he’s afraid of saying too much too fast. “i... didn’t really need the stapler that day.” your breath catches. “oh,” you manage, and you’re smiling now. you can’t help it. “i just... i guess i liked the idea of you looking at me. talking to me.” he pauses. “even if it was just a stapler.” you stop walking, just for a moment. jeno turns, realizing you’re no longer beside him. there’s a streetlight above him, casting shadows across his face and soft highlights in his hair. “you could’ve just said hi,” you whisper. he steps closer. barely. but enough to make the air between you buzz. “i know,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. every day. but you always looked so focused. and i didn’t want to ruin that.” your heart is a mess of drumbeats and warmth. “you wouldn’t have.” silence again. then he says, barely audible, “could i maybe get your number... just for office related stuff, of course.” you nod, because your voice has already betrayed you too many times tonight. a soft smile tugs at his lips. the quiet kind. the kind you know he saves for only a few people. he walks you all the way to your apartment. and when he says goodbye, it’s not a hug. not a kiss. just a quiet “goodnight” and a look that lingers longer than it should. but your heart knows. it knows everything. ────

SATURDAY | 9:00 AM

the next day, the office is just waking up. it always feels colder in the morning—half because of the ac blasting too early, half because everyone’s too busy chasing caffeine to talk. desks are still half-empty. monitors glow. the printer sputters. someone sneezes. a mug clinks. you step in, trying to hide the stupid smile that’s been stuck to your face since last night. your coat is too warm for indoors but your hands are cold, so you hold your coffee tighter. and then you see it. your desk. something’s different. sitting neatly on top of your keyboard is a brand-new stapler. blue, shiny, absolutely unnecessary. you freeze. right beside it, a yellow post-it. his handwriting. neat. almost too neat. “thought you could use one that wasn’t cursed.     —jeno :)” you almost laugh. it’s such a him thing to do—dry humor disguised as helpfulness. but your heart? it’s fluttering like it’s stuck in a romcom scene, an angelic choir singing along in tandem. you reach out and pick up the stapler.you didn’t even need one nor were you going to use one. but you want to keep this one forever. cherish it. maybe even pass it on as an heirloom.

just then, you hear someone clear their throat. “new office romance i should know about?” you don’t even need to turn around. jaemin. of course. loud, nosy, iced-americano jaemin. “shut up,” you say instantly, trying to sound bored. your cheeks are already heating up. but he walks past you, grinning like the devil, a bounce in his step like he’s in on the joke you’re still figuring out. and then—your gaze drifts. to the cubicle across. there he is. jeno. typing. or pretending to. his posture is the same—back straight, eyes on the screen—but his fingers are still on the home row keys, just gliding about. and when he feels your eyes, he glances up. It's brief, barely a second. but he smiles. like last night wasn’t just dinner. like it meant something.

a few hours later, a message pops up.

jeno lee “did the new one pass inspection?”

you “it’s still under review by the council. but i think they approve ;)”

jeno lee “let me know if it jams. i’ll personally fix it.”

you smile. a full smile this time. the kind that makes you reach for your coffee, lean back in your chair, and breathe in like something in your world has shifted.

jeno 💗 “what’s your go-to coffee order?”

you “anything except that poison jaemin drinks every day. ‘i like my coffee as dark as my soul’ ahh guy.”

jeno 💗 “haha.” “noted.”

the next morning there’s a cup of coffee on your desk, with yet another post-it note. “it’s the new specialty at a cafe near my place. i thought you’d like it :)”

that was truly the best coffee you had ever tasted. and maybe he started getting it for you every day. ────

WEDNESDAY | 9:00 PM

it's another day at the office. rain taps gently on the windows, a soft drumbeat to the silence of overworked employees and abandoned coffee mugs. you’re still at your desk & so is he. the fluorescent lights overhead are dimmer than usual, humming low like they’re tired too. you stretch your back, glancing at the clock. 9:04 pm. “still here?” comes his voice. you look up to see jeno leaning on the edge of his cubicle wall, sleeves rolled up, tie a little loosened. “so are you,” you shoot back. he smiles. “want company for the walk back?” you nod before your brain catches up.

the streetlights blur against the wet pavement, reflecting like oil paint smudged across the road. jeno’s shoulder brushes yours every few seconds—neither of you move away. he talks about the weird way jaemin eats ramen. you laugh. you tell him about your favorite childhood cartoon. he says he watched it too, and suddenly it’s three blocks later and you’re still talking. at a red light, you both stop. he glances down at you. you glance up. it’s a pause so charged you swear the rain quiets. “...you looked really pretty today,” he says suddenly. his voice isn’t confident or smooth—he says it like a secret. you don’t respond right away. just tuck your hair behind your ear, your face heating. he notices. the light turns green and you simply walk on. on reaching your apartment building you stop at the steps. he’s still holding the umbrella. you don’t say anything. he doesn’t either. there’s that moment again—that pause like the world might tilt if either of you moves. “i’m really glad you came to dinner that night,” he finally says, voice quieter than before. “been wanting to talk to you properly for months.” you blink. “...really?” jeno chuckles. “you had the office’s only decent stapler. of course i had to make a move.” you laugh—nervous and shy and full of everything you’ve been holding back. he takes a step closer. just one. not too much. “but also,” he adds, and this time his voice is a little more sure, “i like you. not just the lunch break, passing-notes kind. the kind where i want to sit and mindlessly watch silly romcoms with you, the kind where i want to walk you home every day and make sure you had dinner. the kind where - " he goes on. but words fall on deaf ears. you feel your heart clench, sweet and sharp. you’re about to respond when— “...so, if you’re okay with it,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck, “can i officially take you out sometime? like, not just coffee machine and post-it flirting. a real date.” you blink. once. twice. your face is warm. your chest feels like it’s glowing. “...yes.” you don’t even hesitate. his smile is soft. wide. genuine. and when he hands you the umbrella and waves goodnight, walking back with his hands in his pockets and a quiet bounce in his step. you think, maybe this started with a stapler. but it’s gonna end with something a lot more permanent. ──── BONUS : FEW WEEKS LATER | 2:00 PM

you, jeno, and jaemin were perched on the edge of the rooftop, paper lunchboxes balanced on your laps, chinese takeout - courtesy of jeno. the breeze is nice, the sky a little overcast, and jaemin's halfway through an enthusiastic rant about the company’s new vending machine layout.

“and like .. why did they move the green tea to the bottom row? what kind of criminal.. oh, thanks man.” he says as jeno hands him a napkin mid-rant, like muscle memory.

you say while giggling, “you guys are like an old married couple.”

jeno chokes on his rice. you pat his back helpfullly , still giggling.

jaemin just shrugs. “what can i say? i raised him well.”

jeno glares at him. mouthing ' stop. talking.' he knew jaemin could slip up any moment. for he always did.

jaemin does not stop talking.

“i mean, not to brag, but if it weren’t for me, he’d still be hovering awkwardly near your desk pretending he needed your stapler.”

you blink. “wait. what?”

jeno drops his chopsticks.

jaemin freezes. realizes.

“oh..." he mutters.

your jaw drops. “waitwaitwait. you told him to borrow my stapler?”

“in my defense,” jaemin says, holding up both hands, “i was just trying to save him from dying of heart failure every time you walked past. it was either that or fake a paper jam crisis.”

jeno is silent. fully hiding behind his lunchbox now.

you slowly turn to him. “is this true?”

“…maybe,” he mumbles.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. “oh my god. so all this time..”

“don’t act like it wasn’t genius!” jaemin interrupts. “you’re welcome, by the way. this whole slow-burn coffee shop romcom office love story? all me.”

jeno groans. “can i push him off the roof.”

you lean into jeno’s shoulder, grinning. “you should’ve just said hi.”

he sighs. “i wanted to. but every time i tried, you were always typing so fast. and glaring at your screen like it personally insulted your ancestors.”

you snort. “fair.”

jaemin raises his water bottle. “to true love, born from borrowing office supplies.”

jeno snatches it from him and takes a sip without asking. you think that’s revenge enough. read more ❤︎ please like, reblog and let me know your reviews (๑>◡<๑) this work is a piece of fiction and is not intended to reflect the real personalities, actions, or beliefs of the individuals portrayed. the idols mentioned are used purely as fictional characters for storytelling purposes. no harm, disrespect, or objectification is intended. everything written here is entirely imaginative and not based on real-life events or relationships.

[robo-writing]

Okay, now I need a fic based on the session the reader and Logan has when he was slapped. Like the thought of her passing out and he still continued to fuck her? And her coming too and he’s just pumping her full of his come? Lord have mercy 😩🤤

me getting this anon while i was knee-deep in writing angst is something so funny to me, crying my eyes out then opening my inbox to see this gave me mental whiplash like you can’t believe He barely sounds human, more man than beast. The weight of him pins you into the bed, unable to move. The creaking of the bed, your weak cries, his downright animalistic grunts of pleasure as he thrusts into your tired, achy cunt—you two sound like a cheap porno, and not in a good way.

You have no one else to blame for the six foot wall of muscle that pins you to the bed, holds your hands behind your back and fucks you like he’s got something to prove. His hips meet your backside again, and again, and again—each thrust leaving your ass raw.

You don’t know how long it’s been since he’s put you on your stomach, and you don’t care to know; all you want is for him to keep going. Hell, you’re not sure Logan would stop even if you begged him.

Reduced to his animal instincts, if he’s not panting in your ear like a bitch in heat he’s mumbling the filthiest fucking words into your skin, tongue lapping at the salt that clings to it.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he groans, each word emphasized by the sound of skin slapping on skin. “My girl, mine to fuck, mine to breed.”

It genuinely hurts to breathe, but all you scratching at his arms does is spur him even further. Eventually you give up, lie back like a good little whore and let him fuck you until either you pass out or he runs out of energy.

Unsurprisingly, option A seems to happen first.

A few spots in your vision, a ringing in your ears, then nothing. An unknown time passes, and you wake up in the same spot as before, spread open and speared on Logan’s magnificent dick.

At least from what you can gather he’s a bit more put together now, still pumping himself inside your warm walls, but much less violent than he was before. You feel the familiar thrum of orgasm on the horizon, an odd sort of pleasure-pain that keeps you aware long enough to listen to your boyfriend speak.

“‘M sorry baby, fuck, just couldn’t stop,” he says, kissing up and down your spine in apology, still chasing after his own high with each word. “Feel too good, so, so good, goddamn—“

He’s stuttering, cutting himself off, unable to string together a full sentence. You chance a glance at him and fuck, he’s a goddamn mess. Sweat dripping from his brow, muscles flexing so hard you could count each vein, a rosey blush running from his face to his chest—he looks like he’s just came from hell and back. Damn near incoherent, whispering sweet nothings into your shoulder—

“Lemme come in you baby, just one more time, one more fuckin’ time—���

It’s a rhetorical question at this point; like you ever had a choice with the way his cum drips from your cunt. So full of him that each thrust pulls more out of you, only to be replaced. He’s had to have cum inside of you multiple times, the sloppy sound of it mixing with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

And yet, he keeps on going.

An urge to control, to keep, a need to stuff his cock inside of you and have you know exactly who it is that has your pussy creaming for him.

[bearforcecaptions]

I always wished I had a neighbor more like me. Living here felt like I was trapped behind glass — close enough to see everyone, but never quite part of it. Most people kept their distance. And the one person who didn’t? My neighbor across the street — a massive, musclebound military guy who stomped around in full gear like he was still on active duty. Always shouting into his phone, working out in the driveway. We had nothing in common. I barely even waved hello.

One night, feeling lonelier than usual, I muttered under my breath, "I just wish I had a neighbor more like me." I didn’t think anything of it. Just a passing thought. But the world must’ve been listening.

When I woke up, everything was wrong.

First thing I noticed was the weight of the dog tags clinking against my chest. I sat up, disoriented, and the bed creaked under my heavier frame. I looked down — I was wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. And my body... Thick, heavy muscles bulged under my skin, veins tracing over biceps the size of softballs. My stomach was a carved six-pack, my legs like stone columns. Tattoos wrapped around my shoulders and arms — sharp black ink I didn’t remember getting.

I opened my mouth to shout, to ask what was happening — but instead, out came a calm, deep voice: "Situation normal. Good to go." I clamped my hand over my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs. This wasn’t right.

I stumbled out of bed — bare feet slapping the floor — and nearly tripped over a neatly stacked pile of folded camo fatigues. I rushed to the bathroom, gripping the doorframe like it might disappear.

The man staring back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Square-jawed, military haircut, a body like it was carved from granite. Hardened, disciplined. Unshakable. My hands — thick, calloused — shook slightly, but my face stayed stoic, calm, trained. I had to get help.

I yanked on a tight olive-green T-shirt, fatigues, and boots waiting by the door. Everything fit perfectly, like it had been tailored for this new, monstrous body. I bolted outside, desperate to find some scrap of normalcy.

That’s when I saw him. My neighbor. Standing by his truck, grinning wide, like we’d been friends for years.

"Mornin', brother!" he barked, striding over and clapping a heavy hand on my back. I tried to say something casual, anything — but my body snapped to attention, and I barked back, "Mornin', Sergeant! Outstanding day for PT!"

No. No no no. Inside, I was screaming. But on the surface, I was steady, confident, every word crisp like I’d practiced it my whole life.

We talked — about gear, training regimens, upcoming drills — and I just kept playing along, answering perfectly, even laughing when he cracked a joke about "those soft new recruits." At one point, I heard myself say, "Woke up at 0500 hours, got my warm-up set in before chow," — like it was the most natural thing in the world. 5 a.m., I corrected silently. Normal people say 5 a.m. But my mouth would never betray the facade.

"Come on, brother, we’re late for base," he barked, tossing a duffel into the truck. Without hesitation, I grabbed my own — somehow packed and ready — and climbed in.

The base was real. The ID around my neck scanned at the checkpoint. Guards waved me through. Nobody questioned it. We spent the day side-by-side, yelling commands, demonstrating lifts, pushing trembling recruits through brutal obstacle courses. And somehow, everything I needed to know was just there — drilled into me like muscle memory I never actually earned. Every command, every drill, every reprimand rolled off my tongue with perfect authority. And somewhere deep inside, the real me — the scared, confused version — shrank further and further down, screaming silently into the void.

That night, back in my strange, hyper-organized house, I tried to process it all. Photos covered the walls — snapshots of me and my neighbor on deployments, at competitions, at ceremonies. Awards lined the shelves. My inbox was full of congratulatory messages on recent promotions. My memories — my real ones — felt like faint shadows compared to the heavy, real weight of this new life.

The world believed this was who I'd always been. The world demanded I believe it too.

And no matter how much I panicked inside, no matter how much I begged for the old life back, my mouth only said, "Yes, sir." "Roger that." "Mission accomplished."

I guess my wish had come true. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had my best friend. My squad. My calling.

And deep down, under all the tattoos, the muscle, the discipline, the pride, the old me still existed. Still thrashing, still trying to surface.

But each day, that voice grew a little fainter. Each day, it got a little easier to lace up my boots, square my shoulders, and drive out to base. Adapt and overcome. That’s the mission now.

[ceramini]

THEN DONT ᭢᭡ sjy

𝟏𝟑𝟕𝟖𝒾 ──── loser!jake f!rea ✿ angst & smut ᵕ ᵕ blow job, riding, based on this ask ❞ 𝑫𝑰𝑨𝑹𝒀 ｡ ⠀

REBLOG FOR A KISS !? ʕ´   ᩙᩙ `  ʔ

Jake doesn’t mean to overhear it.

He’s just in the hallway, minding his own business, looking for you, actually—when he hears the voices. Familiar ones. People he knows. People you love.

He freezes when he hears his name.

“I mean, yeah, Jake’s sweet and all,” someone says with a shrug. “But don’t you think she could do better?”

He doesn’t breathe.

“I always thought she’d end up with someone… I don’t know. More put-together. More confident. He’s like a lost puppy most days.”

There’s laughter. It’s not malicious. Not sharp. But it cuts Jake anyway. Deep.

He doesn’t stay to hear the rest.

The feeling follows him. Clings to his ribs and gnaws at his throat like guilt.

You don’t say anything when he curls into your side that night and holds you tighter than usual. When he kisses your shoulder instead of your lips. When he pulls away before you can touch him.

You always assumed Jake was clingy because he was horny or needy or soft. But sometimes it’s because he’s scared.

Scared you’ll leave.

Scared someone better will come along and you’ll finally realize he’s nothing but a sad, annoying, insecure boy who likes Legos too much and cries too easily.

A few days pass.

He doesn’t bring it up.

He tries to act normal. Happy. Like his brain isn’t chewing him alive with doubts. He makes stupid jokes, buys you snacks, plays with your hair in bed until you fall asleep on his chest.

But the pit in his stomach only grows.

And then it gets worse.

Jake’s lying in bed with you one lazy afternoon, head on your lap, when your phone buzzes. You ignore it at first—too caught up in rubbing little shapes over his temples, humming some random tune, but he notices.

You’ve got a lot of DM requests.

When you finally go to check one, Jake sees it.

Not the message, but the sender. The profile pic. A verified account.

A face Jake remembers from weeks ago; a party you dragged him to, where he sat awkwardly in the corner nursing a Sprite while you chatted and laughed and looked so effortlessly you.

He remembers that guy talking to you. Tall. Perfect smile. Designer shirt. Confident in that smooth, cocky way Jake could never be.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t say anything. Just makes a mental note. Later that night, when you’re asleep, Jake opens Instagram and searches the guy’s username. And of course, it’s bad.

He’s gorgeous. One of those guys who looks like he knows he’s gorgeous. Shirtless gym selfies. Thousands of likes. Flirty captions. Comments full of girls. Jake scrolls for way too long, each post punching a little deeper into his gut.

He looks at his own profile after. Blurry mirror selfies. You in the background of half of them, making fun of his camera angle. His follower count isn’t even close.

He shuts his phone off and stares at the ceiling.

Why are you with him?

Why him, when you could have that?

He gets quiet again.

You notice.

“Jake,” you nudge him on the couch. “Why’re you all droopy?”

“M’not.”

“Liar. You’ve been weird.”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “Just tired.”

He’s not. He hasn’t slept properly in days.

But what is he supposed to say?

“Hey, I stalked one of the hot guys in your DMs and now I feel like crawling into a hole and dying because I will never be good enough for you?”

He doesn’t want to sound pathetic.

So he smiles instead. The weak kind.

You frown. “You sure?”

He tries to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it’s not like you don’t have a thousand guys in your inbox dying to take my place.”

You snort. “Jake.”

“I’m serious. I saw a few. Some of them were hot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

He shrugs again. “Maybe.”

“Well, I’m with you, dummy. So what does it matter?”

He laughs, quiet, breathless. “Yeah… sometimes I don’t even know why you are.”

You roll your eyes and swat his arm. “God, I don’t even know why I’m dating you sometimes.”

You mean it as a joke. Obviously. But the second it leaves your mouth, you feel the shift.

Jake goes still. His smile fades. His face falls. Something breaks behind his eyes, quick and silent and devastating.

And then, softly—

“…Whatever.”

You blink. “Jake—”

He stands, brushing your hand off his leg. Doesn’t look at you. “I’m gonna go build for a bit.”

Your heart sinks. “What?”

“I’ll be in my collection room.”

The door closes behind him before you can say anything else.

You sit there for a while, stunned. Confused. Guilt blooming like a bruise across your chest. You didn’t mean it. It was just a throwaway line. Something stupid. Something Jake normally laughs off.

But this time—he didn’t.

You wait ten minutes. Then twenty.

You try knocking.

No response.

So you go get the box from the closet. The new Lego set—the one he’s been talking about for weeks. The one you secretly ordered and saved up for. A rare one. He’d been rambling about it all month.

You crack the door open, peeking inside.

“Jake?”

He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a half-built model in front of him, but he’s not moving. Not building. Just staring.

You step inside quietly, holding the box.

“I got you something.”

No response.

“It’s the Galaxy Explorer set. The vintage re-release. Remember?”

Silence.

You set it down gently beside him. Still nothing. You kneel in front of him, heart twisting. “Jake…”

He blinks up at you slowly. Eyes dull.

“You’re not gonna open it?”

He shrugs.

And that’s when it hits you. He’s not just upset. He’s hurting. Like, deeply. Broken in a way Jake almost never lets you see.

Your chest caves in.

“Jake,” you whisper, crawling into his lap. “Come on. You’re the best boyfriend—”

“I’m your only boyfriend,” he mutters, eyes downcast. “How can you say the best when there’s no one to compare to?”

Your throat closes.

“I was joking,” you say quickly. “Baby, I swear—” He doesn’t answer. You feel the tears in your own eyes now.

“I’m not good at this,” you whisper. “At being soft. Or saying how I feel. You know that. But Jake—fuck, you’re everything to me. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. You’re the only thing in this world that makes me feel safe. And stupid. And warm. And real.”

You’re babbling. Desperate. Pulling at his hoodie until you’re straddling him fully, pressing your forehead to his.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. “Even when you’re sad. Even when you cry. Especially then.”

Jake closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his cheek. You kiss it away. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows. “You didn’t mean to.”

“I know. But I still did.” You kiss him softly. And again. And again. Then lower. Down his neck. To his chest. To his stomach.

You kneel between his legs, hands trembling as you tug his sweatpants down. “Let me show you,” you whisper.

And then you take him into your mouth, slow and reverent, like you’re praying. Jake gasps, hips jerking, hands flying to your hair. But you don’t rush. You worship. Licking and sucking, moaning around him just so he knows how much you love it. How much you love him.

He starts crying again—quiet and raw—and you don’t stop. You let him fall apart while you give him all the softness you usually hold back. When he cums, it’s with a broken sob of your name.

And when you crawl back into his lap, he holds you like he’ll never let go. You ride him slowly, tearfully, kissing every inch of his face.

“Jake,” you breathe. “Jake, I love you. I’m sorry. You’re everything to me. I’m never leaving. I swear. I swear.”

He doesn’t speak. Just holds your waist and cries silently, thrusting up into you like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. And when you both finish, shaking, clinging, crying into each other’s mouths, you don’t move.

You stay like that. One trembling mess of love and fear and forgiveness.

TAGLIST ࿀ ׁ @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto @jinxedly @seokjinthescientist @hoonprksung @eunvyue @kkxheeluv @enhawonnie @ghost-of-minnie @underscorealastor @yazmike @tokkisluv

[kxsagi]

HIIII sorry for literally flooding your inbox but I just remembered a convo I had with a classmate a few years ago. She posted like a photo and she was wearing men's boxers and she was like "Yeah it's pretty common for girls to wear guys boxers" and I was like ??? I learn something new everyday. Anyways! Can you imagine bllk boys (Or just isagi, or your other favs or anyone honestly I'm not picky 🫶🫶) that are dating you and then they come home to see you wearing their boxers and they're just like 😳😳??? Thank you! Love you and your works muah muah ♥️♥️

“𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐬”

a/n: boys’ boxers are mad comfy for no reason 

also thank you so much and i love you moreee, mwah mwah mwah!

(additionally, dear pretty readers, apologies for the lack of posts, i've been super busy lately so thank you for your patience! 🥹)

suggestive content inside! 

ft. itoshi rin, kaiser michael, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, mikage reo, bachira meguru

itoshi rin

he walks in post-training, dead tired and cranky, hoodie over his head and duffel bag hanging off his shoulder like he’s about to file a lawsuit against sunlight, but then he sees you. 

you. in his boxers. just his boxers. oversized, hanging loose on your hips, cinched up where the elastic clings to your skin. 

and you’re just standing in the kitchen like this is normal. like you’re not wearing the very same pair he had on two days ago. 

he stops in his tracks like he just walked in on a crime scene. “... what the hell are you wearing?” you blink. “your boxers. why?” “where are your clothes?” you smirk. “laundry.” 

rin looks like he’s buffering. he opens his mouth. nothing comes out. then finally: “you couldn’t just wear… pants?” “but these are yours,” you say sweetly. “they smell like you.” 

he turns red all the way to his ears. turns away. mutters something like “don’t say weird stuff,” but trips over his own duffel bag because he’s too busy looking at your thighs in the reflection on the microwave. 

he doesn’t say another word, just vanishes to the bathroom. (comes back five minutes later, dry-throated and slightly more disheveled.) 

(he’ll be requesting you wear those boxers again next time he’s home.) 

kaiser michael

kaiser walks in humming, coat slung over one shoulder, sunglasses still on because he’s him, obviously, and freezes when he sees you laying on the couch. in his boxers. legs sprawled, shirt half-riding up, scrolling on your phone like nothing is happening. 

he literally drops his jacket. 

"oh? ohhh? is this what we’re doing now?” 

he walks over dramatically and grabs the waistband, snapping it lightly against your skin with a grin. “you know those are mine, right? ‘cause they look illegal on you.” 

you look up innocently. “do they? i mean, they were just sitting in your drawer...” 

he leans down until he’s hovering above you. “yeah. and now i’m sitting on you. fair game.” 

kaiser’s brain is already in the gutter. fully immersed. 

starts fake-scolding you, “you’re corrupting me. corrupting my poor boxers. they were innocent–” “they have skulls and roses on them.” “innocent.” 

he keeps leaning closer and closer until you're giggling and shoving his face away. 

convinces you to let him take pictures for “research purposes,” but ends up just staring at them in his gallery like a down bad man. 

nagi seishiro

you didn’t expect nagi to come home early. 

so you’re just chilling in bed, snacks beside you, phone in hand, and wearing his boxers like pajamas. his soft gray ones. the kind he always says are his favorite. he walks in. sees you. and just. collapses. 

“... woah.” 

drops face first onto the mattress like a weighted corpse. wraps an arm around your waist and mumbles, “you look so good like this… it’s kinda unfair.” you snort. “they’re just boxers.” “yeah, and you made them sexy. how’d you do that?” 

he starts tracing his fingers over the waistband, tugging at it lazily. "they look better on you. keep ‘em." 

until he wants them back. then he’s like: “wanna trade? i wear yours, you wear mine, and we just never wear our own clothes again.” 

fully down to switch wardrobes. 

you call him a perv. he goes “mmm. true.” 

shidou ryusei

you wearing his boxers is equivalent to pressing the self-destruct button on shidou. 

he walks in, sees you in them, and physically stumbles backward. like you hit him with a truck. "HO-LY SHIT." hands on his head. mouth open. eyes wide. “you’re wearing those? babe, those are my tight ones.” 

he kneels like you’re some divine entity. "i am so blessed. i am so unworthy. oh my gosh–” you kick him lightly in the chest. he flops onto the floor like he’s been shot. 

“is this foreplay?” he asks, starry-eyed. “it feels like foreplay.” “i was just cleaning the house.” “well now i need cleansing because i’m having unholy thoughts.” 

he starts suggesting couples outfits made out of each other’s underwear. 

you’re crying from laughter. he’s genuinely taking notes. 

itoshi sae

you don’t think much of it, just slipped on his boxers after your shower and started folding laundry. 

he walks in, drops his keys, and just stares. doesn’t say a word. 

"hey," you greet casually. “...” "what?" "... i’m just wondering if you're trying to kill me.” 

he sounds bored. but he’s not. 

he’s looking you up and down like he’s trying to analyze exactly how you made boxers look like lingerie. 

you bend over to grab more laundry and he immediately looks away, like his own eyeballs betrayed him. 

mutters under his breath: “do that again and i’m not gonna be responsible for what happens.” 

he ends up walking around the apartment muttering curses and avoiding eye contact like he’s in catholic school. but the second you make a move toward the bedroom, he’s following. silently. with a mission. 

isagi yoichi

isagi comes home after a long, sweaty day of practice and finds you in the hallway. wearing his boxers and one of his practice shirts. his brain immediately blue screens. 

“h-hold on, uh… hi? wait, are those–” “your boxers? yeah.” he full-on chokes on his water bottle. 

he tries to play it cool. he fails. the man is red from his ears to his collarbone. 

"they look, uh, cute. no– you look cute. not that you don’t normally, but like, extra– not that i’m thinking weird stuff!!” (he is absolutely thinking weird stuff.) 

sits down on the couch and folds a pillow over his lap. watches you walk around the apartment like you’re a walking temptation. 

finally caves: “okay, but like… if you ever wanted to wear my jersey with them…” 

he’s got ideas. and regrets. and a very large blushing problem. 

mikage reo

reo does not handle it well. 

you think he would. he’s usually cool. confident. smooth. but the moment he walks in and sees you in his favorite pair, he physically stumbles like he forgot how to use his legs. 

he throws his keys. “OKAY??? MA’AM??” 

“relax, reo. they’re just boxers.” “just boxers? those are silk. they’re top tier. imported. limited edition. they cost like– actually, i forgot, but a lot.” “and now they’re mine.” 

he’s spiraling. spinning. taking mental photos. actual photos. 

“you can’t just be hot in my things and walk around like it’s not a whole event.” 

he’s pacing the room while ranting and complimenting you at the same time. 

“you good?” “no. absolutely not. take responsibility for what you’ve done.” 

next day, he buys you ten new pairs. all his size. all just for you. and he labels the drawer: “property of sugar baby (not up for debate)” 

bachira meguru

bachira walks in, eyes already wide and bright, and when he sees you in his boxers, he howls. throws his arms in the air and yells, “I WINNNNN!!” “what???” “I WIN IN LIFEEE!!” 

starts sprinting around the apartment, then dives onto the couch next to you. 

“meguru, calm down–” “no. i refuse. you’re wearing my boxers. i’m gonna cry. you look so good i’m gonna EXPLODE.” 

rubs his face into your thighs like a happy dog. 

asks you if he can borrow your clothes so he can “match the vibe.” 

comes out of the closet five minutes later wearing your shorts backwards and your crop top upside down. “do i look hot yet?” you laugh so hard you fall over. he falls with you. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 5 — JJK (m.)

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 15.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 some realizations and some jk and nb!oc lore. SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent & descriptive c*nniling*s (oral sex, female receiving) 🤩 ] also if u wanna know what her tat looks like this is it in my head

NOTES haii!! were back more than ever!! ive got nothing to say but enjoy!!!!!!! and lemme know ur thoughts in my inbox mwa mwamwa happy reading!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

The first time somebody told you they liked you was in year eight. You were only twelve, and there was this guy in year 10, Gwanshik, who apparently fancied you to be his girlfriend. You’ve had crushes way before entering middle school, but they were mostly just the guys you saw on your TV. When Gwanshik asked if you could both hang out together after school that one afternoon by the lockers, you remember saying no. 

No, because… the whole thing felt weird. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that a boy liked you in a romantic sense. You couldn’t wrap your head around going out with somebody and what… spend all your time together with them? It was too much for your twelve-year-old brain, and since then, you started avoiding Gwanshik as much as possible, and thankfully, he didn’t seem like he wanted to be with you that much because the “chasing” only lasted for two days. 

The two days felt contradictory, though. You sure didn’t want a relationship at the time, but it did make you feel something new. You felt… wanted. You didn’t even like Gwanshik. His hair was weird and he was two years older than you and your friend at the time told you he was going through a lot of girls – but those two days he tried to make an effort; tried to catch you at the lockers or waited outside of your classroom and even tried to buy you pudding for lunch, you felt… seen. You felt a sort of validation. Gwanshik made you feel special for all those two days until he decided you weren’t really worth his time. 

As much as you felt relieved that he wasn’t going after you anymore, there was some kind of bitterness that settled in your heart when he did stop pursuing you. 

That same bitterness crawls in your heart whenever you occasionally stalk an ex on Instagram from a burner account and see that they were seeing someone new again, and strangely enough, the same feeling finds its way in your chest when you watch Jungkook leading Heesu up to the podium with a hand hovering over her waist, a gentle smile painted on his lips as they go up to face the audience together. 

“They look good, don’t you think?” 

You almost jump at Taemu’s voice beside you, having completely forgotten he was there.

Tonight’s the company gala, a celebration for the Kang Tech and Blue Nexus collab that Jungkook and Heesu are leading. It’s only been about an hour, and you’ve pretty much been with Taemu the whole time.

“Y-yeah, they do,” you smile at him, nodding. You clear your throat before looking ahead again, sipping on the champagne you don’t like the taste of.  

“I heard they’re dating.” Taemu suddenly says, dropping into a whisper.

You don’t know how the words exactly register, but you feel slightly dissociative as you respond with, “Oh, are they?” 

Taemu nods, glancing back to the stage where Heesu starts to deliver a well-crafted speech. She looks absolutely magnificent, with a silver gown that fits her like a glove. Her long, silky hair stops at her waist, and the way she speaks grabs everybody’s attention in the room. 

“Nah, it’s just a rumor. But the Jeons and Kangs are close, though, and you know how that is.” 

You wish Taemu would stop talking. 

“Yep.” you give him a nod again, pursing your lips into a tight smile.

You try to drown out the conversation, listening in to the bits of Kang Heesu’s speech – something about innovation and future – and try to convince yourself that it ruffles your interest. But truthfully, you’d rather hear it than listen to some gossip Jungkook already disputed awhile ago.

It’s weird to have people carry these stories about him and his personal life – and you get how he can be a spectacle. He’s a Jeon, after all. His family is a conglomerate. But you know him… you know Jungkook. You value your friendship enough to know that he shouldn’t be a subject of people’s entertainment just because he comes from a certain lineage. 

As it’s his turn to speak, you can’t help but focus on him, and you mean in a way that everybody just suddenly blurs out, and it’s all Jungkook that only matters.

He’s wearing his usual black suit, and his long hair is slick this time unlike all the times in your apartment complex where it’s messy and he’s wearing some Nike slides and shorts.

And whoever said that the eyes can focus so much better than a camera consciously is going to hell because just as you thought about how Jungkook looks like a dream tonight – your gaze slides to the woman beside him once again, Kang Heesu.

Then, you can’t help but think that they really do look good together, as per Taemu’s words.

As per everybody’s words, and probably, thoughts.

Rumors aside, or if Jungkook hadn’t told you that they weren’t dating at all, you’d think they would make a visually striking couple. It’s there for everybody to see, and everyone in this room must think so definitely. They’re both young and work in the same industry and their families are close – it wouldn’t be a shock if they actually are a thing. 

You remember what you told Sol the past week. How Jungkook is majorly out of your league. You look at him now and sure, it’s the same person you hang out with back at home – the same man who laughs with his eyes crinkling, the same man who intently listens to you talking about whatever, and smiling shyly when you ask him about his day. The same man with admirable humility despite being him. 

But ultimately, his world is here. This grandiose, larger-than-life, world. 

And he looks so good in it.

“...Blue Nexus and Kang Tech as a team will continue to serve you going forward. Thank you.” 

Jungkook and Heesu smile in front of the crowd while they stand close together, and for a second, it almost feels like you’re watching from behind glass. The picture of the man in your apartment no longer feels like he was real, or that he could be.

You don’t say it out loud, but some part of you knows. Jungkook belongs here in a way you never will.

As Jungkook and Heesu wrap up their speech, the room fills with applause, and soon, the crowd starts to settle back into conversation and cocktails, and you’re just about to look around for Sol and Junhwi when Taemu calls your name.

You turn around to look at him. “Yes?”

“I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?” He asks with a small smile on his lips. 

You grimace inside at the question. 

“I’ll try to see if I am,” you tell him. Taemu’s face visibly drops, and you instantly feel bad. You don’t know why you do, but you scramble for something just as quickly. “My schedule’s a bit hard to work around this week, but I’ll text you. What’s it about, anyway?” 

You don’t miss the way Taemu’s smile picks up again at your promising words. 

“I have two tickets for a tech expo. We can go if you like?” He arches a brow at you, trying to gauge your face. 

You nod slowly. “That sounds interesting.” 

“Yeah, it is. Would be nice if you can go.” He sends you a somewhat sheepish smile.

You chuckle. 

“You’re not very subtle, are you?” 

“I don’t know. Which one do you like? Subtle or straightforward guys?” 

It prompts you to laugh some more, making Taemu join in. Somehow, the conversation puts you in place. Suddenly, you’re not thinking about Jungkook or Heesu or some Little Mermaid shit about how you’re not a part of his world.

You’re about to say something in response when your phone beeps in your purse. 

“One sec,” You hold up your hand while Taemu hums. Unexpectedly, a message from Jungkook welcomes you when you took your phone out and turned it on. 

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: Hey

Well maybe the Little Mermaid drama is not over just yet.

You look up at Taemu. “I’ll just…” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Taemu smiles and nods. “I’ll just go see Min for a bit. See you around, yeah?”

You give him a small smile, glancing at Min – someone from the same department as his – across the room, stepping back a little farther. When Taemu leaves, you turn your phone on again to type a reply. 

You [11:35pm]: hi

Not even a few seconds later, and Jungkook comes in with a response. 

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: I saw you just now. Was just about to say hi but you were talking to someone? 

You [11:35pm]: yeah. its taemu You [11:35pm]: remember my coworker

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:37pm]: Interesting 

Your brows furrow, intrigued.

You [11:37pm]: whats interesting abt it

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:38pm]: Nothing in particular 

You [11:39pm]: now thats interesting

You feel a certain curl to your stomach. It’s not unpleasant at all, just something you’d rather brush off. Jungkook can’t be jealous of Taemu of all people – and you can’t deduce that based off one text that says “interesting” in response to you saying you were just talking with Taemu.

Yeah. 

So you physically shrug it off. 

You [11:39pm]: but your speech is way more interesting. you look and sound great!! congrats on the launch btw!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: Thank you. And your emoji looks very interesting 

That earns a chuckle from you.

See, it was nothing. You think to yourself. Jungkook was not jealous and he’s just being his usual self.  

You [11:40pm]: its not an emoji its an emoticon 

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: That makes me very curious. Wanna hear more about it Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:41pm]: Come hang out with me

You almost thought you read that wrong. 

You [11:41pm]: here? 

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:42pm]: I’m at the rooftop actually. But I’ll come down there in a while. Where are you?

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you find yourself typing a reply, anyway. 

You [11:43pm]: ohh dont bother. I’ll come up there myself You [11:43pm]: would be nice to get some fresh air 🥴

When you head toward the elevator, you catch your reflection in the mirrored doors – hair a little messy from the night, heels already starting to hurt. You press the button anyway.

The wind blows your dress away and the cold of the night hits your bare skin as you navigate the empty space of the rooftop – which is not so empty anymore as you spot a tall figure by the glass railings, adorning a black suit. You could’ve mistaken it for anybody else as they all men at the party wear the same thing, but you couldn’t have taken Jeon Jungkook for anybody else. 

Not when even the lines of his back feel way too familiar by now.

You’re caught off guard, though, when he shifts slightly – just enough to raise a hand. At first, you don’t realize what he’s doing, until he takes a slow drag, and smoke slips around his head, curling into the air like it’s got nowhere else to be.

“Smoke break?” you say, breaking the silence as you walk toward him. You catch a whiff of it in the air.

“Oh, hey.” Jungkook turns to look at you, the cigarette tucked between his middle and pointer finger. From the looks of it, he must’ve lit it a while ago. When you glance back up at him, he offers a warm smile. “Do you want one?” he asks casually, reaching for the lapel of his jacket.

You shake your head before he can take out – presumably – a pack of cigarettes. You wouldn’t have guessed he had one tucked away earlier, not when he was standing on that podium, all polished and composed.

“I don’t smoke.”

Jungkook looks slightly taken aback. You’re about to ask why, but he just nods to himself and puts his hand back at his side. Then he flicks the cigarette away, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. The lingering smell clings to the air between you, but the breeze helps carry it off, little by little.

“You could be fined for littering, you know?” You joke. 

Jungkook’s mouth slacks as he looks at you again, and you’re sure he was about to retaliate, probably pick up your joke and keep the banter, but he disarms you when he speaks his next words.

“You look beautiful.” He says it low, his voice dipping a little deeper as his eyes trail down your body. If you’re not mistaken, his gaze lingers a second longer on your chest – and you remember, quite clearly, how grateful you were that you believed that one push-up bra ad on Instagram. It really did wonders with the square neckline of the dress.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You say, arching a brow. It makes Jungkook laugh. He walks towards a bench, and naturally, you follow. 

Jungkook’s the first to settle into his seat, and you try to ignore the way your heart does a weird little flip when he looks up at you, his hand instinctively lifting to hover over your back as you move to sit beside him.

And instantly, the cold of the night is whisk away by his warm presence. It’s not even that much, probably just an illusion, but Jungkook feels like a furnace on a winter night sometimes and you wonder how it’d feel like to bask in it. 

Maybe if you weren’t too drunk that night when you cuddled up together on his couch, you would’ve understood. You do remember, though, the very brief moment of his strong arms around you, tight but comfortable, big and strong… 

You shake your head internally.

Hah.

As much as you like to believe you can walk away from that memory like it was just another Tuesday, you can’t. Unfortunately. 

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

You’re not sure why you bring it up. Maybe it’s a way to keep things from feeling too… intimate, sitting this close to him. But the moment it slips out, it feels borderline personal – maybe even invasive – and you regret it almost instantly.

You’re just about to steer the conversation elsewhere when Jungkook leans back against the seat. The moonlight hits his face just right, the shadows of his lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks.

He really doesn’t look so bad himself, you think. But who are you kidding—he deserves a better compliment than that.

“I don’t smoke that much anymore. But these things…” Jungkook trails off, gaze flicking away for a second. You bite your lip, worried you might’ve touched something too personal.

But he keeps going. “These things take a lot out of me. Nerves. I don’t know. Big crowds stress me out. And they’re gonna publish articles about tonight, and maybe I’ve said this already, but I’ve never really liked public attention all that much.”

You blink up at him. 

It’s strange, because all this time, you’ve always claimed to know Jungkook – because, technically, you do. You’re friends. He knows about the cat you secretly kept from your landlord two years ago, knows that you hate your job, knows about the disposable chopsticks you hoard from different restaurants for absolutely no reason, knows that your Sunday uniform is that worn-out white Elmo shirt from high school, and knows your favorite color is baby blue.

He knows so many little things about you. So naturally, you should know him too… right?

But the thing is, as much as you think you do, you realize now – you’ve never actually known him past a certain point. He’s shared bits and pieces: how his favorite part of town is Hongdae, how he could eat bungeoppang for weeks. But aside from the surface-level stuff – the things you’ve asked about – he’s never really offered up anything deeper. Never really talked about himself in the ways that matter.

Like his job. How he got into it. The pressure that must come with it. Hell, you didn’t even know he smoked. That one really caught you off guard, because if there’s one thing you’ve always associated Jungkook with, it’s how damn good he smells.

But what really gets you isn’t the smoking. It’s the nerves. The fact that he gets nervous. Not that you thought he was above feeling something as basic as that – but he’s always carried himself with this kind of ease, this quiet confidence, like he knew exactly who he was and where he stood. It never occurred to you that someone like him could feel… less than sure. That he might need something, anything, to steady himself.

“I— yeah. That makes sense,” you nod, eyes fixed ahead, voice softer than before.

You’re still sitting beside the same Jungkook. Still in the same night air. But there’s something different now, something settling inside you that you can’t quite name. You’re learning these new pieces of him slowly, like catching glimpses of something just under the surface. And for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel so far away.

Maybe he never really was. Maybe it’s just that you were looking at him from a place too high up.

“Does it… does it get bad?” You ask gently. Jungkook looks at you curiously. “I mean, the press. I imagine you must’ve been bearing it since you were a kid.” 

Jungkook nods, and the smile he gives you next doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“My brother took most of the heat when we were young. When I was away in the US, they stopped bringing me up in the articles. And, uh…” he chuckles, settling a bit deeper into the seat. “I haven’t really told you about this yet, but I was never meant to work in the company. Until my brother decided to take up law—and there’s only two of us.”

You try not to look too surprised. “Oh…”

Jungkook crosses his arms, brow furrowing. “It was never going to be me, and I didn't take that well. Anyway, I sold my first software to Vision when I was a sophomore – the top rival of Blue Nexus until now. Pissed my dad off a lot because it became a huge success.” He snorts, but there’s no humor behind it.

You want to ask a million things. But something in his tone, the careful way he’s choosing his words, tells you not to push. So you stay quiet. You let him speak on his own terms.

You’re not oblivious to the gossip surrounding Jungkook and Mr. Jeon. You’ve overheard your fair share of whispers tonight – speculations about why “Mr. Jeon’s son is only interim CTO,” or when he’s going to finally hand over the reins to his son. Everyone talks about it like it’s inevitable. Like it’s some corporate fairytale they’re waiting to unfold.

But instead of digging into that, you glance at Jungkook, voice gentle.

“What’s he like? Your dad, I mean…”

It takes him a moment.

“He’s a tough man,” Jungkook says, breathing in sharply. You see his shoulders stiffen. “But I still really want him to be proud of me. It’s a complicated feeling. This is why I get too nervous about this stuff. I take pride in my work, I like what I do, you know— but sometimes…”

“Sometimes…” you echo softly.

“Sometimes I think I could do better.”

Your heart presses against your ribs, caught in a mix of protectiveness and ache.

You don’t think. Your words just come out.

“I think you’re doing great, Jungkook,” you say, voice quiet but sure. Your hand lifts instinctively to rest on his shoulder, but you hesitate halfway and pull it back to your lap instead. “I mean… I haven’t studied the technicalities of your work yet – pun intended – but I think you’re really good at what you do. People can see the effort you put into the things you care about. I don’t know about your dad, but I think that’s… really admirable.”

There’s a pause. And then another.

You start to spiral. Maybe you said too much. Maybe he didn’t want reassurance, just someone to listen. You should’ve asked first. Should’ve waited to see if he even wanted your opinion. God. He probably didn’t need a pep talk tonight of all nights—

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks, __. You’re the first one to tell me I’m doing a good job so far.”

Your jaw drops slightly. What?

It must’ve slipped out loud, because Jungkook laughs – really laughs, his chest shaking with it. It’s the first time all night that he’s sounded truly unguarded.

“Yeah. I appreciate it,” he says again, softer this time.

“Really?” you blink. “That’s… tough, bro.”

“Bro?” he says, incredulous. You nod solemnly. “You’re cute,” he murmurs.

You feel the warmth flood your cheeks instantly.

“Hey,” you say, needing to shift the moment. Jungkook hums in response. “You know that feeling when you’re in high places – like rooftops – and you get the weird urge to jump?”

Jungkook raises a brow. “That’s… concerning.”

You wave him off. “No, not like that. It’s not suicidal or anything. Just… this curious impulse.”

“There are literally a thousand movies that show what happens when you jump off tall buildings,” he says dryly.

“Well, duh.” You roll your eyes. He laughs again, and you notice something unspoken in the way his posture eases. The tension he carried earlier seems to slowly dissolve into the night air. It makes you smile, quietly pleased that maybe, somehow, you helped.

“You know what I’m thinking right now?” you ask.

He eyes you warily. “I hope you’re not gonna say you want us to jump.”

“Close,” you scoot closer, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he seems to lean into it. “I was thinking more land activities. Maybe we should go around town.”

“Right now?”

You make a face. “I mean, you might be busy.”

“I already socialized enough to last me through next month. I’m fried.” Jungkook sighs, and it’s so genuinely weary that you almost laugh. But you bite back a grin instead. “You wanna go for a drive?” he asks.

You flash him a bright smile, and with no hesitation, tell him, “I’d love that.”

They say when you’re having too good of a day, time flies fast.

You didn’t know Jungkook liked bands. And you definitely didn’t know he could sing. You’re not keeping track, but it’s been about two hours since the two of you slipped away from the party – armed with a stolen bottle of champagne and a badly packed plate of hors d'oeuvres, thanks to Jungkook, who remembered you saying you liked their mini quiches.

You didn’t really have a destination in mind when you left. Every time Jungkook asked where you wanted to go, you just shrugged and said, wherever – until the car eventually rolled to a stop on an unfamiliar street that smelled like salt and sea.

You both realized you were by the beach the moment you cracked open the doors and stepped out of the car.

“This is perfect,” you say, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face. “It’s been so long since I’ve gone to the beach.”

“You know where we are?” Jungkook asks, falling into step beside you.

The beach isn’t anything extravagant – just sand and sea – but the breeze is crisp, the air smells clean, and something about the quiet feels right.

“I have no clue,” you admit, glancing at him with a grin. “But it’s nice here, right? Who cares?”

Jungkook eyes you like he’s about to object, but then he just chuckles under his breath.

There’s a narrow bridge up ahead that leads to a small staircase descending onto the sand. You head toward it with a bounce in your step, eager to feel ground crunch beneath your heels. As soon as your foot touches the first step, you feel a hand gently settle against your back.

“Careful,” Jungkook murmurs behind you.

It’s just a reminder. A quiet one. But the brush of his palm against your dress, the low dip in his voice – it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the weather.

You shake it off quickly and make it down to the sand. The sea is calm, the tide gently kissing the line of black sand just a few meters from where you stand. 

“It’s freezing,” you mutter, hugging your arms to your chest. “This doesn’t make any sense. It’s supposed to be summer.”

You gather up the skirt of your dress and plop down on a patch of dry sand. Jungkook follows, but before he settles beside you, he slips off his suit jacket and holds it out.

“Oh, no. I’m okay,” you say quickly, shaking your head and gesturing for him to keep it.

He pauses. “Do you know how many people die from hypothermia?”

“Like… twenty-five?”

“No. Twenty-four thousand a year.”

Your eyes shoot wide. “Wait. No fucking way. In South Korea? Or globally?”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a beat – then cracks up, grinning as he doubles over slightly from laughing. “Yeah, okay. No. I just made that up.”

You squint at him in disbelief. “Wow… you got jokes now.”

He just shakes his head, still grinning, clearly pleased with himself. You throw him a mock glare, but it doesn’t last long – not when he nudges a mini quiche toward you like a peace offering.

You reach for the bottle of champagne, only to realize you have nothing to pour it into, until Jungkook, already reading you like a book, says, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Jungkook watches as you chug on the bottle, and thank god he got the white wine because red wine makes you drunk and you aren’t planning on getting drunk tonight – especially not with your track record.

You pass the bottle to Jungkook, looking ahead to watch the dark of the night. It’s probably around 2 am at this point, but you don’t bother confirming because why would you? It doesn’t matter what time it is, anyway. It feels like you’ve been in a tight spot all week, and today is the reward of all that. 

You realized you haven’t taken time to relax at all. The past few months had just been work, work, and work – as if you’re completely succumbing to your fate of being a corporate slave.

“It’s nice, right? You’re having fun?” you ask Jungkook, turning your body to him. 

You guess it’s easy to assume Jungkookls got everything under control. It’s in the way he carries himself – so quietly confident, so composed, like the weight of the world never quite touches him. He didn’t lay it all out for you back at the party, but you understood very well. You heard what he meant when he spoke about his father, about his work, about everything that makes him feel like he’s constantly trying to measure up. 

He gets overwhelmed, too.

Contrary to what you believed – what you’ve told yourself all this time – Jungkook is just like anyone else. He’s human. He doubts. He tries.

It’s a shame the thought has only clicked into your head now. Because you were so sure that pedestal you put him on was where he rightfully belonged. You were so certain that the distance between you and him wasn’t something that could be crossed. That he was out of reach.

But here you are. Sitting next to him on a beach you can’t name, under a sky full of stars that don’t care who’s who. And you’re realizing – again – maybe you were wrong.

You feel bad, honestly. Because Jungkook’s been nothing but good to you. Better than good, if you’re being honest. He’s been kind, thoughtful. Present in ways that surprised you.

And he likes you.

At least… he said he does.

You haven’t processed it that much, ever since that night of his… confession passed.

It’s not the first time somebody said it to you. And it’s certainly not the first time you feel conflicted about it, because you’ve always been weird about relationships – or men, in general. You haven’t been in any therapy except for Jimin’s bimonthly honest feedback about your “avoidant coping mechanism” because ”you somewhat are afraid to love someone and have someone love you back so you cope by joking about how men are not all that and when you break up with someone you tell me it was not that serious”. You never retaliated with any of those because you know they were all true. You’ve had two serious boyfriends in your life, and none of them lasted for longer than a year. 

They may have had problems of their own, but you always knew what it was with yours. 

You get easily scared. You get scared about the possibility of you growing more feelings for a person – get scared at the prospect that you might want them to be in your life forever.

And god, forever is such a long time. And the future scares you a ton more than you’d like to admit.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in months. I’m glad you made us skip the party.” Jungkook responds to your question. 

“I did not make us skip the party,” you laugh, prompting Jungkook to do so as well. You look at the calm waves, and suddenly you get the urge to stand up. It just looks so inviting, and so you can’t help but stand on your feet, making Jungkook look up at you. He watches you curiously as you take off your heels. You gesture to him to follow you. “Come on up here.”

He eyes you warily. “Are you…” 

You shake your head immediately. “What, no. I’m not swimming. Just gonna dip my toes in the water,” you look far ahead. And true to your words, the sea really does look inviting. “It looks really good.” But when you drop your gaze back to Jungkook, he still looks unsure. You roll your eyes. “Afraid to get a little dirty, Mr. Jeon?” 

He narrows his eyes at that. You challenge him with a raised brow. Then, with a scoff, Jungkook stands up from the makeshift blanket that’s really just his suit jacket and begins to tug off his leather shoes—

Hold up.

“You wear toe socks,” you deadpan, blinking at the sight like it’s physically hard to process.

“Huh? Oh— yeah.” Jungkook looks up from his feet to your face, confused for half a second before realization hits. “Okay, I know what you’re gonna say. My friends already clown me about this a lot.”

You can’t help it – you burst out laughing. It’s loud, full-bodied, and totally ungraceful. Jungkook just stands there with his lips pressed into a thin line, expression resigned, like this isn’t his first toe sock trial and probably won’t be his last.

You snicker behind your hand and turn toward the shoreline, still giggling as you walk. Jungkook follows a beat later, not looking the least bit offended by your reaction.

“I just don’t get it,” you manage through your laughter. “Why do you have gloves for your toes? Does that not give you the ick?”

“A glove for my toes?” Jungkook repeats, incredulous. A laugh escapes him. “What the hell?”

“Yeah! It’s literally the same concept. Gloves are uncomfortable as hell. Are you sure you willingly wear toe socks?”

“If I didn’t, would I be wearing them now?”

“Exactly! So you do it on purpose. That’s wild.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Hater much?”

“Through and through,” you grin, shaking your head. “How did I not know this sooner? You did—”

You nearly trip as your foot slips on the soft, uneven slope of sand. But Jungkook’s hands are already at your waist, steadying you before you can fall.

“Told you to be careful,” he murmurs, voice light with amusement.

You snort and push lightly against his abdomen. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Toe Sock.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and the two of you continue down the shore, moving closer to the sea. The air grows cooler as you approach the water, waves whispering along the sand like a quiet soundtrack to the moment.

“You actually remind me of my mom. She wore toe socks too.” you say suddenly, rendering Jungkook surprised beside you. But when you look at him, there’s a hint of a small smile on his face.

“Even your mom knows the drill,” Jungkook brags, prompting you to roll your eyes but you laugh anyway.

You bunch up your dress to your legs as you start dipping your feet into the water, a little surprised at the cold temperature even though you expected it already. It is still August, after all.

Jungkook follows, and you walk straight along the shoreline.

“You mind talking about her?” Jungkook asks suddenly, making you look at him. 

You shake your head. “Not really. I love talking about my mom. She was a wonderful person.” you say truthfully, the words bringing a melancholic smile to your face. 

“I’m sure she must have been.” Jungkook tells you with conviction.

“How are you so sure?” you can’t help but laugh.

Jungkook shrugs. “She has you as her daughter.” 

“Hah!” Your laughter only becomes louder. “That’s really… that’s a good line.”

Jungkook only shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a shy smile on his face when he looks away. He can be really cute sometimes; such a walking contradiction, really. 

“What about your mom?” You ask.

“She’s just as wonderful. My brother and I are close with her.”

You nod. You assumed that a while ago, but it oddly makes you feel good that Jungkook does indeed have a good relationship with his mother. It was cute, because the way he smiles when he talks about his mom tells you she’s really important to him. 

“And… your dad?” You tread lightly, not sure about bringing him up again. 

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind when he says, “He loves and adores mom, and I admire him a lot for that. He’s just… he just has a lot of expectations when it comes to his children, and it gets a little too overwhelming.” 

You quietly hum at that.

Strange, really. How some people love differently.

“I once saw him before, you know?” You tell Jungkook, and he looks at you, intrigued. You nod, adding, “He looked really intimidating.” you give Jungkook a hesitant smile; he nods his head in understanding. “Anyway, I didn’t see him tonight. Did he come?” 

Jungkook just gives you a smile. “I don’t think so. Not sure.”

You don’t question it further. You’ve made a lot of assumptions about Jungkook, but hearing the truth from him – it’s different. Like opening Pandora’s box, only to find something softer inside. There’s something oddly comforting about it. You’re talking about things that don’t usually come up, and it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Just easy. And for once, it feels good to open up to someone who actually seems to care – not out of obligation, but out of genuine interest.

“What about you? What was your mom like?” Jungkook asks, walking beside you with his hands crossed behind his back.

“She was an angel. But I…” you hesitate, “I grew up hating her for half my life.”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze shift to you, but you keep your eyes ahead. You like talking about your mom – just not this part.

“You don’t know a lot when you’re a kid. I hated her because we were poor, and I thought it was because I didn’t have a dad. Every family day at school, kids would show up with both their parents. I was always just with her. And being an only child made everything feel even lonelier. I guess I blamed her for that.”

There’s a bitter smile tugging at your lips. Jungkook stays quiet, and you’re thankful for that – for not rushing to speak. For simply listening.

“She never talked about my dad. I never asked either. She just never brought him up. Then when I turned eighteen, I finally asked if she knew where he was. She just said he wasn’t a good man. She didn’t elaborate, but I didn’t need her to. I understood. And I think that was the moment I started realizing how good I actually had it with her.” You smile faintly at the memory. “She sewed me clothes. Made my lunch every day. And she’d bring home these snacks from her job at the factory – these crunchy peanuts. I don’t know if you’ve ever had them…”

“You mean Ojingeo?”

You shake your head, amused. “No, not those. Those are the squid peanuts, right? Mine was sweet. Not spicy.”

Jungkook squints thoughtfully. “Damn, I think I know what you’re talking about… Oh! Matdongsan?”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah! Matdongsan! Do they still make that today?”

“I’m not really sure,” Jungkook says, shaking his head with a little frown.

“Oh well…” You shrug and keep walking. “Anyway, my mom. She gave me everything she could, even when I didn’t know how to appreciate it.”

You wince, looking away, that guilt still tucked away in the corners of your chest. You remember the tantrums, the slamming of doors, the silent treatment; all the ways you lashed out, thinking it was just part of growing up.

“She started getting sick during my third year of college. We found out too late that it was breast cancer. The doctors did everything they could, but…” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. “She didn’t make it. She passed away four years ago. Right after I graduated.”

You take a sharp breath, blinking rapidly to push back the stinging in your eyes. It’s been a while since you cried over your mom. You’ve made peace with the grief, mostly. But sometimes – like now – it creeps back in, catching you off guard.

“I think what hurt the most was realizing how much time I thought we’d still have. When you’re a kid, you just assume your parents will be there forever. You think you’ll grow up, get your first job, bring someone home for dinner – and they’ll be there for all of it. But life doesn’t really work like that.”

You swallow, glancing up at the stars that have begun to peek out from the clouds above the sea.

“I was still so young. I didn’t get to spend enough time with her. Not the kind I wanted, anyway.”

You don’t say the rest. That losing her changed something in you. That maybe it’s why you hesitate with relationships. Why you carry every goodbye with a little more weight than necessary – why you try to avoid them as early as possible; and it means avoiding getting too close to somebody.

“That’s tough, __. I’m really sorry you went through that,” Jungkook says softly. He stops walking, and you feel his hand hover behind your back – so close it makes your skin tingle with the anticipation of comfort. But he doesn’t touch you.

Still, it’s enough.

You try to lighten the mood, groaning, “God, I’m totally killing the vibe, huh?”

Jungkook immediately shakes his head, firm. “No. Never.”

You turn to look at him, and he’s looking at you like he means it. Like you didn’t just ruin anything. Like your story mattered.

You smile. And somehow, you really believe him.

You take a deep breath,

“Mom was really funny, though. So, she wore toe socks, right? And I was kind of repulsed by them so she made sure to add it to my laundry when it was my turn doing it, especially when I gave her a tantrum during that day.”

Jungkook chuckles at the story, visibly amused. “She did?” 

“Yeah, she was secretly vindictive as hell,” you shake your head as Jungkook’s laughter becomes louder. It was the kind of laugh where it’s bordering on wheezing, and you can’t help but join in too.

“How are you repulsed by toe socks?” Jungkook looks at you incredulously. “Wait– are you still repulsed by them? Are you repulsed by me now?”

You waved your hand at him dismissively. “No, you’re fine. I’m a grown up now. I’ve overcome my toe socks trauma.” 

“That’s goddamn good to know.” He says with a tone of relief, comical in the way he puts a hand to his chest for added effect. “I don’t know what I’d do if you’re still that against toe socks. I’m not sure if I can give them up just yet.” 

“Why would you give it up for me?” you snort. 

“Dunno. I’m kind of a __-pleaser.” 

You blink. “Jungkook.”

His grin widens, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out. “God, you’re such a flirt.”

“Am I really?” he says, tilting his head, voice all playful innocence.

You squint your eyes at him. He squints back, mirroring you with a teasing glint. Then, slowly, you bend down, fingers dipping into the sea – just enough to send a quick splash of water his way.

You expect a tiny splash. A harmless flick. But what hits Jungkook’s white shirt is a little more than you intended. Your eyes widen as the damp spot spreads across the crisp fabric.

Oh no. That’s probably designer. Tailored. Definitely expensive.

Before you can blurt out an apology, Jungkook moves faster than you can register, and suddenly, cold water smacks against your dress and hair. You gasp.

“Oh my god.” You stare at him, scandalized. “You did not.”

He raises his hands up, and he chuckles at the look on your face. When he sees you bending down again, he doesn’t make the mistake of waiting on you and immediately walks faster, effectively keeping himself a few feet away from you so he can avoid your expected attack. 

Too bad he doesn’t run.

You scoop up a handful of seawater and hurl it at his back. Bullseye. Jungkook throws his head back in feigned betrayal, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Oh, that wasn’t very nice,” he warns. 

You don’t wait for retaliation. You take off running, the cool night air rushing past you as laughter bubbles from your chest. You can hear his footsteps behind you, and you scream-laugh when his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you right off the ground.

“Jungkook!” you shriek between fits of laughter, squirming in his grip. But he’s strong – gentle, but determined – and you’re too breathless to fight him off.

“You’re gonna regret that, little miss devil,” he tsks, carrying you like a sack of mischief as he heads toward the water.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” you plead, kicking lightly.

“Too late,” he says, walking deeper. You can feel the cold moisture from his clothes seeping into you as he holds you close.

“Jungkook, we’re gonna soak your car when we get back.”

“My shirt’s already ruined.”

“You have your coat!”

“You started it.”

“I’ll bite you if you don’t put me down. I have my canine teeth.”

“Go ahead.”

“Jungkook!” You bury your face into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, your giggles muffled against his skin. “Okay, okay! If you want to paddle in the water, let’s do it – but let’s take off our clothes first.”

That stops him. Completely.

His steps halt mid-surge, his arms frozen around you as your words settle between the two of you like a stone dropped into calm water.

“What?” 

“What?” you parrot back.

Jungkook cranes his neck to look up at you. “Are you telling us to take a skinny dip?” 

You bite your lip to not laugh at the incredulity written all over his face.  You squint your eyes at him, noting the look on his face. It’s looking quite nervous. “You’re afraid to get naked?” 

Jungkook scoffs, then… he chuckles.

“I’m most certainly not. Are you?” He says, sounding like he’s challenging you for something.

You arch your brow. “I’m most certainly not.” you mirror his words back to him, effectively making him laugh. “We don’t really have to be naked, though. I’ll just take off my dress. We’re already wet anyway, so…?” 

It takes awhile for Jungkook to say something. Then, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.” 

“What?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling a little too much. 

“What if somebody sees us?”

You jut your bottom lip out. “Jungkook, it’s probably 2 am at this point. Nobody’s awake except for weird sea creatures. I didn’t take you for a wuss.” 

Jungkook cackles. 

“Fuck me.” you clearly hear him whisper to himself. Slowly, you feel his hands letting you down until your feet once again get into contact with the sand.

You look at Jungkook expectantly once you face him. “Well?” you say, gesturing with a flick of your hand. “Turn around. I’m gonna take my dress off.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh but doesn’t move immediately. His gaze lingers on your face for a second longer than necessary, eyes shining with something unreadable. “It’s only fair if you turn around too,” he says, crossing his arms but giving in to a small smile.

You roll your eyes, but you turn your back anyway, fingers quickly locating the side zipper of your dress. The fabric loosens and slips from your shoulders with ease, falling into a soft heap around your ankles. Cool air kisses your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering from Jungkook’s touch.

You breathe in through your nose, silently thanking your past self for wearing a decent pair of underwear – a beige strapless push-up bra and matching panties. Not your sexiest, but it’s not humiliating either. You remind yourself this isn’t about seduction – it’s about spontaneity. The water felt amazing even though it was freezing but who cares! This was something out of someone’s bucket list, right? Skinny dipping at fuckass o’clock in the morning. Given, it’s not actually skinny-dipping… you’ve only ever done the real thing with Jimin from a trip years ago but it was in a pool so it didn’t count.

You feel pretty good about yourself until you turn around just as the same time Jungkook does. 

And holy fuck. 

You freeze. 

You’ve seen Jungkook’s body before. Of course you have. But never like this. Never up close, never with this much bare skin and moonlight involved. His white shirt is gone, revealing an inked arm and lean muscle that tightens across his torso with every breath. But it’s his legs – his thighs – that make your breath hitch. The way they’re shaped, carved like he’s spent a lifetime training without ever trying too hard. Your eyes trail lower before your brain can stop them, and they land on the bulge beneath his black Calvin Kleins.

You snap your gaze up too fast.

“Your tattoo looks good,” Jungkook says.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. Not because of what he says, but because it’s so obvious he caught you staring. And worse: he doesn’t seem fazed by it.

You glance down, catching the curve of ink that hugs your ribs. Your underboob piece.

“Oh. That one,” you say, clearing your throat as you angle your body slightly, fingertips brushing along your side. “Yeah. That’s what I told you about before.”

The piece goes from right under your boob to the side of your rib. It was quite a big one actually, but the tattoo is as wispy as it can get; a delicate image that curves along the ribcage – fine lines forming soft leaves and petals. It’s subtle and graceful, just like you wanted it to be.

Jungkook is still staring when you look back up. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s just now realizing he should say something.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. And it’s not just the tattoo he’s looking at.

You shift, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is lit by the moonlight. “Thanks. I planned it for weeks. The artist and I talked a lot about what I wanted. He was really talented.” You adjust your chest a little so you can take a better look of your tattoo. You swear it takes a bit of your time when you’re in the shower or you’re changing in front of the mirror because you almost always have to admire your piece whenever you see it.

“He?” Jungkook repeats.

You’re caught off guard, but you nod anyway. “Hm.”

A pause. Then: “When did you get it?”

“Two years ago. Same time Jimin got his moon phase tattoo. You’ve seen that one?”

“No. Just the others.”

“Oh, you will,” you chuckle. “He’ll show it to you whether you ask or not.”

Jungkook grins, but it’s quieter now. His hands brush off the backs of his thighs before he turns and lays his clothes down on the sand. You do the same, carefully folding your dress over the top of his shirt like it might protect it somehow. The silence between you is suddenly soft now, turning intimate.

When you meet his eyes again, you smile. And somehow, when he meets your gaze, you feel as if there’s a wire pulled taut between you – stretched thin and aching to snap.

You turn first, bare feet pressing into the cold sand as you walk toward the dark, inviting water. The night air nips at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the rush of heat pooling low in your stomach.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook follow.

You reach the shoreline, waves licking your ankles. The water is freezing. Your breath hitches at the sensation, but you walk further in, just until it reaches your knees, then stop to turn to look back at him.

“Well?” you ask, voice soft and challenging. “Coming in, or are you just gonna stand there?”

Jungkook steps forward and walks straight into the water like it’s nothing, like he hadn’t hesitated at all, like this was his idea in the first place.

The waves lap against your skin as he closes the distance between you. 

You wade further in, letting the water climb your body inch by inch until it hugs your ribs. “Ohh,” you gasp with genuine surprise. “The water’s actually warm over here.”

Jungkook raises a brow as he hears that. Trudging deeper, he takes a few steps behind you. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a grin. “It’s nice.” The word rolls out of your mouth like you’re savoring it. You lift your hands, gathering a small pool of water, and send a playful splash in his direction.

The water hits his face. His bangs drip instantly.

You laugh at the sight. There’s a frown that twitches on his lips as he tries to blink the saltwater out of his eyes.

And then he retaliates.

He flings water back at you with enough force to wet your hair this time, and your laughter erupts again, echoing over the waves. “Didn’t expect you to be so vindictive,” you call out between splashes, paddling away from him in slow strokes. “I thought you were sweet.”

“Didn’t expect you to be so mean,” Jungkook shoots back, and the grin you see on his teasing face tugs something sweet inside your chest.

It turns into this ridiculous game – splashing, dodging, laughing. The moonlight glints on the ripples between you, and every now and then, when you’re not dunking water in each other’s faces, you catch the way his eyes linger just a bit too long. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. It’s not uncomfortable. It just simmers there, under the surface like heat waiting to rise.

As you paddle further, you feel the ground slope under your feet and lift slightly, weightless now, the water just above your chest. You let out a breath and spin in place lazily, floating.

“Jungkook!” you call out, voice light, “Come here!”

He does, wading close until you're barely a few feet apart. He stops right where the water reaches his collarbones, droplets rolling down his throat.

You swim toward him instinctively, arms slicing through the water, and when you get close enough, you reach up and loop your arms around his shoulders.

You feel Jungkook stiffen for a brief second, seemingly surprised by the sudden closeness. But you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively come to your waist, steadying you.

“I’m hitching a ride,” you say breezily.

“What?”

“I wanna piggyback,” you grin, already hopping onto him, locking your legs around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook lets out a huff of a laugh, almost startled. But he catches you easily, arms adjusting around your thighs to hold you steady. His hands are warm even underwater, and your chest is pressed so close to his back. So close you can hear every shallow breath.

“God, you’re shameless,” he mutters, but his voice is low and there’s a smile there – something fond, and maybe something even… dangerous.

“And you’re acting like you mind,” you murmur near his ear, smiling into his shoulder.

The water sways around you, wrapping both your bodies. It’s playful. It’s soft. But it’s also charged – like every second poses a dare for either one of you to cross a line.

You tighten your grip around his neck, your cheek brushing against his. “It’s getting cold again,” you whisper, shivering against him. “Jungkook, it’s getting cold.”

“I thought you wanted to be in the water.”

“Don’t turn this around on me.” You whine, lips brushing against his neck in your exaggerated pout. He cranes his head slightly, and you’re close enough now to count the droplets sliding down his temple. “Let’s go back,” you say, voice softer now.

He nods. “Alright.”

But just as you think he’s about to carry you back, you feel him start to lower your legs.

“Jungkook, what the hell!” you yelp, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“You said let’s go back,” he says innocently, though the glint in his eye says otherwise.

“Swear to god, if you drop me, I’ll bite you. And it won’t be pretty. I have my canine teeth.”

He laughs, the sound echoing across the water. “Okay, okay— relax. I’m not dropping you, princess.”

He readjusts his hold, and you sigh in exaggerated relief, letting your arms wrap loosely around his neck again. The journey back is slow, quiet, and for a second, you almost forget you’re wearing nothing but wet underwear. That is, until your feet touch the shore again and the sea releases you both back to reality.

You let Jungkook lower you down, suddenly aware of how much skin is on display. You turn slightly, trying to avoid looking directly at him – though that doesn’t stop you from noticing how good he looks, wet boxers clinging to his thighs, moonlight catching on his skin.

God, get a grip.

“Here,” he says, offering your dress with a slight smile.

“Oh. Thanks.” You take it, fingers brushing his for a beat longer than necessary.

“I’ll give you some space,” he says, turning around just in time for you to see him start stripping his boxers off.

“Jesus christ, Jungkook. Warn a girl next time,” you squeak, spinning around like your life depends on it.

You hear him laugh, which makes you laugh as well. And it’s stupid, but it feels natural.

“I’m taking off my underwear. Don’t look,” you call over your shoulder.

“Hmm. No promises,” he replies with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes and get to work, yanking off your bra and panties with more urgency than grace, tugging your dress back on as fast as you can. You’re nearly done when you hear his voice again.

“Done?”

“Almost,” you reply, quickly shoving your wet underwear into a ball.

You finally turn around just as Jungkook, now fully clothed again, offers his suit jacket.

“Here. In case you get cold.”

You hesitate for a split second before taking it. “Thanks.”

The jacket smells like him, and you pull it tighter around you before saying anything else. There's still water clinging to your skin, and when you glance at Jungkook, his shirt is sticking to him in places, outlining muscle like it’s got something to prove.

You try not to notice. You fail.

“I’m still wet,” you mutter under your breath before realizing what you just said.

He raises a brow, and you both burst out laughing.

“For the record, I’m also still wet,” Jungkook adds with a smirk.

You don’t even have it in you to respond. Just a groan and a shake of your head as you both start walking.

The walk back to his car isn’t long, but it feels like a slow return to reality. You glance over at Jungkook once you’re near enough, wordlessly telling him to unlock the car. He gets the message, patting his jacket pocket like it’s muscle memory. Then the other one. Then his pants.

“Shit.” 

You startle at the curse that slips out of Jungkook’s mouth. He does not usually do that, like at all.

“What?” you ask back, looking at him curiously. 

“I think I left my keyfob in the driver’s seat.”

Your jaw slacks. “Are you serious?”

”Hold on just a sec,” Jungkook tells you, taking a few strides over to his car. He pats his trousers again, but just like a few moments ago, he doesn’t seem to find anything. 

You walk towards his direction as Jungkook lowers his head to look through the window of the driver’s seat, and when you stop by his side, he lets out a low cuss again.

You’ve never heard him say so many expletives in the entire time you’ve known him.

”It’s inside the car?”

Jungkook nods, and you can feel yourself starting to worry when he glances back at you, saying, “Did you have your phone with you or something?” 

“N-no.” you’re flustered as you stare at him. 

Jungkook looks like he expected that already. But he nods again, anyway, stepping back a little from the car.

”Any chance you know where we are?” He looks around, and at the very least you’re thankful that he seems cool and collected. 

Because if you were not panicking already, you definitely are now. 

“Not right now, no,” you shake your head. “You don’t have your phone with you either or something?”

“I didn’t take it with me when we went down to the shore.” 

“So all our things are in there.” You realize as you stare inside his car. 

Fuck. You remember exactly how the two of you agreed to leave all your stuff inside to avoid losing any of them at the beach, just in case. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Says Jungkook as he rounds the car about. He checks his trunk and you see him poking his tongue through his cheek, visibly wincing afterwards. “We can’t access the seats through the trunk.” 

Which means you can’t access the car in any way. 

You’re cold and you’re frazzled as you try to process the trajectory of the events tonight. 

“__,” Jungkook calls gently. You look at him wide-eyed. “Is it fine if we walk around for a bit until we find a telephone or something? I could do it but I don’t want to leave you alone here.” 

“That’s fine.” 

Jungkook might’ve seen how worried you are that he quickly goes to reassure you, “We got it. I’m really sorry for forgetting about my keys.” 

At that, you quickly shake your head, feeling bad that he even had to tell you that.

“No, it’s fine. Not your fault. I should have reminded you about the door too…” you trail off because at the end of the day, you’re both stuck here because you forgot to pay attention to the important details. 

Well, there goes your fun night. All going down the drain because you’re gonna be stuck.

You hope you do pass by a telephone booth or something, though. 

Do they still even make those nowadays?

“It’s kind of a quiet part around this town, no?” Jungkook observes as he looks around while you both start walking. 

You hum, but you remember something, “Wait, Kook, your car. What about it?” you look back in worry at the vehicle parked across the road. 

“I’ll call a car locksmith once we get a phone. That okay?”

Jungkook’s voice is so gentle and sweet you’re honestly confused how he’s so calm about the situation while you’re thinking about so many different things in your head it’s like your body is separated from your mind as you try to match his walking pace.

It’s eerily quiet, and there are barely lamp posts around the area to illuminate your path. 

You stay close to Jungkook, and somehow, he radiates a sort of warm heat that makes it bearable for you to walk for another few minutes. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks after awhile.

Since when did this country start running out of provision shops that are open for 24 hours? Why is it that suddenly, you can’t even see a sign of civilization?

Where the hell are you guys? 

“Right now I’m thinking of ten ways we can both get killed but that’s not a big deal,” you say as you nibble on your bottom lip. Then you sigh. “I’m really, really, geographically challenged. Even Sol can’t figure out why I still hesitate sometimes if the pantry area is on the left or right side of the office and I’ve been in the company for over three years.” You take a deep breath again, looking at Jungkook with worried eyes. “Anyway, the point is… can you still remember where we came from? Because I unfortunately can’t help you with that.”

You send him an apologetic look, and you feel bad, you really do. But it’s not your fault that geography is not your forte! And it’s not your fault either they had no budget for lamp posts or random telephone booths. 

Dwelling in that thought, you don’t notice Jungkook’s stricken expression for a moment at your sudden outburst of a confession, but soon he shakes his head, giving you a reassuring rub on your shoulder as he responds with, “I can still remember it, don’t worry.”

You almost let a sigh out of relief. 

“Hey, it’s alright, hm? We’ll go home.” Jungkook says again when you don’t say anything. 

You nod. 

Well, that indeed feels reassuring. 

You’re freaking out.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks.

“No— I’m fine. I just… my feet kind of hurt in these heels,” you finally reply.

You’d imagined a brief five‐minute walk before encountering a telephone, but every shop is closed and there’s nowhere to borrow a phone. After twenty minutes in your party heels – hardly designed for even a level walk – you’re paying the price.

Still, you try to keep your frustration at bay. You remind yourself there’s no point complaining now; it would only slow both of you down.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” Jungkook suddenly suggests. He stops by a curb, drops onto the concrete, and gestures for you to join him. You hesitate for a moment before walking over and sitting beside him. “I feel really bad,” he confesses, his eyes apologetically large.

“It’s not your fault, Kook, I promise,” you assure him, knowing deep down it isn’t his fault either. A sigh escapes him, a rare note of distress beyond the initial panic when you two discovered you’d been locked out of his car.

Before you can add more, Jungkook kneels in front of you, gently taking your legs and slipping off your heels. The sudden, yet thoughtful gesture brings immediate relief to your aching feet.

“T-thanks,” you say, slightly flustered.

In the midst of what could have been a disaster, having Jungkook here makes everything feel a bit more bearable.

A comfortable silence settles between you both until a sudden yawn reminds you just how exhausted you are.

“Tired?” Jungkook teases with a smile. You merely scrunch your nose, prompting a soft chuckle from him. “Let’s get going then. We’ll find something soon, hm?”

As you prepare to put your shoes back on, Jungkook retrieves them and positions himself so you can step onto his back.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Jungkook, it’s fine. I’m not gonna die from another two or three-minute-walk.”

But he simply tilts his head back with an arched brow. “You didn’t have a problem hopping on my back at the beach.”

“That was different,” you protest, though his expectant gaze leaves you little choice. “Well… if you insist,” you relent. “Thanks, Kook. My feet were killing me.” 

Jungkook hoists you onto his back with ease, your arms looping around his shoulders.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Stronger than you look.”

He snorts. “I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.”

You smile, letting your eyes close for a second. The night air is cool, the road still and quiet beneath his steady footsteps.

After a beat, you say, “If we die out here, I hope someone puts cute flowers on our grave, at least.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice… put that on my tombstone: Died in heels. Looked hot doing it.” 

Your laugh is cut off when you see a flickering neon glow amongst the trees, cutting through the dark.

“Wait— look.”

Jungkook stops. “Is that…?”He starts walking faster, adjusting your weight. “That’s a motel sign.”

Sure enough, the closer you get, the clearer it is: a MOTEL sign blinking in faded colors, the word Vacancy lit underneath.

Jungkook lowers you gently to the ground, and you thought that’d be the end of it but he helps you with your heels again even though you didn’t say anything.

When you’re steady on your feet, you both stare at the building.

It’s shabby, a little creepy, but real.

“You think they’ll have a phone?” you ask.

“Let’s go inside?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

The dingy bell above the motel door jingles weakly as Jungkook pushes it open. You step in behind him, the heavy scent of air freshener mixed with something… older… instantly hitting your nose.

The lobby is small and tired-looking, lit by a flickering overhead light and a dusty lamp on the counter. Behind it sits a woman slouched over the desk, scrolling on her phone with a bored expression. She glances up once, before returning to whatever she’s doing.

“Hi,” Jungkook starts politely. “Uh… would it be okay if we borrowed your phone for a quick call? We’re kind of stuck out here.”

The woman barely moves her jaw as she responds. “Phones are for customers only.”

You and Jungkook exchange a look. Of course.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, managing a polite smile. “Then we’ll take a room.”

She finally straightens a little and reaches under the desk. “Only one room left,” she says as she pulls out a large, clunky registration book. “Two-oh-nine. Queen bed.”

You blink. “Just one?”

She shrugs, clearly not interested in your dilemma. “You want it or not?”

“We’ll take it,” he says quickly. “I’ll just make a quick call to wire you the money?” 

The woman glares at him suspiciously. Then she glances at you again, brows furrowing. You try to look inconspicuous, sticking behind Jungkook slightly. He wraps an arm around your waist.

Then, the attendant boredly shakes her head. 

“Whatever. Make your calls.” 

You try not to look as awkward as you feel when she slides the key across the counter with chipped blue nail polish.

“Second floor. Stairs are on the left.”

With that, she’s back on her phone like you never existed.

You and Jungkook stand there for a second, key in hand, the silence between you suddenly a little too loud. You look at each other for awhile, and then wordlessly, you both head towards where the staircase is. 

It creaks, the wooden material of the treads. But you both ignore that as you make your way up. 

It’s not too hard to spot Room 209, as it’s just quite literally on the next two doors to your right as soon as you step on the landing. 

The door creaks loudly when Jungkook unlocks the door and pushes it open.

When you both step inside, you pause immediately.

“Oh,” you both say at the same time.

The room is… something.

Faded floral wallpaper peels in the corners, and a single overhead light casts a yellowish glow over the queen-sized bed with mismatched sheets. There’s a clunky TV mounted to the wall, an old nightstand, and a mysterious stain on the carpet near the window that neither of you want to acknowledge.

You slowly turn your head toward Jungkook just as he turns to look at you.

”You can take the bed. I’ll take—” A quick scan in the room as you both step inside further tells a quick discovery that a couch is very much absent. “I’ll take the floor.” Jungkook finishes.

You’re too occupied with the state of the room that you don’t really say anything to that.

“You can take a shower first. I’ll just use the phone,” At that, you look to the other side of the room and find another door that presumably leads to the bathroom, and you almost let out a sigh of relief. At least they have a bathroom. “Lock the door for awhile. I’ll come back in three.” 

He gives you the key which you take in your hand. When Jungkook disappears, the soles of his shoes making a sound down the stairs, you make another discovery again that the walls are very thin. 

Yep. You have definitely been teleported to a movie in which you have no clue what the genre is yet. It might be a rom-com, but you’re more sure that it’s horror.

”Oh god,” you groan as you navigate the room.

Jungkook can’t possibly sleep on the floor! You bet he’s never done that before but even if that was the case, that would just be a cruel thing to do especially when the bed looks like it could fit the two of you just fine.

But the thought of sleeping with him again makes the heat crawl up your cheeks. You remember the last time you did it – not exactly how and why it even happened – but you remember that brief feeling of being pressed against his warm chest and feeling him all over you. Almost all of him, in fact. 

“Shut up.” you verbally tell yourself and roll your eyes, heading to the bathroom.

You go straight to the shower, strip your clothes off and grimace as soon as the cold water hits your skin. You didn’t really expect the motel to have hot water, anyway, but you do still agonize it as you clean up your body anyway, forgoing the suspicious bar of soap on the side. 

You finish quickly, not really wanting to stay that long in the bathroom.

There’s a clean looking robe that you wrap your body with before you pull open the door. And there Jungkook is, standing right in front of you, seemingly waiting. He’s also shirtless, because he’s handing you his shirt for some reason. 

“I called a locksmith already and they said they’re towing my car here in an hour and a half. That’d be 4 am by then, so we’ll probably be asleep. And I’m thinking you wouldn’t be comfortable in your dress, so feel free to wear this for the meantime.”

“Oh,” you give him a grateful smile, taking his shirt. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you to think.” 

“No problem.” 

Jungkook walks inside the bathroom and you unintentionally admire his muscular back before he completely disappears on you. 

You make quick work of patting yourself dry and putting on your panties and Jungkook’s shirt, feeling your cheeks heat up a little at the familiar scent. 

As you make the bed half-heartedly, you try not to think too much about how you’re gonna invite him beside you – but it keeps messing with your head because now you’re thinking about cuddling him and it’s totally unnecessary and inappropriate. 

At one point, you let yourself fall on the mattress dramatically, burying your face in the pillows and lying still.

“__?”

You lay flat on the bed completely motionless, brainstorming how to approach the situation. 

You really can’t let Jungkook sleep on the floor. There’s not even that much of a bedding on the bed, let alone some sheets! And there are only three pillows for Christ’s sake! 

You’ve drowned out your environment at that point that you guess you didn’t hear the shower shut close and the feet padding the floor, because when you crane your neck around, there Jungkook is.

And again, he is without a shirt.

And without pants. 

And you’re mostly certain it’s his penis right there in between his thighs.

”Oh my god!”

”__, what the hell!” 

“Jungkook, that’s your penis!” 

“What? Turn around and don’t look!” Jungkook says wide-eyed, attempting to cover his dick with his two hands. But it’s too late now because you’ve just seen it and there’s no way to blur it out in your head. 

“But I already saw it!” you cry, seeing different momentary emotions flash on Jungkook’s face. 

“I was calling for you because the towel is in the cabinet but I thought you got knocked out from exhaustion and so I decided I was just gonna sneak in!” Jungkook explains frantically, and you can see his ears turning red from where you are as he tries to seemingly cover all of him, quite poorly might you add. 

You stutter, “W-what do you mean knocked out, of course I’m awake!” 

“I called you thrice, and you didn’t— okay. Okay. Just turn around, please, so I can get the towel.” 

“Okay!” You bite your lip and almost snap your neck as you turn around swiftly, landing your eyes on the torn portion of the wallpaper in the room. “Oh my god…” You whisper to yourself as you hear shuffling from behind you, and if it was not any more obvious, you're about to burst in embarrassment. “What the fuck,” you hiss, trying not to physically shake your head to erase the image of Jungkook’s very naked body that keeps flashing in your head.

It seems like he picks up on it.

“Can you not sound so mortified?” 

And for the first time in your life, there’s a tone to Jungkook’s voice that sounds genuinely annoyed.

You slap both your palms to your face. “Well, I’m sorry! I just saw your— your thing! how am I supposed to react to that? It’s embarrassing!” 

“My penis is embarrassing?” Jungkook incredulously says.

You wish your mind worked faster than your mouth, but unfortunately, it doesn't. And you should’ve known that already, because it has gotten you in a lot of trouble all this time.

“No! Your penis is fine! It’s wonderful! I’m embarrassed, that’s what I meant.” 

There was no way to take that back, because the silence that follows is too loud that at this point, you hope the building burns to fuck so Jungkook can forget about what you said and maybe all about you too while you’re at it.

“… okay.” you hear Jungkook’s unsure voice. 

You groan. “Can I turn around now?” 

“You can.”

Thankfully, Jungkook has his pants on now. You try to see past his bottom half but the upper part is no help at all because you're wearing his shirt and there’s no way you’re giving it back to him so he’s naked, again.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side. He looks at you curiously, then he shakes his head.

“If anything, I should be the one embarrassed here, not you,” he says as he walks by the edge of the bed. 

“Well…” you watch him, following his figure. “I was speaking for both of us. You’re embarrassed about having your thing get seen by me and I’m embarrassed for seeing it.” 

Jungkook pauses.

“That is definitely not offensive.”

You’re about to release a sigh of relief when you realize that was him being sarcastic. 

You eye him apologetically. “Oh, Jungkook, how was I supposed to react? Your one-eyed monster just stared right at me. I had to scream.”

“My… what?” he incredulously says, seemingly just getting more and more confused the more the conversation gets going. 

You remember your promise to yourself to stop calling penis weird names so you shake your head.

“I didn’t say that, actually,” you try to give him your sweetest smile but you’re sure you just look constipated. You sigh, shoulders deflating. “Jungkook, I think it would really benefit the two of us if you stop me from speaking sometimes.” 

“Okay I get it,” Jungkook raises his hands, shrugging. “You’re mortified about seeing my dick.” He says and you swear he sounds a little defensive.

“What? No!” you quickly deny. “I’m not mortified about seeing your dick, I’m mortified about having to see it in the situation…!” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything, you let out a loud sigh again, eyeing him helplessly as you quietly accept that nothing is coming out right.

In defeat, you let your bum fall on the mattress and cross your arms as Jungkook finishes his make-shift bed on the floor.

“… well you would actually also scream if the situation was reversed, so.” You tell him as a matter of fact.

Jungkook stops on his tracks and turns to you. “You mean if I saw you naked?” 

“Well, yes.” 

You hear him scoff a little, prompting your brows to raise. 

“Trust me, I’ll have an entirely different reaction if I saw you naked.” 

He takes the spare sheet on the edge of the bed, laying it on the floor as your arms unconsciously drop to your sides once you register Jungkook’s words, jaw slacking at the realization. Before you can say anything to that, Jungkook’s already laying down on the floor and getting comfortable. 

“You know what, you’re so full of lines it’s ridiculous.” you say and indignantly lay on the bed, staring angrily at the ceiling.

But you remember he doesn’t even have pillows. So you make quick work of taking the two under your head. “Here.” You pass him the pillows without looking at him.

You’re not even mad mad, you’re just… ugh! Jungkook frustrates you with his stupid lines and you don’t even know if he’s serious or not or you’re just way too self-centered that everything he says feels like flattery to you. 

“What do you mean I’m full of lines?” Jungkook asks from below you.

“Come on, you always flirt with me.” 

Suddenly, you hear a chuckle, making you instantly crane your neck to the side. 

“Do you have a problem with it?” Jungkook says, and he has the audacity to sound playful. 

You nibble your bottom lip. You could make up a lie, but you find yourself not wanting to. Besides… it doesn’t realy matter if you tell him the truth. 

“No. You just make me so…” you trail off, not knowing what to say next. Maybe you didn’t really have anything in mind.

You hear Jungkook chuckling again at your prolonged silence. 

“So…?” You can just see him cocking his head to the side with that charming smile of his.

“Nevermind.” 

“That’s not fair,” he calls out, but there’s still a hint of smile that you can hear in his voice. “I still feel embarrassed that you felt mortified about seeing my—“

”Oh my god, don’t say it.” you quickly cut him off. 

He laughs. A hearty, full laugh. “Sorry.” 

“I’m not scared of your dick, okay? Stop saying that,” you say, cheeks heating. You bury your face further in the pillow as if it would teleport you to a place away from Jungkook. “I actually think—“ you cut yourself immediately when you catch what you’re actually thinking. 

“What?” he sounds intrigued, and you’re really grateful that he can’t see you right now because you’re definitely banging your face in the pillow again. 

While it is true that you got scared for a split second, it was only because of the shock of it all. But once you were past that, fear is definitely the last thing you feel about seeing his… thing, if you’re being honest to yourself. 

“I think that it’s time to sleep now.” You settle for that, nodding your head to yourself and mentally patting your back for the successful change of subject. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You bite back a smile. “Night.” 

“You too.” 

You hear a little bit of shuffling from below you, and you try to get comfortable as well on the mattress.

When a few minutes passed, you find yourself unable to close your eyes, staring at the dark scenery behind the curtain of the one and only window in the room. You peek at the alarm clock perched on the bedside table, noting it’s already four am. 

You’re used to a fucked sleeping schedule so it’s not a surprise to you that you don’t feel an ounce of sleep at this point. Thank god it’s Sunday tomorrow and you have no work. 

Is Jungkook asleep already, though? 

You move around the bed and gingerly roll yourself over to look at Jungkook. When you finally see him, he has one arm under his head while the other is draped across his bare stomach, eyes closed. There’s no extra sheet so you both have to deal with the cold from the breeze outside. Maybe it’s a good thing the AC’s not working, because you both will surely freeze to death. 

“Can’t sleep?”

You nearly topple over when you hear Jungkook’s voice. 

“You scared me,” you hiss. Jungkook laughs, but still, his eyes don’t open. 

“Gotcha.” his words may be playful but you realize he actually does sound a little tired. 

You’re quiet for a moment as you look at him. The floorboards must probably be hurting him, and if not right now, it surely will in the next hours. 

“Kook?” He only hums. “Do you wanna share the bed?” you say, looking at him in concern. 

“It’s alright.” Jungkook says gently. 

“No, it’s fine really. And we can also share that sheet anyway if we both sleep here instead.” 

Finally, Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting yours. “You sure?” You nod your head certainly. He gives you a smile. ”Okay.”

He gets off the floor, bringing the sheet and pillows with him as he stands up. You try to ignore the way your stomach curls at the sight of him: shirtless and only in his trousers, but it becomes more difficult when he gets closer, knees dipping into the mattress and scent overwhelming you. 

He smells like the perfume you assume he wears for work, and goddamn does it stay and good god does it make you think of a lot of things. 

Scooting to the side, you hug one pillow closer to you as you give him space. It’s not a tight fit, but it’s not spacious, either. 

“You’re gonna fall off the bed at this point,” Jungkook says suddenly, and you realize you’re near the edge by your constant ruffling. 

Giving him a sheepish smile, you adjust your position just as he lays on his back.

Your shoulders touch, and he feels closer than ever.

You swallow the lump in your throat before you turn around with your back facing him, curling to yourself as you barely whisper, “Good night, Jungkook.” 

A beat. Then, “Sweet dreams, __.” 

Minutes pass, and you’ve been trying to shut your eyes close so sleep can come visit you, but it doesn’t. You’re trying so hard not to press any closer in the fear of suddenly wanting to cuddle up to him and having your resolve get broken down.

“Hey,” Your heart jumps at Jungkook’s husky tone. But you hum in response, still your back on him. There’s a pregnant pause before he speaks. “What I said last time at your place, we never really talked about it again.” 

Your heart picks up, knowing exactly where he’s getting at.

It’s been about four days, and none of you haven’t brought it up ever since. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” 

Your heart gets caught up in your throat. “Kook…”

“I’m completely fine just being friends with you, if that’s what you want.” Jungkook says, and every word that he says is starting to feel like a punch to the gut. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want you to think that my friendship has an ulterior motive—” 

“Jungkook?” 

You feel Jungkook physically freeze when you turn around to look at him. He’s there lying on his back with an arm under his neck, and for now, you ignore the very obvious lines of ripped muscles on his stomach and arms. For now, you try not to think too much about how his chest looks so inviting like it’s begging to be cuddled into.

“Yes?” He levels you with curious doe eyes, a little tense.

“Shut up.” You tell him gently. His mouth parts, completely unexpecting that.

You adjust your position on the bed until your elbow is pressing hard onto the mattress, supporting your weight. Tucking a strand of hair that falls over your face, you look into his eyes as you add, “I don’t wanna be just friends with you.” 

Surprise makes its way onto his expression, and you try to drown out the way your heart beats erratically against your ribcage.

When he doesn’t say anything, you let yourself fall on the bed ungracefully, turning your back on him, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your mini outburst. 

But then a few seconds later, and you hear a bit of shuffling behind you. Then, there’s a breath that fans across your neck, and you feel a warm presence all over your back. 

“This is okay, then?” Jungkook whispers against your hair, so close to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You could see from your periphery the way his inked arm hovers over your waist, and you find yourself yearning for him to just drop it and press you closer against him.

And so you decide to throw your inhibitions away and think fuck it. What’s there to think about? 

You scoot closer to him until you feel all of him against your back. 

Without knowing why, you feel a smile on Jungkook’s lips as he softly says, “You’re killing me here.” 

When you look over your shoulder, there Jungkook is, meeting your stare instantly as if his eyes had been on you the whole time. And maybe it’s the magnetic pull you’ve felt ever since you stepped on that beach and felt and seen each other’s bare skin pressed so close against one another – teasing your feet over the lines you two have been blurring out ever since that night at his place when you got drunk and you shared a rather intimate moment that left you both hanging to a questionable push and pull situation. 

But you choose to push this time; against the whirling thoughts in your head about what this would mean in the future. 

You adjust yourself once again; lean a little close, and then kiss Jeon Jungkook. 

And it doesn’t really surprise you that much when he kisses back. 

You’ve thought about how he would taste like ever since that night it almost happened and kept yourself in denial for days. You’ve played the oblivious game as a defense mechanism for some fear you know you just conjured up in your brain – but tonight feels electric. Like the night built up just for this exact moment to come; with your lips pressed against Jungkook’s. 

You hear a sigh escaping him, a deep timbre that sends shivers down your spine.

And when Jungkook nudges his tongue against your lips, you open your mouth to let him in. 

You let out a soft whimper when Jungkook’s tongue starts exploring your mouth, beginning to feel lightheaded as he leans more of him towards you. His hands start wandering, and what was once hovering over you is now on your waist, fingers pulling up the hem of his polo shirt until you’re exposed down to your legs with only a pair of underwear to keep you decent. It travels down to your outer thigh, with Jungkook brushing a calloused hand against the soft flesh – and you can’t help but moan when he squeezes, especially paired with a skillful tongue that works its ways in your mouth like he’s trying to tell you something he’s desperate for you to know. 

It’s how you find yourself pushing on his chest, effectively halting Jungkook’s ministrations. 

“Wh—” you cut him off with another searing kiss, and you don’t let him say any more as you boldly straddle his waist, unintentionally settling down on his crotch where you feel a bulge against your thin underwear. 

And oh god. Earlier when you saw it with your bare eyes, you had to convince yourself that it was just the shock that made it seem so… big. But feeling it right now tells the same story.

You both moan in unison, with Jungkook’s hands instinctively going to grab your waist, pressing you against him harder.

As you do an experimental roll of your hips, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan that makes your body tingle with want. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and the next thing you know, he’s flipping you on your back in one swift motion. He presses his knee to your covered core, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious friction of something hard against your clit.

“Ah…” you tilt your head to the side when Jungkook begins peppering kisses on the side of your mouth, down to your jaw; nipping and nibbling. “Oh, Jungkook,” 

“Fuck, baby,” The nickname slips past his lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and you watch as Jungkook kisses his way down your cleavage, made easily accessible by the undone top buttons of your shirt. He noses along the line of your bra, leaves butterfly kisses on his path. “Baby…” 

“Jungkook– please…” 

Suddenly, he looks up at you, eyes hooded with what you can only identify as lust. “Do you want this?” he husks out.

You don’t even have to think about it, a “Yes” escaping your lips just right after his question drops. “I want this. So bad.” 

“Goddamn it,” He hisses, diving into your chest and taking in a huge inhale in the swell of your breasts. You feel lightheaded, brain hazy and not thinking about anything else but his hands all over you and the hard evidence of his mutual want pressing against your abdomen. 

Until he breaks away.

Perplexed, you look at him with questioning eyes.

“Listen, angel,” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, gaze dropping onto your lips. “I want nothing but to strip you off these clothes and show you how much I want you right now—” your mouth parts when he presses his hips against yours, his hand squeezing your rib, sitting dangerously close to your breast. “but I don’t want us to have sex for the first time in this… motel room. And I don’t have a condom with me.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Jungkook looks defeated, like it physically pained him to even admit that to you; face settling in a deep scowl. 

You look around… and honestly, you get it. 

You turn to look at him and then let your hands slowly wander across his chest as you sigh deeply. 

“You’re right.” You nibble on your bottom lip as you brush past his nipples, noting the way his biceps flex at the touch. “It’s a shame.” 

“__…” It sounded like a gentle warning, the way Jungkook spoke your name.

But you don’t let it deter your hands from traveling down south, ignoring his sudden heavy breaths on top of you when your finger stops at his zipper.

You look at him again, meeting his stare. 

“Can we just do something else, then?” You blink meekly. And you watch as his mouth parts when your hand slowly rubs the hard-on he’s sporting in his pants. He’s so big, and so heavy. You wonder how it’d look like in your hand. “You’re so hard.”

But Jungkook takes your wrist, effectively stopping you from palming him. 

You immediately frown, about to say something when Jungkook drowns it out with a hot kiss. 

His tongue dances against yours in a fervid motion, knocking you out of breath, completely unexpecting the passion he puts into the kiss. 

But you don’t mind one bit, not when he begins kissing his way down your jaw, the column of your neck, until his hands skirt along your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Jungkook asks, already fiddling with the buttons. You nod unabashedly, body anticipating with want. 

He makes quick work of the button down until all it reveals is you in your bra and panties. Jungkook takes a sharp breath and hones in on your tattoo once again. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, and he sounds so mesmerized you don’t even know what to say. He traces the ink along your rib with light kisses that make you squirm. “This okay?” 

He looks up at you, and you swore you never saw a man this beautiful on top of you in your whole life. 

“Hmm.” 

Suddenly, you hear a click, and you watch as your bra loosens with Jungkook taking it off you completely. Breasts spilling out from the confines, you both moan when Jungkook squeezes them in his palms.

“Absolutely beautiful– fuck.” He flicks your nipples, pinches them in his fingers until they’re tight and peaked. He lowers his head to kiss around the swell of your breast, nipping around the skin until he furthers down, breath ghosting along your hips. 

You moan and grab at his shoulders at the tentative touch of his finger over your core, pushing your head back when he presses his thumb right where your nub is.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve been wanting to do this,” Jungkook rasps, continuing to rub his thumb over your clothed core. You can feel your wetness starting to seep through, hands clutching his shoulders tighter by the second.

“Y-yeah?” 

“Hm. You’ve been teasing me all night long.” 

Jungkook hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties, and in an absurdly, ridiculously slow motion, peels the flimsy fabric right off your legs.

You bite your lip. “How’d you say so?” 

There’s a small tilt to Jungkook’s lips that you see before he lowers his head to press a kiss on your inner thigh. When you squirm, he tightens his grip, looks up at you and holds an intense gaze as he slowly licks a bold stripe across your slit.

You feel a gush of wetness coming out just as you feel a tingle in your groin, words getting caught in your tongue when you watch Jungkook zero in on your pussy.

“You in that goddamn dress made me almost malfunction at the rooftop,” he chuckles, kissing your clit. “Showing me your tattoo, suggesting to swim in our underwear. You know, I think you know exactly what you do to me.” 

You inhale a sharp breath when you see him wetting one of his fingers in his mouth. It’s sinful the way he looks at you as he slowly dips it in your aching entrance, watching the way your mouth parts in an obscene o-shape.

“I-I don’t.” you deny, hands finding the rumpled sheets and gripping them tight at the anticipation of what he’s going to do next. 

But Jungkook just chuckles; a dark, rich sound. And it’s the first time you hear something like that from him. Almost ominous, sinister. It excites you.

“Hm, I don’t think so. But it’s okay. I’ll let it slide for now,” He kisses your thigh again, teasing. “What do you want, baby? Let me take care of you and this wet pussy. So gorgeous, just like the rest of you.” 

“Your mouth,” you say with no hesitation, “and your fingers.” You bite your lip, thinking about it before you throw out a small, “Please.” 

Jungkook chuckles, leaning in so he could press a kiss on your mound. That evokes a shiver from you, legs jumping with equal need and want.

“Greedy and polite,” He grips your thighs, “I like that.” 

“Jung—” 

“Stay still now, baby.” He says before separating your glistening folds with his fingers and diving right in.

It tears out a cry from your vocal chords, the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and kisses around the crevice of your heat like he’s making out with it. His grunts and moans, along with the sloppy sounds of your slick is so lewd to the ears you’re almost certain the people on the other side of the room could hear it if they weren’t asleep – but you find you don’t really care if they could, because Jungkook is licking you clean like his life depended on it. 

“Ah– fuck, feels so good– p-please…” 

“Hm?” His hum vibrates in your pussy that rips a moan from you, hands grabbing at his head in panic at the pleasure.

Warm hands smooth up your thighs to pin them down again, preventing you from squirming too much. Now you’re immobile in his hold, panting at the sensation of him enveloping your clit and giving it a harsh suck that causes your hips to buck against his face. At that jerky movement from you, Jungkook splays his hand on your stomach, and you fall back down with a thump and a pleasurable cry. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispers in a raspy tone. He does give you an apologetic kiss on the mound, even giving a slow lick from your hole and dipping inside for a brief, solid second before he returns to your clit, putting it in a hot suction in his mouth again, causing a sharp moan to escape past your lips. “I love the pretty sounds you make for me, pretty girl. Keep that up for me, yeah?” 

You whimper, nodding feverishly and grabbing at his hair tightly when he starts rubbing his thumb on your clit again, watching him lightheaded as he focuses on spreading the slick all over your pussy. Slowly, he dips in his ring finger in your aching hole, satisfying the emptiness you’ve long felt with his thick digit. 

When you look down, you catch Jungkook staring at you while he digs deeper, and you hold his gaze until he’s knuckles deep; mouth parting at how unbelievably full you already feel with just a finger. 

He begins sliding it out, but it’s not long until he’s putting it again and repeating the manner in a stroke that progresses its pace by the second. 

“Jungkook– shit,” you moan, thrashing underneath him. “F-fuck. I can’t– baby– fuck—” 

“Hm?” he quickens his pace, enjoying the way more slick oozes out from your pussy at his lewd ministrations. 

“M-more. I want more– oh my god,” 

And he doesn’t need to get told twice because as soon as you mention it, he adds in his middle finger, stroking your inner walls like it’s a job he doesn’t play about. 

“So pretty. Wanna make you cum,” he breaks eye contact in favor of enveloping your clit in his mouth again. 

This time, Jungkook emphasizes his sentiment by putting more enthusiasm in the way he licks you; messy and sloppy than before. He retracts his fingers from your pussy, and you’re about to reprimand him but your words die on your tongue when he only uses his fingers to keep your folds open to dip his tongue in your sopping hole, drawing eights in your inner walls that have you almost seeing stars. 

His other hand that was once pinning you down against the rumpled sheets is now on your clit, rubbing it while he eats you feverishly like it’s his last meal. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue and mouth and fingers – hands pushing his head down unintentionally and moaning uncontrollably. Jungkook’s nose brushes against your clit as he devours your pussy, keeping his pace steady until pleasure coils in the pit of your belly. 

Jungkook seems to notice that, as he once again slips his fingers in you, curling it so deep and expertly finding that sweet spot inside you it makes your toes curl at your impending orgasm. 

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” 

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, swirling his tongue around your clit in frantic circles. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby? Hm?” 

“Yes– yes, yes!” You cry. “Don’t stop please, don’t stop,” 

“I know… you can cum for me, angel. So gorgeous. Such a good girl…” Jungkook keeps his pace steady, doubling his efforts until he feels you thrashing wildly he couldn’t really keep you down.

“Jungkook—!”

The coil snaps in the pit of your stomach, vision going white at the orgasm that hits you like a ten-wheeler truck.

“Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, riding out the waves of your pleasure by slowing down his strokes this time, your walls clenching around his fingers, still spasming.

When you whine, he unsheathes his fingers from your tight walls. You watch as he lowers his head down to dive in you once again, feeling even more boneless when you hear a shameless slurp that comes from him licking you clean. 

You feel tired, sleepy, but happy all at once; your throat feeling absolutely dry from all the moaning you did earlier. Nonetheless, you smile as Jungkook looks up at you again – feeling suddenly shy when you see the slick that covers up his chin. 

“Feelin’ good?” He says, grinning. 

You roll your eyes that earns you a chuckle from him. 

Jungkook slowly returns to you with kisses to your hips, up to your stomach; to your tattoo, the swell of your breasts, and then your sternum before you wrap your arms around his shoulders, craning your neck when his lips slowly ascend there. 

“I feel tired,” you say, revelling in the kisses Jungkook plants on the base of your neck. “You might have broken me, mister.”

He chuckles against your jaw, playfully nipping then kissing the spot. 

“Hm. I hope not. I’d feel really bad.” 

A giggle slips past you, and you welcome Jungkook’s lips when he kisses your mouth, tongue dipping in immediately. 

Suddenly, you feel his very obvious erection against your stomach, making you break away from the kiss. 

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. 

You cup his face, biting your lip as you glance down. “What about you?” 

It takes Jungkook a while to get what you meant as he directs his gaze down to where your eyes are. Then he looks at you again, chuckling, “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” You frown. Jungkook erases your pout with a kiss. “Come on, I’ll clean you up and we’ll sleep right after. Sounds good?” 

“Okay.” you give him a smile. Jungkook pecks you on the cheek before he stands up from the bed with grace that you know you cannot pull off after doing the deed. 

“I’ll take this.” he picks up your shirt and gestures to the other side of the room.

You feel like every bone in your body had been liquefied, feeling absolutely nothing but pleasurable ache in between your thighs as you lay on your side, admiring Jungkook’s back as he disappears into the bathroom. 

It’s not long before he returns with a dampened portion of the polo shirt, and you swear you had to tell every part of you to say nothing as he tells you to open up and use the shirt to clean you up. 

You’re a heated mess when Jungkook comes back to bed, but you both don’t really say anything and let the comfortable silence hang in the air as you curl to your side with Jungkook sidling up against your back. 

In a bout of sudden braveness, you take his arm and wrap it around you. He wastes no time and pushes you closer to him, burying his head in your hair. 

“It’s almost morning…” you whisper as you take a peak of the window, finding a much lighter shade on the background compared to the pitch black night sky you walked in earlier. 

Jungkook hums. “It’s almost 5. I’ll set an alarm at 8 and we’ll check out.” 

You’re too sleepy to function at that point, couldn’t fight the drowsiness of sleep that pushes against your eyelids. 

All you remember is a light kiss against your hair and Jungkook tightening his arm around you before you completely drift off to sleep.

all right reserved © awrkive, 2025. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[robbysreaders]

Sorry I don’t make the rules, we need more ex x baby daddy!Jack!

Especially their wedding, breeding kink Jack, more babies, the whole thing.

Hehe pls & thanks

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader word count: 3.6k notes: part 4 of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack way hornier than the rest of writing but tbh like .5 chili peppers haha and thank you for this req in my inbox!!!! i love these two and i'm working my way through some ideas that have been shared with me but i just started a new job so they will probably be over the next few weeks!

Something unlocks after you get engaged.

It’s not dramatic, not fireworks. Just this quiet, grounded certainty that settles between you. This is it. This is real. There’s a ring on your finger, a boy in the other room who looks like both of you, and Jack—Jack, who once felt like an impossible choice, now feels like home.

And you continue to see a side of him you’re not entirely used to.

He's still Jack—still grumbles about budget cuts and leaves coffee mugs in strange places—but he’s also… attentive. Almost absurdly so. Sweet in a way that feels like he’s been saving it all up. And maybe a little unhinged in the best, horniest way. He touches you constantly. Always finds a way to press a kiss to your temple, your shoulder, your stomach. Like he still can’t believe he gets to.

“I locked you down,” he mutters one morning, arms snug around your waist as you brush your teeth. “You, Beau, and a damn ring. The trifecta.”

“You make it sound like a hostage situation,” you laugh, spitting into the sink.

Jack grins against your neck. “Maybe I should squirrel you away to the courthouse before you change your mind.”

“Oh, we were dangerously close to that, don’t kid yourself,” you say, rinsing. “But I wanted the view.”

And the view was worth it.

Lake Como in late May. A small villa perched on a hillside, all warm stone and blooming vines. The ceremony was intimate—friends, family, a very small and slightly chaotic PTMC contingent somehow made the trip. Robby cried, and Dana pretended not to. Your sister wrangled Beau through the flower-petal aisle like she’d been training for it her whole life.

You danced under string lights. Said “I do” to a man who still sometimes forgets to fold towels correctly but looks at you like you hung the stars.

And somehow—shockingly—you agreed to let your sister take Beau back with her, so you and Jack could have a true honeymoon.

Just you. Just him.

The first night, you’re on the balcony in a linen robe and nothing else, wine glass in hand, the lake glowing below you.

Jack comes up behind you—barefoot, shirtless, lazy smile on his face—and wraps his arms around your waist like he can’t help himself.

“I love this,” you murmur. “I love you. I want to stay here forever.”

“I know,” he says, kissing that spot just beneath your ear. Then, after a beat, “But… is it just me, or does it feel like missing a limb without Beau? …no pun intended.”

You laugh and spin in his arms, wrapping your hands around his neck. “God, I love you. This is why I married you. You’re in my brain.”

“I’m just saying,” he grins, brushing your hair back. “Maybe we wouldn’t miss him so much if you were already carrying another little Abbot with you.”

You raise a brow. “Wow. Wasting no time, huh?”

“I’ve been waiting six years Mrs. Abbot. You can’t be surprised.”

“Careful,” you say, teasing, “you sound like you get off to me being barefoot and pregnant.”

Jack hums, low and amused. “I mean… if the shoe fits.”

You groan, half-exasperated, half turned on. “God, you’re such a menace.”

“An insatiable menace,” he says, sliding his hands beneath your robe. “Who happens to be very good at making you come. Efficient, even. Fill you so good we’d get twins. Two for one.”

“Okay, Doctor Abbot,” you laugh, swatting at his chest. “Did you hit your head or is this just post-wedding delirium?”

He grumbles into your neck.

You swat his chest. “You know, for a doctor, you know nothing about conception.”

“I know the basics,” he says, hand smoothing over your hip, “and that I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“God, you are so full of yourself. Should’ve never married a jock.”

He smirks. “Did someone say cock?” His hips roll against yours, slow and deliberate, pressing a point.

You groan, laughing into his mouth as he kisses you. “You’re ridiculous. And I thought you’d go for the “and you’ll be so full of me’ route”

“What can I say, I’m maturing,” he mumbles, deepening the kiss, his hands roaming now. “You’re lucky you married me. Any other man would’ve passed out from post-wedding exhaustion.”

“Instead I got the energizer bunny in scrubs.”

He scoops you up with ease—one arm under your thighs, the other around your back—and carries you inside like it’s your first night all over again. He drops you onto the bed gently, then follows, kissing a path down your stomach.

“Jack,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I’m just doing a thorough exam,” he says into your skin. “You’ve under my care, it would be negligent not to check on you after such a major life event like getting married.”

“You’re annoying,” you say, breath hitching.

“You love it.”

You do.

You love all of it. The warmth, the ease, the hunger in him that never faded, just changed shape over time. You let him take his time—relearn your body like it’s the first time all over again. You lose yourself in him, in the soft press of lips to skin, the whispered confessions that slip out only when his guard is down.

Laughing, gasping, kissing like it’s the only language you know. After, you lay tangled together, sweat-damp and boneless.

He traces circles on your back, eyes half-lidded. “Seriously. Twins.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m just saying, it’s efficient.”

“Beau is six and I’m still tired.”

Jack chuckles. “Fine. No pressure. Just practice. Lots of practice.”

You roll over, facing him. “You happy?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “More than I knew I could be.”

The room is quiet. Outside, the lake glimmers in moonlight.

“I was scared, you know,” you whisper.

Jack glances down at you. “When?”

“All of it. Letting you back in. Saying yes. I kept thinking, what if we just mess it up again?”

He brushes a hand along your jaw. “We probably will. Sometimes. But I’m not going anywhere. And I won’t let you carry the weight alone.”

Your eyes sting. “That’s what scared me before. Feeling like I was alone in it.”

“I know,” he says softly. “I felt it too. But I didn’t know how to fix it then. I was still trying to outrun things.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m tired of running.”

You press a kiss to his chest. “So no running. No hiding.”

“No hiding,” he repeats.

There’s a long silence, filled only by the soft hum of the night and your breathing slowing in sync.

Then Jack says, so quietly you almost miss it: “I want a big life with you.”

You look up. “You already have one.”

He smiles. “I know. But I want more of it. All the messy, beautiful pieces. Soccer games and parent-teacher conferences. Slow Sundays. Another baby. or two. or ten. Just—more.”

Your throat tightens. “God, you’re such a sap now.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, pulling you in closer.

You grin into his skin. “Don’t worry. I’m into it.”

And he’s into you—clearly—because within minutes, he’s proving again just how committed he is to “practice.”

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, lulled by the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the quiet certainty that this time, you didn’t choose wrong.

His arm is slung heavy around your waist, one leg wedged between yours. His hand is resting possessively on your hip, thumb tucked just under the curve of your stomach like it belongs there. You don’t move. You just lay there, soaking in the stillness.

The lake outside is calm. There’s birdsong, a faint breeze, and nothing else.

You sigh into the silence.

“Mmm,” Jack mumbles, tightening his grip. “Alive?”

“Barely.”

“You wore me out,” he says, voice hoarse and self-satisfied.

“You begged for it.”

“I did,” he agrees. Then, after a beat: “I’d do it again.”

You smile, pressing your nose to his chest. “We’ve officially entered the honeymoon stage.”

“We skipped it the first time. I’m cashing in.”

You shift slightly, pressing your cold toes to his shin. He flinches.

“Jesus.”

“Sorry,” you murmur. “Poor circulation. Still your wife though.”

“Unfortunately.”

You laugh, then kiss his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“No idea. But I think I’ve achieved full body paralysis.”

“Same.”

There’s a long, quiet pause. Then Jack says, “We should go swimming.”

You blink. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Why not? Lake’s right there. We’re in Italy. No Beau to referee. Might be our last chance before life crashes back in.”

“Very romantic. Also, I don’t even know where I packed my swimsuit.”

“Who said anything about swimsuits?”

You arch a brow. “You want to skinny-dip? In the daytime?”

He shrugs, rolling onto his back. “I’m just saying, we’re legally married. What are they gonna do, arrest us for being in love?”

“Jack.”

“Live a little, Mrs. Abbot.”

You stare at him. “You’re serious.”

“I’m proposing an impulsive memory. Don’t make me swim alone like some pervert.”

You groan dramatically, grabbing a sheet as you roll out of bed. “Fine. But if I get arrested in a foreign country for public indecency, you better bail me out.”

He grins. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You wrap yourself in the linen sheet toga-style and pad barefoot out onto the balcony. The stairs down to the private dock are warm beneath your feet, sun already high and bright.

Jack follows behind, also barely dressed, with two towels slung over his shoulder and that cocky post-wedding glow.

The water is cool but not cold. Crisp. Clean. You wade in first, shrieking at the initial shock until Jack yanks you forward and pulls you under with him.

When you surface, sputtering, hair slicked back and gasping from laughter, he’s looking at you like he can’t believe this is his life.

“You’re unreal,” he says, reverent.

You splash water in his face. “I married you, didn’t I?”

“Best scam I’ve ever pulled.”

You drift closer, legs brushing. His hand cups the back of your neck. You kiss, slow and deep and lazy, and when he pulls back, you can see the smile in his eyes.

The lake stretches out behind him. A postcard come to life.

You stay in the lake until your fingers are pruned and your stomach’s growling. Breakfast is pastries you picked up from a little corner bakery, still flakey and warm. Jack makes espresso in the tiny kitchen, whistling off-key. It’s stupidly domestic. And perfect.

You sit on the floor of the villa, legs tangled, plates on your laps. He steals a bite of your sfogliatella without asking.

“Do you think we should call Beau today?” you ask, chewing.

Jack nods, swallowing his own bite. “Yeah. Just to check in. Not now though. He’ll be with your sister at the zoo or the pool or learning how to disassemble small electronics, depending on her mood.”

You laugh. “She does run a very strange babysitting operation.”

“She’s a miracle worker. Honestly, I’m still shocked she agreed to take him.”

“She told me every married couple deserves three uninterrupted days after the ‘I do.’ Then handed me a jumbo box of condoms and said not to come home pregnant unless it was intentional.”

Jack chokes on his coffee. “Jesus Christ.”

You shrug, smug. “Just saying—her words, not mine.”

He leans back against the couch, eyeing you. “And is it?”

You glance at him.

“Intentional.”

The air shifts.

You don’t answer right away. Just push your plate aside and crawl into his lap. He adjusts instantly, arms wrapping around you, palms dragging up your thighs.

“I think… I’m not not open to it,” you say slowly. “Before, it felt impossible. Everything felt so fragile. But now? I look at you and Beau, and it’s like—yeah. I want more of this. More of us.”

He swallows, throat bobbing. “You’re sure?”

You smile. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure about.”

His mouth finds yours, urgent now, full of promise. You kiss like it’s a decision, a vow, a whole damn future.

And when he finally pulls back, he’s flushed and breathless.

“I love you so much it’s physically uncomfortable.”

You laugh against his jaw. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”

He grins. “Yeah. Tragic.”

That afternoon, you nap in the sun. The villa has a hammock strung between two cypress trees and Jack insists on sharing it, even though he’s too long and your legs keep tangling and one of you always ends up with an elbow in the ribs.

“I hope Beau’s having a good day,” you murmur, eyes closed, head on his chest.

Jack’s hand is tracing idle circles on your bare arm. “I’m sure he is. You think he’ll remember the wedding?”

“Some pieces,” you say. “The dancing. The cake. Robby giving him ten euros to yell ‘just kiss already!’ before we even got to the vows.”

“God,” he sigh. “What a circus.”

You hum in agreement.

Then, “Do you think we’re doing okay? With him? With this?”

Jack shifts beneath you. “Honestly? I think we’re doing great. Not perfect. But real. He’s kind. Confident. Feels safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod slowly. “I used to worry so much about what we were showing him, you know? The split. The mess.”

“He saw love,” Jack says simply. “Even when it was hard. Especially then.”

You press your face to his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him—sun, sweat, skin.

“I’m glad we waited to do this right,” you whisper. “I don’t think I could’ve survived a version of us where we never figured it out.”

Jack’s voice is thick. “Me either.”

That night, you dress up.

No real reason. Just a silky dress you’ve been saving, heels a little higher than you usually wear. Jack puts on real pants—well, linen slacks—and a button-down that’s already half undone by the time he finishes wrestling with the cuffs.

He sees you and stops short.

“Jesus.”

“Too much?”

“Not enough.”

Dinner is just a short walk into the village—twinkly lights and hand-pulled pasta and a carafe of wine that disappears too quickly. You talk about everything and nothing. The neighbors at home. Future holidays. How much more you can fit in your suitcase without paying extra baggage fees.

“You’re going to check my carry-on and judge me, aren’t you?” you accuse.

“Only because you brought six pairs of shoes and wore the same ones every day.”

“They’re options, Jack.”

He leans over the table, resting his chin on his hand. “God, I love you.”

You stop. Just for a second. Let it wash over you.

“I love you too.”

Later, you walk back slow. His hand finds yours. Your shoulders brush.

Back at the villa, Jack peels the dress off you like he’s unwrapping a gift. Kisses every inch of bare skin he uncovers. You let him take his time.

You make love slow. No rush. No hunger. Just reverence. It feels different this time—heavier, softer, but still electric.

You don’t remember falling asleep—just the weight of Jack’s body against yours, the slow press of his kisses, the steady rhythm of your breath returning to normal in the quiet afterglow.

What wakes you is the light. It spills through the shutters, golden and soft, casting lazy stripes across the sheets.

Jack’s already awake, propped up on one elbow, watching you like you’re some kind of sunrise. His hair’s a mess, lips kiss-bitten, and he has the nerve to look smug about it.

“Morning, Mrs. Abbot,” he says, voice rough with sleep.

“God,” you groan, burying your face in the pillow. “You’re going to say that all the time, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” he grins. “Until it’s on your driver’s license.”

You roll onto your back, stretch slowly. His eyes follow the movement like he’s hungry again.

“You’re staring,” you say.

“You’re glowing.”

“I’m sweating.”

“Still counts.”

You nudge him with your foot. He catches it, presses a kiss to your ankle, and suddenly you feel a whole lot warmer.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“Starving.”

“I’ll make breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You brought me to Italy just to feed me scrambled eggs?”

Jack swings his legs off the bed and stands—naked, unabashed. “I’m a man of many talents. But fine. Pancakes?”

“In Italy?”

He shrugs. “International pancakes.”

You laugh as he heads toward the kitchen, grabbing a pair of boxers on the way. He whistles while he moves, some Sinatra song you vaguely recognize, and your heart tugs in your chest like it still can’t quite believe this is real. 

You pull on one of his shirts and pad barefoot after him. The villa is quiet, the lake just barely visible through the open patio doors, glittering in the morning sun.

Jack’s already got flour out. There’s a pan warming on the stove. You wrap your arms around him from behind, rest your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t burn them.”

“You wound me.”

“I’ve seen you try to flip a pancake. You get too cocky.”

“That’s because you heckle me,” he says, flipping the first one with unnecessary flair. “Watch and learn, Mrs. Abbot.”

You roll your eyes but sit at the table, watching him with something dangerously close to adoration. There’s something ridiculous about how seriously he takes this—like he’s proving something. Like if he makes these pancakes just right, he’ll have earned it all over again.

He sets a plate in front of you with a flourish. “Bon appétit.”

You take a bite, eyes widening. “Okay. Okay, maybe you have improved.”

Jack smirks, sitting across from you, fork already in hand. “I’ve been practicing.”

“For this moment?”

“For this life.”

The words hit you low and deep, like a drum. You look at him—really look—and see it there: the steadiness. The certainty. He’s still Jack, but he’s… more. Softer around the edges. Not smaller, just less armored.

You reach for his hand across the table.

“I still can’t believe we’re here.”

“Me neither.”

“I don’t think I let myself imagine it,” you admit. “Not after everything.”

Jack’s expression sobers. He sets his fork down. “Can I tell you something?”

You nod.

“That night. The one when you said you needed space. I thought… I thought that was it. I thought I’d ruined my life beyond fixing.”

You squeeze his fingers.

“I let it happen,” he continues quietly. “I was so afraid of screwing it up that I stood back and watched it fall apart. It’s like—if I didn’t fight for it, I couldn’t be blamed for losing it.”

Your throat tightens. “Jack…”

He shakes his head. “But I realized it wasn’t fair. To you. Or to Beau. Or to myself, honestly. But I didn’t know how to be better then. I didn’t even know what better looked like.”

“You do now,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says. “Because of you.”

There’s a silence that stretches, heavy but full. Then you stand, walk around the table, and sink into his lap. He holds you like he’s anchoring himself.

“You did all the hard work, I just pushed you to do it. We’re allowed to be happy now,” you murmur into his neck.

Jack’s arms tighten. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever thanked you”

“I can think of a few ways to start showing your gratefulness”

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream.

You spend the afternoon wandering through the nearby village—stone streets, small shops, gelato for lunch. Jack insists on carrying your bag. You make fun of his touristy camera strap, and he makes fun of your obsession with ceramic bowls.

You take a million photos together, and he looks so happy—so open—that you save one immediately as your phone background.

When you get back, you read on the balcony while he naps on the couch, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes like a romance novel hero. You don’t even wake him when he starts to snore.

By evening, you’re tangled again in bed, warm skin against warm skin, and Jack is tracing his name on your thigh with his fingertip.

“You know what I was thinking?” he says, voice low.

“Mm?”

“That I want to take you everywhere. That we should do a honeymoon part two, with Beau. Paris. Or Morocco. Or Tokyo. Somewhere Beau can try weird candy and yell at me in public without getting in trouble.”

You laugh. “He already does that.”

“True. But we could do it under the guise of cultural education.”

You turn to face him. “You really want to travel?”

“I want to do anything that keeps us feeling like this,” he says. “Like we’re not just surviving.”

You study him. The honesty. The hope.

“Then let’s make it a plan,” you say. “Once a year. Somewhere new.”

Jack’s smile softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Deal. Annual Abbot Adventures.”

“Trademark pending.”

“You, me, a six-year-old with a suitcase full of Legos. What could go wrong?”

You laugh, leaning in to kiss him. “Everything.”

“Exactly,” he grins. “Perfect family vacation.”

Later, after you’ve both showered, after he’s poured you a glass of wine and rubbed your feet and claimed it was “medically necessary to assess swelling from travel,” you’re curled together in bed with the windows open to the night air.

Jack’s arm is around you, fingers resting on your stomach again. Always that same spot. Like he’s waiting. Or willing.

You place your hand over his.

“You really want another?” you ask, voice soft.

“I want whatever you want,” he says.

You don’t respond right away, “You’d be a great girl dad.”

He snorts. “God help me if she’s anything like you.”

“Smart, stubborn, charming?”

“Dangerous,” he says. “too smart, perfect.”

You smile. “You’re already soft. You’d fold the second she looked at you.”

“Don’t tell Beau.”

You laugh, and the sound is easy. Real. Everything feels easy tonight.

And it hits you again—like it’s the first time.

You’re married. To him.

[piastriprincess]

wrapped  around  your  finger ⸻  alex  albon  x  reader  .

featuring  alex  albon  ,  established  relationship  ,  disgusting  tooth  rotting  fluff  word  count  0.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  forever  ago  but  i  just  got  inspired  for it today  !!  ALEX  ALBON  P5  oh  the  man  that  you  are  …  i’m  a  mclaren  enjoyer  but  if  we  don’t  get  albodium  this  season  i  WILL  riot  .  this  is  a  bit  short  and  frankly  very  random  but  i  was  having  brainrot  about  cuddling  with  alex  and  saw  the  albon_pets  story  which  just  made  me  laugh  and  inspired  a  tiny  bit  of  the  fic  .  i  hope  you  enjoy  it  ,  anon  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  and  my  inbox  is  always  open  for  requests  !  title  is  from  linger  by  the  cranberries  .

“Okay. What am I drawing now?”

You trace your finger deliberately against the side of Alex’s arm. You’re in the hotel bed in Imola; you flew in just a few hours before, after your boyfriend mumbled through the phone after qualifying that he missed you very much and would like you to come to the race please, if you could. He’s been clingy all evening since you got to Italy, now holding your back flush against his chest in the bed, arms wrapped around your waist. You like that he always presses his arms tight against yours, like he’s not just spooning you but actively hugging you closer.

There’s silence, for a moment. Even though you’re facing away from him, you can picture his face, the way his bottom lip is probably caught between his teeth, the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s concentrating. “A cat?”

“Be more specific,” you say, smiling. 

He sighs lightly into your hair, his grip around you settling just a little tighter. “You’re expecting me to guess one of the cats based on your invisible drawing on my bicep?”

“They’re your children, you should know them by touch.” 

“Fine, okay — do it again,” he says, and you try not to laugh at the appearance of his familiar competitive streak, exactly like you knew would happen when you started this little game. Still, you oblige, dragging your finger over his skin again and watching as it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Horsey,” he says confidently. “Definitely Horsey.”

You shake your head, hiss through your teeth like a disappointed game show host. “It was Moomoo.”

“That felt nothing like Moomoo,” he protests, and you just laugh. “Are you having me on, love? Barely felt like a cat, honestly — it’d be a bit of a funny-looking thing.” 

“Well…” you say, trailing off, and Alex gasps. 

“How very dare you. Moomoo is a handsome boy,” your boyfriend says haughtily. He gives an exaggerated gulp like he’s shocked at your audacity to suggest otherwise, but you know better. Really it’s just because he knows you hate the feeling of his adam's apple bobbing against the back of your head. 

“Alex, ew, stop, it feels so weird!” you whine, squirming away from his grip, but he holds you firm against him, arms lean and strong around yours. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says lightly, doing it again. “And if you keep wiggling around it’s going to be something very different rubbing against you.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I’m scandalized, Albon.”

“It’s scandalous business,” he replies, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tread carefully.”

You snuggle in closer, cherishing the proximity after being apart for the week. There’s a yawn creeping into the edges of your voice when you speak again. “I’ll be sure to watch my step. Your turn. I’ll close my eyes, you draw.”

“If you close your eyes, you’re going to fall asleep, love,” Alex murmurs, his hand ghosting gently up and down your side in a soothing sort of motion.  

“I won’t,” you lie. You can feel the exhaustion overtaking your body, but you want the time with him more. “Promise. I’ll stay up until you go to sleep. Now draw.”

“Bossy,” he huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. There’s a pause, and then his fingertip drags slowly across your forearm. It’s delicate, precise, like he’s trying to make sure you get it right without disturbing you too much. 

You hum, trying to picture the soft touches in your mind’s eye. “Is it… a star?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a really lopsided version of the track tomorrow.”

Alex laughs, low and warm in your ear. “It’s a heart.”

“Might need to take some art classes, baby,” you tease, though you can feel your cheeks heating up even in the dark, cool room. 

“Hey, my canvas was moving,” he says, squeezing your arm as if to emphasize his terrible conditions. “And I was distracted.”

You crack one eye open at that, tilt your head back towards him even though you can’t see him. “Distracted by what?”

He shifts slightly, like he’s trying to be closer to you even though he’s basically wrapped around you by this point. When he speaks, his voice is achingly soft, almost shy. “By how happy I am you’re here.”

The sudden sincerity makes something warm bloom in your chest. You’re quiet for a beat, finding his hand in the darkness and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m happy I’m here too,” you whisper. “Even if your drawing skills are questionable.”

“Rude,” Alex mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Poured my soul into that drawing, didn’t I?”

You laugh, tired and utterly content as your eyes flutter shut again. “I lied earlier. I think I’m falling asleep.”

“I know, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand once before you let go. “Love you.”

You don’t hear his reply. You feel it, as sleep starts to drag you under. 

Alex’s finger tracing across your forearm. L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-M-O-R-E.

[moonstruckme]

hi!! 🤍

was wondering if you’d do james x reader where they’re like showering together after a long day 😓 nothing like sexual, just fluff and all where theyre just existing with each other, you know?

i love your writing btw, thankyou!! 💗💗

Lovely, you have no idea how you sent this at just the right time for me. This is exactly the sort of thing I was in the mood to write just before it popped into my inbox, thank you <3

cw: nonsexual nudity

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 489 words

Your bathroom is heavy with the scent of eucalyptus and lavender. Steam curls up by the ceiling and drips as condensation down your mirror. In front of you, the gorgeous topography of James’ back muscles shifts as he scrubs his hands through his hair, head hung forward so the water falls down over his face.

“You’re hogging all the heat,” you say. 

He laughs through his nose, turning and flipping his hair over in the process. Droplets of warm water splatter on your chest. You let him grab your hands with playful roughness, hauling you up against his front. 

“Come here, then,” he says, as though he hasn’t just manhandled you where he wants you. The eucalyptus smell is even better up close. 

“You rinse your hair like an idiot.” 

“Do I really?” 

“Mhm. It’s like you’re waterboarding yourself.” 

“That’s on you, lovie.” James turns you both, putting your back to the stream. “You shouldn’t have fallen in love with an idiot. No getting out now.” 

You don’t deny it, taking your turn to wash the shampoo from your hair. You shut your eyes as you do it, but you sense, somehow, when James’ hands are about to join your own. They don’t surprise you. His fingers are thicker than yours, starting at the base of your skull with nice, broad circular motions. 

James takes his time. He works his way from the back of your scalp from the front, starting on the outsides and moving inwards, his fingertips pressing down with just the right amount of pressure. You let your head weigh heavy in his hands. Soon, you allow your own hands to fall, relinquishing yourself to James’ ministrations. The sound of water streaming from your hair to slap on the porcelain of the tub is a strangely soothing din. 

Eventually, his hands slip from your hairline, sudsy fingers splaying on either side of your face. You open your eyes. 

James smiles. Sweet brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you say back, your mouth curving in kind. 

His thumbs push over your temples. He lays a lingering kiss on your lips, reverent. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” you murmur. “And also…” 

“Hm?” he asks, kissing you again. 

“Mm?” 

James’ smile worsens. You think that if you’re in love with an idiot, he’s something worse; he finds you funny when you’re not being anything at all. 

“And also…” he prompts. 

“And also,” you sigh, “I’m gonna fall asleep.” 

He chuckles (further evidence against him), pulling you out of the stream for a hug. You wrap your arms loosely around his waist and enjoy the slipperiness of his shoulder against your cheek. 

“That’s okay,” says James, palm drawing up your spine. “It’s been a long one, yeah? I think you’re due some rest.” 

“I’ve still got to condition your hair, though.” 

“Right, well.” He mushes his nose into your cheek. “After that, of course.”