#i will find a way to turn this into a fic

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE NEED

Joel Miller x f!reader || 550 words

Summary: Joel gets you ready to take him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, fingering, f!oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink.

A/n: Written for @jolacheese ‘s B&B Trope Search challenge💞 Trope - ‘overstimulation’. Motive - ‘the horny’. Beta-ed by @milla-frenchy ily baby😍😘 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“No way you’ll be able to take my cock, darlin.”

You’re standing in front of Joel, eyes glossy with need, tears glistening on your lashes.

“I can! I… I’ve had sex before.”

Joel tuts, shaking his head.

“Nah… No one’s as big as me. And I ain’t hurtin you. ‘s not my thing.”

“But Joel,” you plead, one second away from falling to your knees and crawling to his bulge like it’s a bright beacon in the darkest night. “It’ll stretch, I know it! Give me a chance.”

You want him.

You need him.

You’ve never craved anyone this much. No one but Joel.

You are sobbing quietly, but soon your tears get bigger, your whimpers louder. Joel watches you from under his bushy eyebrows, then raises his huge hands with a sigh and motions for you to step up closer.

In a flash you’re standing between his spread legs, eager and excited, desperation in your eyes slowly drowning in hope.

“Show me. Need to see what I’m workin with.”

You pull your skirt up and your underwear down as swiftly as possible, scared that he’ll change his mind.

Joel sits up straight with a grunt, one warm hand wraps around the back of your thigh, while he begins inspecting you with the other. He pushes his middle finger between your folds and slowly drags it up and down, making you moan and tremble.

“Holy… you’re drenched. Really want this cock, huh?”

”Yeah.”

Your body is buzzing with arousal, your knees are ready to buckle, when Joel pinches your clit and rubs it lightly with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh, Joel…”

He chuckles, seeing you melt.

“Softest pussy ya got here, baby. Needs to be kissed, licked. Sure you want my big dick anywhere near her?”

“I do, I do, Joel.” There’s not a trace of doubt in your voice. “I need you more than air.”

Joel scoffs and mumbles ‘poetic’ under his nose.

You’re still standing up, one foot on Joel’s thigh for his better viewing, two of his thick fingers knuckles deep in your pussy.

He’s been examining you for twenty minutes at least, has already made you come twice, turning you into a complete mess. You’re breathing fast, fire is licking at your core, your folds are engorged and covered in your cum juices.

“Look... You’re leakin down my hand, sweetheart,” he marvels. “Sweet little pussy… openin up fast but I need more. Can’t have you cryin on my cock, can I?“

You dig your fingers into his shoulders and whimper, when his third digit finds home in your sopping cunt.

“Mmh... Good girl.”

When he leans down and kisses your oversensitive clit, you feel like your soul is leaving your body, ascending into heavens. A flick of his hot wet tongue against your twitching bud— and you explode, mewling and moaning, clenching his greying curls, wriggling against his face in painful ecstasy.

“One more finger, baby,” he gruffs, voice muffled by your pussy. ”One more and I’ll give you my cock.”

Trying to catch your breath, you slightly lean forward and watch Joel push his pinkie in your stretched hole. It’s too much but you’re revelling in this sensation. You’ve never felt so full in your life. So complete.

Finally, Joel looks up at you, his face dark with lust, and orders,

“Lie down. She’s ready.”

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!❤️

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @thedilfdiaries @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

[grotesquevi]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ YOUR LOVE HAS GOT ME GOING ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ LIKE YOU COULDN'T IMAGINE.

cw  #  18+ mdni, stripper!reader + older and divorced!ellie getting all hot and bothered, dirty talk, contains metaphors to addiction and vices, fingering in the bonus side yikes. i'm sorry mutuals, i'm not usually like this but made this everything sean baker’s was dreaming of when he wrote anora with his dick.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ boycott tlou || check out my fic directory

side note  #  i went above and beyond to search for this two motherfuckers, they were not even in tumblr so i thank this to moya since i had to go to the dark places to get 'em aka the wayback machine on internet's archive. if you recognize this? or are you my pillar nonnie? you may be confused but its because tumblr deleted my old account thinking i was a fucking bot, i used to be under the name vicorices. bare. with. me — wonderful art bellow by @nramv

things would be different if you weren't blatantly pressing your ass against ellie's belt, cause those feelings she exhaustingly told herself not to have? — she suffering from all of them.

it may have to be with the outfit or the lack of it, the way your long, pointed nails scratch over her naked arms. but it's the perfect combination to make all this façade of having her life already sorted out fall apart to the ground when she recently signed up her divorce papers and she's there, getting a lap dance from this girl she really, really fucking likes, as if she wasn't slipping dollar bills beneath the thin strip of your underwear.

so she's been in a similar situation before, promising herself she wont ever step a fucking toe back in the club — she's not that kind of person anyway, the kind that salivates over strippers. the club's packed with men, and being the only girl there it's almost shameful as she has this need to go on and ask for a lap dance from you cause yeah she's greedy, greedy, spoiled, ravenous: ellie has now turned into a junkie trying to get more of their vices.

and in the secluded room, she forgets about previous inhibitions cause you're leaning against her, dancing along the sound of the music already sitting in her lap and her mind bubbles around this stupid rule, the one that forbids her to touch you under any sense of the word if she wants to keep her hands attached to her arms, but she's temped, tempted even when the security camera is pointing right in front of you two.

"yeah? that's what you'd like huh?" the sound of your voice is almost normal, a huge contrast when ellie's feeling like drowning, when the bass on the speaker’s so low it resonates in her damn heart, pouring all over her like ocean waves in the sand "want me to be your little spoiled slut? you'd buy me expensive gifts and get me out of this hellhole?"

ellie's glasses rest on the lower part of her nose, almost slipping as she looks up to you, cheeks blushed cause she's hella ashamed of it, hellhole. when she's in the club you almost rejoice in bliss happiness cause she has money, a pretty face, nice hands and more important — she's not a pervert guy.

there's a huge difference between a perverted guy and a perverted girl in your brain — cause while 50-years-old trying to hit on you disgust you, she's in her 30's and in the best fucking moment of her life and you’re struggling to not ask her to touch you.

"i- fuck. i really don't know why i'm here" ellie admitted the first time after seeing your pole routine of a much shorter version of bauhaus's 'bela lugosi's death', conflicted as you're pushed to talk to her because of your boss: business, it's fucking business "don't know how this works."

"you should ask me for a private dance," you reply, of course you want to dance for her, feel her closer and she won’t say no, no when your index finger trail down her collarbone "maybe you can start finding out by that."

there's something insanely hot about the idea of taking a woman so put together completely apart. ellie knows that, you do. so when she comes back again two nights after, and every-single-time after that, she makes sure to ask for you, name loud and clear in her lips as she enters and you know, just know it's going to be a good night — please, fucking pay for me the rest of the night.

wrong. sets back feminism at least 30 years, but ellie's there anyway, seated like she is during various times the week, letting you take control of her cause it's just what she needs, comfortably seated on a velvet couch with you on top; it seems like the cure to all her ruins — how is she not going to be infatuated with you? how is she not going to suffer from withdrawal when she don't see you for days?

"you know i can," she replies, and your skin shivers against the serious tone in her voice, almost recovered from her sore throat as she takes a sip from the heavy glass of neat whiskey in the table next to the seat "i can afford your lifestyle if that's what you're asking. let me take care of you."

she don't know what's so funny, what entertains you so much as you giggle on top of her, but ellie's distracted as she stares at the tiny underwear you're wearing, the friction between you and her as her fingers ache to reach and touch you, make the triangle on your ass to the damn side.

the sound of your laugh catches her off-guard, and she don’t think when her hand gently pushes you down, making you rest your weight against her legs and let yourself rub your thin underwear in her jeans: sin feels good when you do it right cause shit if it's not the best thing in the world when you're taking her hands in between yours, polished and soft, they guide ellie into your sides, allowing her to trail down your body before giving a sly look to the camera, almost afraid you're going to be caught.

leaving her hands in your thighs seems an invitation cause your movements get slower. fuck the song, if someone's looking, let the lucky bastard live enough to see ellie's hand rub circles in the skin of your inner leg, close to the little outfit you're pulling and barely manages to cover your cunt.

your back presses against her chest, resting against her frame as you move your hips in slow circles, making ellie feel the scent of your perfume in her nose, the way it lingers in the air surrounding the private room.

"ask me again," you whisper, and her gaze lingers in the front part of your body as you lay on top of her: the curves on your skin, the silver and glittery fabric that cover your tits — nipples hard beneath as she has the damn need to use her right hand to do something much better than just sweetly touching your fucking leg "i'll be your good new wife, let you whine about your important job, fuck the stress out of you, all domestic and shit."

it's the way you say it, how you move on top of her, the sparkles splattered in your skin that makes you seem almost ethereal, however it makes ellie moan as she's nodding already on an invisible leash you tied around her neck from the very first time she came, intoxicating, her right hand moves from your leg to your hip, back to your navel and up to your very ribs.

"they are going to see that," you said, the camera always a fucking reminder of her ripping need to have a bit of decency, self-control as ellie's cheeks turn red — "you cannot touch me, love."

"to be fair at this point club 976's alive thanks to me" draining her money cent by fucking cent, she’s sure she keeps the place rolling during the week "so let them be pissed, m'snatching their best worker and takin' her away from this dump anyway."

it must be evil, should be if it isn't, cause just like you landed on her lap you're swiftly turning to face her as you dance, dragging your nails across her chest as from this angle, she becomes aware of your barely covered pussy that grinds against her legs; yeah, she has a much better view of your fingers slipping beneath her belt, of you basking in bliss almost unaware of how stupid ellie’s left when you're around.

"you really mean that?" you ask almost like it's a secret, and she’s smashed with this need of pulling you into a kiss, get lost in the threads of your hair “don’t fuck with me ellie.”

"i'll pay for your nails," her words are warm, her breathing now heavier as her fingers toy with the hem of your underwear: one little tug and it will surely let ellie see your soaked folds, sure you're wet when she see's the splotch in your underwear, the darker hue right between your legs "your clothes, fuck. i'll take you to fancy restaurants anything you want, just- just say you let me."

she can’t pay for interest, that reaction you got when moving on top of her, that almost silent moan you make as you dance or grind to seek for more friction. fuck it, she really don’t know it at this point.

“that’s enough for fifteen minutes,” she’s not aware also of the other people in the room until you’re standing up and she’s going to whine about the lack of touch until you’re screaming at the guard that’s yanking her outside the club — “respect the girls or don’t fucking show up here, got it?”

“outside,” she manages to says to you as she’s being pulled away “ah fuck off man- i’ll wait for you outside!”

the biggest surprise of the night though? she was serious, dead fucking serious; so when you’re leaving the club at almost five in the morning, she’s smoking there, back against her black mercedes as she tilts her head satisfied you’re looking out for her.

yes, ellie williams’s leash is tied to this pretty stripper she has in her sheets, spread over her kitchen island, under the cascading water of her shower, wearing her shirt, eating her food, taking her life — hand-cuffed.

i totally envision it and i’m getting brainrot about rich and divorced!ellie whos ex wife hates you when noticing how fucked up you have her already, wrapped around your finger — ellie’s important to her clearly and you’re quickly becoming a distraction: too much weed, late nights talking, buying you clothes, not picking up the damn phone. shocking cause makes ellie miss up work one morning since you convinced her to call in sick: yeah she’s important to the company, but why can’t she spend just one little morning with you? just one. cross your heart cause you’ll make her time worth it.

she likes it even when you’re a danger to her lifestyle, when you’re slipping inside her office after your collage classes (same ones she’s already offering to pay), and you go there sitting on her lap as ellie tries to be concentrated in reading this paper about the growing insides of the economy for tomorrow, but you’re making it hard to keep her attention in her best behaviour when you’re leaning to see more of her work curious about it, and she has the best view she could ever ask from your bare back and those pajama shorts you use to roam around her penthouse.

so politely fuck work. ellie’s planting some wet kisses on your back, her fingers tug on your crop top and suddenly, you’re leaving wrinkles over her papers cause you’re gripping the wood desk too hard in hopes to hold onto anything, anything that connects you to earth and prevents you from spiraling. shit, shit, shit. how did it end up like that? how she’s so quick to make you stand between her legs? to bend so she can shove her fingers on your already wet pussy? it’s so easy for her to reduce you to this state, this plain mess. her gaze seems to burn holes in your skin, wanting to say something about you ruining her work, yet her mind does not function when she cannot say nothing more than, — “that’s it- can you bend for me? cheek against the desk baby.”

her free hand holds on the fabric of your short and your panties to the side, keeping them hooked in a finger as she uses it to make you move, a gentle pull that invites you to roll your hips back to meet her digits again before she’s slowly shoving a third finger inside and yeah, work can wait.

“faster,” you ask, a lewd sound filling the air when your arousal drips on her hand, coates her palm and makes your folds glisten in evidence of your needs, only gaining a needy sound in return when she’s compelled to follow your orders, keep you satisfied “fuck ellie- s’good you’re filling me so damn good.”

it’s dangerous cause she’s driven by your words, those sounds she loves to hear, the way you seem to suck her fingers deep inside until she’s curling them to rub on your velvety walls, that spot you overly enjoy and ellie discovered during the week: sure.

work can wait for an hour or two, she has better things to take care of now.

[luvergirl-535]

What about a fluffy shot where Azzi is a pouty mess after finding out Paige napped without her.

napgate

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 1.3k

c/w - nothing :)

a/n - working through my prompts as promised. as someone who has lots of experience in being a dramatic girlfriend, i may have projected myself into this fic a little, lol.

azzi was halfway across campus before she even realized she was speed-walking.

she’d barely survived class. barely made it through that dry-ass econ lecture without just laying her head on the desk and giving up. all she wanted—all she’d been thinking about—was going back to paige’s room, climbing into bed with her girlfriend, and napping like her life depended on it.

this was their post-practice ritual. their unspoken sacred time. snuggles, sleep, and soft music. the occasional make-out session. as paige would say, it’s fucking goated.

when azzi got to paige’s dorm, she walked right past allie in the kitchen, social battery entirely too low for anybody other than paige, and beelined for her girlfriend’s bedroom. but when she opened the door, sight that met her was not one of sleepy cuddles and open arms.

paige was awake. sitting upright at her desk. playing games on her ipad like everything was fine.

“wait,” azzi said, stopping in her tracks. “why are you awake?”

paige looked up and smiled. “hey, mama.”

“nuh-uh—why are you awake? we’re supposed to be napping.”

“i already did,” paige said, like it was casual, like it was nothing. “i laid down after chem lab. i was wiped.”

azzi blinked. stared. processed. then—

“you slept without me?”

“uh…yeah?”

“you slept without me?”

paige squinted. “are you okay?”

“babe!” azzi threw her bag down like she’d been personally victimized. “i was waiting all day for our nap! i was like, ‘this lecture sucks but it’s okay because i’ll nap with paige later’, and you already did it? without me?”

“aight, you’re dragging it,” paige said, standing now, walking over with a cautious smile. “i was just tired.”

“we were both tired!”

“baby…”

“nah, don’t ‘baby’ me. this is—this is a betrayal.”

paige stepped closer, clearly holding back a laugh. “okay. you’re right. i’m a villain.”

“you are,” azzi pouted, crossing her arms. “you left me to fend for myself. exhausted.”

“i didn’t know you were planning on coming back right after class.”

“we nap every day after class!”

“sometimes we don’t.” paige shrugged. “we didn’t talk about it this morning, so i thought…”

“it’s an unspoken thing, paige.” azzi sighs, eyebrows furrowed as she makes her best pouty face, an expression reserved exclusively for her girlfriend.

paige reached for her. “come here, drama queen.”

“no,” azzi said, turning her shoulder.

“you’re seriously mad?”

“i’m disappointed.”

“bro, that’s way worse.”

“you should feel bad.”

paige sighed and wrapped her arms around azzi anyway, tugging her into a hug she pretended not to want. “i do feel bad. i love napping with you. i missed you, mami. i swear.”

“you didn’t miss me that much if you slumped without even texting me.”

“i thought you’d be in class ‘til three.”

“i was! and now it’s three-fifteen and i’m abandoned.”

paige kissed her cheek. “come lay down. i’ll pretend to be tired again just for you.”

but azzi stepped out of her arms, eyes narrowed, full-on sulky. she was aware she was disproportionately upset. she was also aware that she was tired and probably hangry, too. that didn’t make it any easier for her to regulate her emotions, though, and thus:

“no. you made your bed. literally. and now you can lie in it. alone.”

paige blinked. “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying i’ll nap by myself, thanks.”

“wait, what?”

“i’ll be fine. totally fine. just me, my blanket, and my thoughts.”

“azzi.”

“goodbye, traitor.”

and with the dramatic flourish of a woman deeply committed to the bit, azzi turned and left paige’s room, arms crossed and jaw set. allie paused with her spoon midway to her mouth, clearly confused, but azzi ignored her. she headed straight for her own dorm without looking back.

❀❀❀

azzi curled up in her own bed like she was in exile. self-inflicted exile.

no girlfriend. no cuddles. no comfort.

just her sad pink blanket and her non-bicep pillow.

she flipped over once. then twice. then kicked the blanket off. then dragged it back on.

her room was too quiet. too cold. too wrong.

because napping alone? sucked.

it wasn’t just the lack of warmth (though her body was already missing paige’s). it wasn’t even that she felt too grumpy to relax. it was the principle of it all. the complete and utter emptiness of trying to sleep without her person.

she missed the way paige’s arms fit around her waist. the soft hum paige always made when she was drifting off. the way their legs always tangled up without trying.

and now azzi was lying here, wide awake, very much not cozy, and spiraling into her own stubbornness.

“this is stupid,” she whispered into the darkness of her dorm.

but she didn’t get up.

no. she had to mean it. she couldn’t just crawl back after throwing such a fit. she had to last at least an hour. maybe even text paige something petty like “hope ur nap was worth it.”

yeah. that would show her.

except…thirty-five minutes later, azzi was still not asleep. and worse: she’d started to feel lonely.

not just bored. not just annoyed. actually, genuinely…achey in her chest. she missed paige. like, on a spiritual level. she momentarily wondered if that was unhealthy, then disregarded it. god forbid a girl be in love.

ugh.

“fine,” she muttered.

she threw the blanket off, jammed her feet into pink fluffy slippers, and padded back down the hallway like she was walking the plank or something.

allie was still in the kitchen, and when she raised an eyebrow at azzi, she said a simple “don’t” before continuing to paige’s room.

when she reached the door, she paused. tried to school her expression. tried not to look too desperate.

but before she could knock, the door opened.

paige stood there, in pajama pants and a hoodie, holding a fuzzy blanket like she’d been waiting.

“you lasted thirty-eight minutes,” she said, smug.

“oh, really?” azzi said. “i wasn’t counting.”

“mm-hmm.”

azzi crossed her arms. “you set a trap.”

“i made the bed.”

“you knew i’d come back.”

“of course i did,” paige said, stepping aside to let her in. “you can’t nap mad. you get all huffy and lonely.”

“i do not.”

paige just raised an eyebrow.

azzi sighed. “okay, maybe i do.”

“that’s what i thought.”

the room was dim now, blinds pulled and led lights on. paige’s bed had an extra pillow and two blankets folded at the end. her spotify was already playing the soft r&b playlist they always used. azzi swore she could feel her melatonin levels rise.

“you baby-proofed the bed,” azzi mumbled.

“i azzi-proofed it. for you.”

“you’re so annoying,” she said. but she was already climbing into it.

paige followed, slipping behind her and wrapping an around her waist without hesitation. azzi let out a dramatic sigh, but melted into the touch immediately.

“still mad?” paige whispered. she shifted her free arm under azzi’s head, and she didn’t let on how pleased she was to have her bicep pillow back.

“uh-huh.”

“gonna give me the silent treatment?”

“maybe.”

paige kissed her shoulder. “you’re such a baby.”

“you like it.”

“yep. i especially like the part where you come crawling back.”

azzi turned to face her, burying her face in paige’s neck. “i wasn’t crawling.”

“riiight.”

“you missed me,” azzi accused, muffled.

“missed you so bad,” paige said, kissing the top of her head. “bed was too cold without you.”

azzi hummed, nuzzling closer. “you smell good.”

“you smell like my body wash. did you steal it again?”

“maybe.”

“mm,” paige hummed, tugging the blanket up around them.

they settled into the silence again, but this time it was warm. safe. exactly right.

“you can nap now,” azzi mumbled.

“what, you’re giving me permission?”

“yes.”

paige smiled against her hair. “thank you, princess.”

“you’re forgiven, by the way.”

“finally.”

“but don’t do it again.”

“‘wouldn’t think of it, baby.”

“swear you won’t. for real.”

“on my life.”

“you’re lucky i love you,” azzi whispered.

paige kissed her cheek. “i know i’m lucky.”

and with that, azzi finally let herself fall asleep—held tight, babied properly, grudge surrendered and balance to the universe restored.

[spideyjimin]

Break my heart | jjk

—  pairing: jungkook x female reader 

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

— rating: 18+ 

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

—  words: 18,123

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

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

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

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She steps back, meeting your eyes with a grin.

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

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

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

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

You shake your head; they are both annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I just needed a reason to stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Although this is overwhelming, it’s not enough.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you whisper.

“We’re friends,” he instantly answers.

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

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

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

“I’m all yours tonight, Jungkook.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” he nods.

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

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

“Getting bored?” she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely,” you answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t wait,” he smirks.

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

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

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

This is your best friend.

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

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

“Undress for me, baby,” he commands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs.

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

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

And yet, he’s here. With you.

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

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

But who cares? You both want this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you moan.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jungkook,” you moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head with a smile on your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, move please,” you beg him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not.

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

So why does this feel like goodbye?

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

And then, it hits him.

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

He secretly hoped for more.

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

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

“Hi Tae,” he says when picking up.

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

Jungkook instantly freezes.

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

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

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

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

“Why?” his friend sounds confused.

 “She was just a booty call.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week later

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

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

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

“I need to shower!” you continue.

“Not my problem,” he shouts.

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

“Leave,” you order flatly.

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

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

“Dickhead,” you spit.

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

You roll your eyes.

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

“Slight improvement,” he smirks.

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

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

You throw your arms up.

“Okay, fine,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head.

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

“Until he stops being a jerk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is dirty and wild.

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

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

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

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

Two weeks later

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

But it wasn’t true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” he asks without looking at you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you insisting?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So any life updates?” Mara asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not true,” you reply.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re crazy.”

She’s actually not joking.

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

“Okay, I’ll stop it.”

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

The next day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s the pack for?” Jungkook asks.

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

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

“It’s for me.”

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

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

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

“Your fucking delivery disturbed me,” he growls.

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

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

“That you’re a pain in the ass.”  

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

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

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

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

A chuckle escapes his pretty lips.

“Oh, you can’t handle me now?”

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

“Jungkook,” you warn.

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

“You’re a dick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so sensitive.”

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

Two days later

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

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

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

“Hi, Chris,” you smile back at him.

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

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

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

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

“Still partying and hooking up?” he asks.

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

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

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

Your words warm his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

“How?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It definitely was,” he smiles as well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, if you want,” he smiles.

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

“See you tomorrow then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who told you that?”

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

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

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

“It’s not true,” he mumbles.

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

Jungkook takes a step closer.

“I don’t care,” he says.

You chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yn,” he warns you. “Stop it.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Yn,” he says, his voice softer now.

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

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

“Not until you repeat what you said.”

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

He rolls his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

That’s it. You snap.

“Fuck you,” you nearly scream.

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

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

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

No man has ever made you feel this raw.

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

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

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

Your voice trembles, but you say it anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said that,” he frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re so stupid,” he whispers.

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

“More than stupid,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

You nod.

“I’ll go to my room then.”

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

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

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

Suddenly, the said roommate appears in front of you.

Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a look, mirroring his stubbornness.

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

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

Chris looks between you two and sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you with a gaze that burns.

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

“No,” you honestly answer.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook chuckles before shaking his head.

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

This man will be the death of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook,” you moan.

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

“I need you inside me,” you mumble.

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

“Then do it,” you instantly reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always pretty,” you clap back.

“I’m not saying the opposite.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or what?” you dare to tease me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week later

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

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

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

But you’ve never been this happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, letting the sound float between you.

“Guess I’m a good influence.”

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

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

Then his voice drops, quiet but certain.

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat tightens. You nod.

“Only if you promise the same.”

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

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

“And I’ll do the same.”

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

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

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

[neptunecaptains]

In The Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're finding it difficult to sleep in your new home. Bucky knows how to fix it.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), oral sex (f receiving; I like a giver), fingering, defiling a kitchen.

A/N: This is from a long time ago... was just going through fics I wrote when I used to love the MCU and came across this one. If there's anyone on here from way back then, it might sound familiar. Imagine this to be set in some multiverse where Steve never left in Endgame and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Fic (masterlist coming soon!)

♡♡♡♡

The clock’s just gone ten past twelve when he feels you slip out of bed.

Bucky shouldn’t know that— the time. He should be dead to the world, asleep in the comfort of his bed with his girl warm by his side, full and sated and happy thanks to good company, good food, and even better liquor that can actually do something to him. Instead, he’s hyper-aware and questioning why you wouldn’t be dead asleep too and, before he knows it, he’s following in your footsteps.

It’s jarring, being awake at this hour in a mostly-empty home.

The halls feel too narrow and you still haven’t put the pictures up so the walls look bare and cold, and the dining table is missing a leg so you had to have dinner on the couch but you couldn’t find the box with the cushions which, now that Bucky thinks about it is probably still at the compound and god that means he has to go up there again— 

“Hey,” he hears, whisper-soft and cautious.

For a moment Bucky feels like maybe you’re the one who woke up to go after him, like how you used to do so long ago, worried about things neither of you could control. But no, it’s him, looking for you.

It’s him, finding you tired and rumpled in front of the stove, the red kettle Nat gave you as a gift steaming away on the burner. With the lights dimmed you look like a dream, but then again you look like that at any time of the day.

Bucky’s hands find your hips easily, skin and metal brushing over soft skin and worn cotton. They slip beneath your sleep shirt, a faded old thing he got as a gag gift some Christmases ago— Sam still asks him about the vulgar print on the front. Bucky tries to forget, but you never let him. Especially not on nights you wear the damn thing to bed.

He finds warmth, the same kind that should be next to him in bed right now, which— “Can’t sleep?”

You sigh, melting easily into the embrace. Your nose is cold, colder than it has any right to be with the heat on, nuzzling against the rough scratch of hair along his jaw. “Feels weird.”

It does— the house. Well, home, now, filled with your clothes and your furniture and the dishes you put in the dishwasher after your friends left a few hours ago because our first meal in our new home can’t be in paper plates, Buck and I already took the glasses out of the box, baby and he’s never been good at saying no. The house feels weird and he can’t wait until it doesn’t, with the pictures up, and the throw blanket on the couch, and those damn cushions he can’t believe he forgot.

“Bet you’d feel better back in bed,” Bucky murmurs, smiles, lips soft against the skin of your neck. “With me.”

You hum, could be a snort if it were any time except almost one in the morning and if you hadn’t spent the whole day hauling boxes and building whatever furniture you could before exhaustion won out. “I just put the kettle on.”

Bucky looks at the offending piece of kitchenware over your shoulder, willing it to somehow set on fire but wait, no. That would be very, very bad. Bucky has a mortgage now, shit.

“Okay,” he says instead, shrugging. “We’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice the time. Instead, he notices your palms on his cheeks and your thumbs over his cheekbones; the way you taste of mint and something else, something like cloves and honey, no doubt from the sips you stole from his drink during the moving-day-turned-housewarming. He notices the way you sink into his body, held up by his arms caging you against the counter behind you, moaning softly at the wet sweeps of his tongue against the seam of your lips, parting under the pressure.

Bucky grips the countertop a bit too hard, gritting his teeth as he breaks the kiss. “How long ‘til that thing goes off?”

“We’re not defiling our kitchen so soon,” you laugh into his lips, sweet. The hands on his cheeks pull his face further away until you’re squinting up at him, lips spit-slick and shiny in the low light delighted and knowing all the same. “This is where we eat—”

“And I’m hungry,” Bucky grins, wicked, matches your own expression if only a bit dirtier. “Might as well use it for what it’s for, right?”

This time you do snort, forehead resting against his own. The sound settles deep in Bucky’s bones, spreading all over his body in places he didn’t know he had, warm and buzzing like a beehive. “You’re so gross.”

He is. He really, really is and he blames it all on himself and on you and the way you sigh into his mouth when he gets his hands above the swell of your ass, one of his thick thighs slipping between your own, warmth seeping everywhere you touch him. He blames it on those pretty eyes and that pretty mouth, those hands tugging at the bottom half of his hair that’s untied, that sweet voice moaning into the night when he nips at that spot behind your ear— 

“Baby.”

"Bucky," you laugh softly, glancing at him. It’s near-dark, the lights still dimmed, but he swears he can map out the marks on your skin, can count every single lash on your eyelids.

"Baby," he replies in the same tempting tone, watching your eyes with his own, so clear and expressive, so stunning.

You sigh, resigned. Bucky doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“We’re gonna have to clean in the morning.”

“Guess I’ll have to suffer,” he says, hands warm on your thighs hauling you onto the counter.

He’s gentle as he parts your thighs, takes his time kissing the inside until you’re sighing all breathy and sweet, trembling on both sides of his head. Fingers hooking onto gray cotton, he slides your panties down your legs, bringing you closer to the edge of the counter and towards his mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes so blue when they flick up to your own.

Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the hair tie holding the longest strands back. Your lips part in a smile, wavering slightly at the edges as he ducks in, tongue soft and wet against your heat. He licks a broad stripe along your folds, takes in the way you shake almost imperceptibly— only knows it happens because he’s looking for it.

Bucky drinks you in, picks you apart with his tongue and his fingers, wet along his lips, his jaw, and his flesh fingers. He makes it messy, lets you whine and wail into your otherwise quiet home, grinding your hips onto his face and the two digits plunging inside your cunt, stroking that sweet spot deep inside.

You come apart on his tongue, slowly and quietly, a breathy gasp and the rhythmic clench of your muscles against his fingers the only warning he gets before he feels even more wetness pooling on his tongue, dripping down his palm.

“Oh!”

He kisses at the inside of your thighs, leaves it wet and sticky as you come down from your high. His thumbs caress your hipbones, feeling the slight quiver of your core against his touch, reveling in it.

To his right, the kettle starts whistling.

“Water’s boiling, honey,” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin in the crease of your thighs.

You groan, fingers tugging at the hair tangled in them. “I hate you.”

Bucky laughs, throaty and with his chest, slightly loud at a time where the night seems to stand still. There’s only the rush of your breath and the whistle of the kettle, drawn-out and cut off as he turns the burner off and moves it onto a cold, unused one. He gravitates between your thighs once more, lips on yours like magnets. He kisses you slowly, takes his time and lets you bite at his bottom lip, slipping your tongue against his and pulling those sounds from his throat that play in your head like your favorite song.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You sigh deeply, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.”

Bucky feels it spread from the top of his head down to his toes, fingers on your waist curling into fabric and skin. It’s hot and cold, bad and good. He feels it.

“Anywhere you want, sugar.”

Happiness.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ six thirty . . . c.s

in which . . . chris can’t resist fucking you in the morning

warnings . . . smut, cockwarming, unprotected sex, making out, praise, use of pet names, soft!dom!chris. (no somnophilia!!)

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

it’s 6:30 a.m. and the sun hasn’t fully risen yet. the room is bathed in soft blue-gray light, quiet except for the steady hum of the fan and the lazy rustle of sheets. your eyes are half-closed, still drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and chris is beside you, warm, tousled, bare-chested. his arm is already draped over your waist, fingers curling slightly like they don’t know how to let go of you even in his sleep. he shifts a little, breath warm against your neck, and then… he kisses your shoulder. slow. soft. like it’s instinct. like his mouth just belongs there. “you awake?” he murmurs, voice gravelly, ruined by sleep. you hum, pressing your back against his chest. “barely.”

“mm. good,” he whispers, nosing along your jaw. “just stay right here.” you feel him smile against your skin before his lips find your neck, slow, warm, and unhurried. it’s not a kiss meant to wake you up. it’s a kiss that says i missed you even in my dreams. you turn to face him, eyes still heavy, and he looks wrecked in the prettiest way. messy hair, swollen lips, that sleepy look in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

“you always kiss me like that before sunrise?” you tease, voice soft. he grins, lazy and dangerous. “only when you sleep in my shirt.” you glance down, his shirt hangs off your shoulder, thin and wrinkled. no bra. just skin and fabric and heat building between you. “you gonna start something you can’t finish, chris?” you murmur. his hand slips under the shirt, fingers grazing your hip. “not a chance.”

the kiss starts slow, just a brush of lips, lazy and sweet. then he deepens it, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs you closer. your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a groan from his throat. he rolls you onto your back, never breaking the kiss, moving over you like he’s done it a thousand times. his knee slots between your thighs, his mouth claiming yours again, deeper, messier. your breaths start coming faster, mouths moving like you’ve got nowhere to be. because you don’t. “you know,” he mumbles against your lips, “we could sleep in…”

“you think i’m sleeping after that kiss?” he laughs, low and warm, and then kisses you again. and again. and again. hands exploring slowly, lips trailing fire down your neck, across your collarbone, under the hem of his shirt. every touch feels like a question he’s already answered a hundred times.

his shirt rides higher up your body with every kiss, and you swear it’s the only thing keeping you from coming completely undone. his hand slips beneath it, palm warm against your stomach, fingers skimming slow, lazy circles that have you squirming underneath him. “you’re so warm,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “so soft…” you tug at his waistband, fingertips teasing just under the hem of his boxers, and he hisses through his teeth, forehead dropping to yours, breath hot. “careful,” he warns, voice low and strained. “you’re gonna make me forget how to be gentle.”

“maybe i don’t want gentle,” you whisper. that’s all it takes.

he exhales sharply, eyes flicking to yours for permission, just a flicker. and you nod, already pulling him closer, already lifting your hips to meet him. the shirt is gone first. his hands tug it up and off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder. his eyes rake down your body like he’s been starving, like this is something he’s craved in secret every damn night you’ve slept next to him. and then he’s on you again, mouth on your chest, your stomach, your thighs. kissing, biting, marking you slowly. you moan into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling him closer as he takes his time with every inch of skin like it’s something sacred.

“fuck, chris,” you whisper, breath catching. he smirks against your skin. “yeah, baby? you like that?” you nod and grab his jaw, pulling him up to kiss you again, this time desperate. teeth, tongue, heat. it’s sloppy, breathless, perfect. he groans into your mouth, grinding into you with just enough pressure to make your thighs shake. he kisses you hard, and this time, there’s no teasing. no waiting. he lines himself up with your entrance, eyes locked on yours, and when he pushes himself in, you both gasp. the stretch. the heat. the way he fills you like he was made for you.

he moves slow at first, deep, deliberate, his name spilling from your lips like prayer. every thrust pulls another sound from you, every grind of his hips makes you arch and cling to him harder. he’s everywhere, in everything. the morning light catching on his skin, the rough groan in your ear, the hand on your thigh keeping you wide open for him. “chris..” you mumble, his thrusts nice and slow.

“you feel unreal,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “you are unreal.” you kiss him before you can say something too soft. but he already knows. he always knows. you reach that edge and cum together, his pace quickens, your legs tighten around him, and the air fills with broken moans and whispered curses. when it hits, it’s not just physical. it’s electric. overwhelming. consuming. like you’ve given in to something that’s been building for so long. afterward, he doesn’t move right away. just collapses against you, both of you still panting, bodies tangled and sticky and flushed.

“so…” he says eventually, grinning. “this our new morning routine?” you laugh, lips brushing his shoulder. “if it is, i’m never leaving this bed again.”he hums, trailing lazy fingers down your spine. “let me just keep my cock in you, yeah?” chris smiles, his cum and his length still stuffed inside you. and with the sun barely rising, chris wrapped around you like gravity, and your body still buzzing from him.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: shittt i missed my opportunity to do the greatest thing ever and post this at 6:30 am but i slept in!! 😭

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

Welcome to another 9-1-1 Hiatus! Here is Buddie Rec List Number 8 to keep you all fed during the break. I’ve been compiling these fics for a whileee, so this is going to be kind of long. Find my other Buddie Rec Lists HERE REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car by @crazygirleddie | T | 4k

Buck gets sloppy drunk with Hen and decides this is the perfect time to go to Eddie and tell him he loves him. This fic is so wholesome and hilarious, and I love the way the author writes Buck and Eddie in this. 

you will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singin by @sergeantchenford | T | 2k

A short and sweet fic where Buck mopes about Eddie moving to El Paso, has a conversation with Bobby, and goes to a charity event. I think we all need some Bobby and Buck interactions right now, and obviously, Eddie isn’t leaving, and Chris is coming home!

my heart wants to come home by @sergeantchenford | T | 5.8k

Another fic by the very talented Jules, but this one is about Buck and Eddie catnapping an old lady's cat and talking about dying alone. Very sweet ending <3

The Bunkroom Fic by exvichan | T | 11k

This is the bunk room bottle fic we deserve! Incredible, absolutely amazing fic! 

emails i can't send by @drmellking | T | 5.9k

Another wonderful fic by my beloved friend April <3 Buck leaves his email account open on his laptop while looking after Jee, and she accidentally presses send on all the emails Buck wrote but never meant for Eddie to see. 

(we tried) we said we'd keep in touch by @chronicowboy | T | 6.8k

With Eddie in El Paso, Buck isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, so he agrees to cover someone else’s shift rather than go to the FireFam Christmas party. Eddie has other plans. And I am rocking in a corner and crying over how perfect and cozy this fic is, literally all the feels xx

Songbird by @colonoscopys | E | 71k

Country Singer Eddie AU that is so horrendously heartbreakingly horrifically incredible. My heart was literally in my throat the whole time, and honestl,y this fic is so beautiful, you just have to read it!

Snickerdoodles of Longing by @elvensorceress | E | 52k

Would this really be a Meegs rec list without a Jenwyn fic?? This is the Eddie moves to Texas fic we all deserved as he makes the decision to leave and then slowly unravels as he realizes what he really wants and what he's losing. There’s also a part two of this that I have yet to read, but I can guarantee it will also be incredible because everything Jenwyn writes is just *chefs kiss*. 

A Place For You, Next to Me by @spotsandsocks | M | 23k

I have very talented mutuals, okay, so here’s a beautiful fic from the wonderful Spotty. Buck decides to do something special for Eddie’s birthday, but his plans are about to be thwarted because oh my goodness THERE’S ONLY ONE BED *cheers and screams from the fandom* 

Five Years by aubrey_writes | M | 8k

Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence. 

A Hole in the World by @thatdisasterauthor | T | 61k 

Buck tries to help someone having what he thinks is a medical emergency while he’s at the grocery store, but his kindness is taken for granted when he is KIDNAPPED AND TAKEN CAPTIVE IN A DOOMSDAY BUNKER. This fic had me on the edge of my seat the whole way through, it is such an incredibly captivating read!

Fears and Assurances in Equal Measure by @thatdisasterauthor | M | 15k

It should've been a simple call. But when the "small fire in an apartment kitchen" turns into a collapse that traps Eddie as the fire continues to burn, Buck is forced to make an impossible choice to save the man he loves. The emotional and physical hurt/comfort in this is to die for <3

it hit me in the kitchen by @bugsongs | G | 13k

Eddie leaves for Texas, and everybody copes with food in one way or another. There’s so much good Eddie and Christopher communication in this fic, it really healed me. 

forever is the sweetest con by @becausebuckley | E | 37k

Buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. There’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. It’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right? MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE! EVERYONE LIKES THAT!

like a river runs by @nymika-arts | T | 56k

Buck and Maddie’s flight goes missing, and they are presumed dead. Five years later, their flight lands unscathed, but the world has moved on without them. This fic is so heartbreaking. I had my heart in my throat the whole time, but it is also so beautiful. 

a straight guy and an ally walk into a bar… by @songbvrd | M | 23k

After Buck gets dumped, he remembers he agreed to go to Abby's wedding with a date. Eddie steps up and pretends to be his boyfriend. All hell breaks loose.

Batting a Buck & Change by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 15k

Eddie and Chim embark on a “Dad’s night out” to watch baseball at a sports bar, and after a few too many, Eddie accidentally lets his feelings for Buck slip. EddieChim Bestism my beloved. Honestly, this fic is so much fun, and I am obsessed with all of it!

In a Moment of Clarity by @thekristen999 | T | 14k

As the jeep rounded a sharp bend, its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge. THE CRASH FIC! SO SO GOOD! Hurt Buck and Hurt Eddie, what more could you want? Delicious.

Exhibit B by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 10k

Seven years in the future, an adult Christopher has a chance to see his grandparents - and subsequently, his father - in a new light, on a family trip to El Paso. Oh, this fic is so good! A very much needed reflection on Eddie’s relationship with his parents, and done through Christopher’s eyes, this fic really hits you in the solar plexus in the best way possible. 

in pursuit of good health by @bisexualbellamyblake | M | 6.7k

I am a sucker for tactile idiots-to-lovers and so when I find a fic about Buck and Eddie ‘platonically kissing for the health benefits’ you best believe I devoured it!

down every road by @young-waverer | T | 4.5k

Buck realizes he needs to be with Eddie and Chris. Unfortunately for the miles on his truck, Eddie and Chris had the same idea. THIS is what happens when idiots in love who cannot commniucate try to surprise eachother but share the same braincell. 

seeing him in a new light by @tizniz | G | 1.2k

Eddie Diaz is all of us fawning over how Buck is Big and Large and BIG.

featherlight by @coldbam | G | 7k

Eddie takes up a new hobby while in Texas, identifying the birds that visit his new porch and realizes he’s in love with Buck from 800 miles away. AKA The Birding Fic and honestly I’m obsessed this is so beautiful. Also the artwork in this is STUNNING! So special shout out to @betanoiz for that. 

the bigger they are (the harder they fall) by @chronicowboy | T | 6k

This is how 8x18 should have gone. Buck and Eddie get trapped in the rubble together and finally confess a few things to eachother. 

[dreamauri]

Hi sweetheart, I saw you're taking requests, so I'm going to take advantage and make one. Sub Charles. We all saw how well he looks in his pilot suit and how tight it can get. Before the race, the reader kisses him and gets him really hot, then the reader sees the bulge in his suit and goes crazy. After the race, she helps him solve his big problem

♪ — 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗚𝗢 charles leclerc x girlfriend! reader ( suggestive ) fic summary , Before the race, it’s just a kiss — soft, simple, nothing more. But by the time the podium’s climbed and the door shuts behind him, you both know exactly how far that kiss was always meant to go (0.5K)

( main master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

The room is small, lit by the sunburnt glow leaking through tinted windows, and smells faintly of citrus and engine oil. You're sitting on the edge of his chair, your legs crossed, arms lazily draped over the sides, like you own the place. Like you own him.

And maybe, in this moment, you do.

Charles is pacing, half-zipping up his race suit, brows furrowed in a way you know means nervous but trying to look cool. You watch him with a smile that is all fire and mischief, propping your chin in your hand.

"You’re gonna kill it out there," you murmur.

He stops. Turns to you. Smiles—just a little, but it's real.

"Come here," he says, and his voice is already lower than it should be. Already cracking under the weight of you.

You rise, step over like it’s choreography, and press a soft kiss to his lips. Meant to be sweet. Barely a breath. Barely a spark.

But then—

You tilt your head.

He pulls you closer.

One second becomes two. Three. The air between you thins. Your hands move on instinct, one slipping into his hair, the other ghosting over the curve of his waist.

You both lean in, too far, too fast—and hips brush.

Click.

Something unspoken shifts. You feel it before you see it: the way his breath catches, the way his fingers twitch against your back. Then you see it—him—the proof of exactly what you've done to him, tight and obvious through the red fabric of his race suit.

“Oh,” you say, eyes gleaming. “Is that for me?”

Charles groans softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck like it’ll save him from you. It won’t.

“You’ve got a race in ten minutes, baby,” you whisper, teasing fingers tracing the edge of his waistband, your palm flattening—pressing—just enough against his bulge, almost palming him. “But you’re already so . . . tense.”

“Mon dieu,” he hisses, head tilting back. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe,” you smirk, lips brushing his jaw. “Maybe I just like the idea of you driving with this kind of… motivation.”

He kisses you again, harder this time, desperate and rushed and messy. His hands are in your hair, your shirt is wrinkled, and there’s heat in every kiss that promises more than either of you has time for.

Then, with visible pain and supreme restraint, he pulls away.

“I have to go,” he says, voice strained. “I can’t be late.”

You pout, letting your hand fall away—just before he completely unravels.

“Fine. Go finish third,” you tease. “And come back here hard again.”

"Why P3?"

He does finish third. Ferrari’s first podium this season. The whole paddock is buzzing. Charles is flushed with champagne and adrenaline when he finds you in his room again, changed into your oversized Ferrari tee, looking like a sin disguised as support.

He closes the door behind him and leans against it.

You’re already walking over.

“Still tense?” you ask, fingers dancing over his chest, tracing the zipper down ever so slightly.

He looks at you like a man undone. His eyes say please. His lips say nothing.

You grin.

“Don’t worry,” you purr, sinking slowly to your knees, your fingers brushing the inside of his thigh. “Let me help you celebrate properly.”

His breath stutters. His hands thread through your hair.

[gf2bellamy]

hi hi hi !!!

could i please request a spencer fic with uni/student reader where he comes home from a case and finds her sleeping on her books with her laptop open and just a chaotic environment and he gently tries her to sleep properly (and finds out she has not been taking care of herself the past few days) and she refuses cuz there's assignments to complete and exams to study for, and yk the vibes pls feel free to ignore this if you have written something similar or if you just dont want to <33 thankyouuu so muchh <3

assignments — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader studying too much , mention of a mean professor , spencer being concerned a/n: hi hi !! love this request ( bc i need this !! exams are actually killing me )

When Spencer stepped into the apartment, he was met not with the familiar sound of your voice calling his name, nor the warm embrace that usually followed — your arms wrapped tightly around him, your face buried in his neck as you whispered how much you'd missed him.

Instead, there was only silence.

It had been a week since he left for a case so this was highly unusual. 

As he shrugged off his jacket and toed off his shoes, his eyes were drawn to the light spilling from the kitchen. Quietly, socks muffling his steps against the creaky floorboards, he walked toward the light.

And there you were.

But not the way he expected.

You weren’t smiling, weren’t running into his arms. Instead, your head was resting on your open textbook, the screen of your laptop still glowing faintly beside you — the paused video of a lecture frozen mid-sentence. Pens were scattered on the floor, likely knocked loose when you'd slumped forward in exhaustion.

Spencer's chest tightened.

He stepped closer, his touch feather-light as he brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. You barely stirred.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft and warm against your skin.

“Hey,” he murmured, then kissed your temple again, lingering a moment longer this time.

You stirred just slightly, a soft sound escaping your lips as Spencer, still with his hand resting gently on the back of your head, closed your laptop. You shifted again, mumbling a small, sleepy, "Spence?"

"Yeah, it's me," he responded, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. You lifted your head slowly, blinking at him, clearly trying to shake off the sleepiness clouding your vision.

"Hi," he smiled at you, leaning down just enough to meet your eyes.

You rubbed at your eyes, still groggy. "Oh my god, Spence, hi. I missed you." Without thinking, your arms flew around his neck, pulling him into a tight, welcoming hug.

Spencer let out a soft, relieved breath, brushing his hands over your back as he held you, his gaze flicking over to your scattered books. His brow furrowed in concern, though his hands continued to soothe you. "I missed you too," he whispered, the crease on his forehead relaxing as you kissed his cheek.

"Why are you awake?" he asked softly as your arms slowly loosened around his neck, falling back into your lap with a heavy sigh. You yawned.

"Studying," you mumbled, your words more coherent now as you began to fully wake up, your mind catching up with reality.

"Studying?" Spencer raised an eyebrow. "It's 2:15 a.m.," he said, glancing at his watch.

You didn't reply, instead your hand instinctively reached for your laptop, the need to continue your work almost automatic.

"No," Spencer said gently but firmly as he stopped you from opening your laptop. 

You turned, a frown on your face. "Yes," you said slowly as you met his gaze, not quite ready to let go of your plans.

Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. "No," he repeated, a little more resolute this time, before grabbing your textbooks and carefully closing them. He sat down in the chair beside you, his gaze soft but persistent. "You need sleep, not more studying."

"Spencer, no, wait— I have so many exams and assignments." You pointed frantically at a blank sheet of paper. "I haven't even started on this one yet, and my professor is actually so mean when it comes to these things. I need to finish it."

Spencer watched you, his gaze gentle but filled with concern. His eyes drifted to the pile of cups in the sink, then to the outfit you were wearing.

"Did you leave the house today?" he asked slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheekbone in a soft motion.

You paused, trying to recall the last time you'd stepped outside, but the haze of exhaustion clouded your thoughts. "Uhm..." You trailed off, unsure.

Spencer didn’t push, but his voice dropped slightly, his tone more serious. "Did you leave the house this week?" His hand gently fell to the table, his fingers resting there as he watched you carefully, analyzing every small shift in your expression. The way you bit your lip, the way you avoided his gaze—it told him more than you realized.

He leaned in a little closer, a softness in his voice as he asked, "Did you at least do something besides studying?"

And by the way you bit your lip and avoided his eyes he already knew the answer. 

"Spencer, look at my schedule." You grabbed a paper from the desk, almost shoving it toward him in a desperate bid to prove your point.

Spencer barely glanced at it, a soft sigh escaping him. "Okay, come on," he said firmly, but gently, already knowing what he had to do.

You continued protesting, but it was half-hearted. Spencer didn’t let you linger in your resistance; with a gentle but insistent tug, he grabbed your hand and helped you to your feet.

Honestly, you were exhausted, and maybe that was why you didn’t pull away. Maybe it was because you knew, deep down, you needed a break. And despite your protests, despite the mounting pressure of everything that had been piling up, you allowed him to guide you to the bedroom, too tired to fight back anymore.

He lifted the sheets, and you let him pull you under them, a soft sound of comfort escaping your lips as the warmth enveloped you.

But the guilt didn't go away.

Spencer could feel it, too. He pulled you closer, guiding your head to rest against his chest as he kissed the top of your head—three times, each kiss a silent promise: I love you. His hands gently brushed over your back, soothing you,

“You need to take care of yourself,” Spencer started, his voice soft but firm. He poked you lightly in your ribs before you could protest, a playful gesture to stop you from arguing.

You smiled softly, despite yourself.

“Especially when I’m not here,” he added, his voice growing more serious. “I don’t like the idea of you sleeping over your books and just drinking coffee.” He paused, letting the words sink in.

You chuckled lightly, the tension in your shoulders easing a little. “Because that’s your thing?” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Spencer smiled too, but his expression softened, concern still lingering in his gaze. “Because that’s my thing exactly. And it’s not healthy. So you shouldn’t be doing it.” His hand slid into your hair, fingers gently brushing through the strands as he continued, his tone gentle and filled with sincerity. “You have to take breaks.”

He pressed another kiss to your head, his touch so tender it made your heart ache with how deeply he cared.

You bit your lip, knowing he was right. But the guilt was still there, pressing on you, weighing you down.

“And hey,” Spencer said, tapping your chin lightly to get your attention. You raised your head slowly, meeting his soft, hazel eyes, their warmth glowing in the dim light of the nightstand lamp.

“Tomorrow I’ll help you,” he promised. “We’ll study together. With breaks,” he added with a playful but stern look, as though he meant business. “And you’ll finish everything on time. I promise.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, sealing his words with it.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as you scooted closer, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Spencer held you close, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head.

Just when you thought he might be drifting off with you, his voice broke the quiet.

“You know,” he began, a familiar ramble already starting to take shape in his tone, “there’s actually a lot of research that supports the importance of regular breaks during study sessions.”

You smiled into his neck, already picturing his thoughtful expression. Here he goes.

“I mean, the human brain can only maintain true focus for around 25 to 45 minutes at a time before efficiency begins to drop. After that, you're not retaining much. It’s cognitive overload, really. And yet you—” he gave your side a playful squeeze, “—seem determined to break every rule neuroscience has ever suggested.”

You let out a sleepy giggle. There was a short pause. Then:

“And also, I think I need to have a word with that professor of yours.”

You blinked. “What?”

Spencer leaned back slightly, just enough to look at you with mock seriousness, his brows raising. “Because if he's assigning enough work that you forget to eat, sleep, or breathe, then I have concerns. Strong ones. Potentially formal ones.”

“Spencer…”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be difficult,” he continued, entirely too casually. “Just show up, badge in hand—‘Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI. I’d like to discuss your time management expectations and the psychological harm of unrealistic academic pressure.’”

You burst out laughing, burying your face back into his shoulder.

He grinned, proud of himself. “Maybe even cite a few case studies. Throw in some light statistics. Guilt them into revising the syllabus.”

You giggled again, finally relaxing fully into him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m persuasive,” he corrected, placing a final kiss to the top of your head. “And extremely concerned about your wellbeing.”

You smiled into his skin, feeling the weight of everything slowly dissolving in the warmth of his arms and his quiet ( and nerdy ) love.

“Spence?”

“Hmm?”

“I really missed you.”

He pulled you in tighter, his voice suddenly quieter. “I missed you, too.”

[prettydaisygirl]

If possible can we get a part two of the one bed trope with James?

Maybe a smug Sirius when he finds out his plan worked. Maybe even a month after the cabin.

I love your stories so much. You are so talented!!

AND "Hello my love! I am absolutely obsessed with the one bed trope James potter fic you just posted! It’s so lovely :) I was wondering if you’d be willing to do a part two, just the next day where they have a soft, fluffy morning- you know maybe them being a little awkward at first because they’re not sure what to do, but falling into this comfortable intimacy because of the forced proximity? No worries either way but I love your writing!!"

I got two requests for a part two of the one bed trope fic! I'm so glad to see so many of you enjoyed it, I was really proud of it after I struggled with it for a few days haha! I tried to blend these two requests together, and I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. I hope you all enjoy, thanks for requesting <3

(boy)friend!James Potter x fem!reader who get found out ✿ 1.3k words

cw: fem reader, reader and James don't want to admit that Sirius' plan worked, mentions of smut but nothing detailed, Sirius is so dramatic I love him

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

previous part

This morning was decidedly not going the way you had hoped it would.

It started out good. More than good, you would even say wonderful. You’d woken up with James’ head between your legs, which is quite possibly the best way you can imagine waking up in the morning. You’d cuddled for a while, showered together, and you relished in the feeling of being around your boyfriend. Truthfully, things were new. The two of you have only really been together a few weeks. 

But it doesn’t feel new. It feels like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, that were always meant to find one another. Sirius may have pushed you, but there’s a deep knowing in your gut that things would always have turned out this way. A million lifetimes, a million different paths, and you think that you and James Potter would find your way together. 

The morning after your first kiss with James, you’d woken up in his arms in the cabin. 

 Your eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of James Potter’s sleeping face. For a moment, you’re in utter disbelief until you remember the conversation, and the kiss, from the night before. You find your cheeks heating up, and you press yourself closer to him as your heart pounds. His arms wrap tighter around you, like even subconsciously he wants to be closer to you.

You place a gentle kiss on his chin, and he takes in a long breath before his own eyes open. He smiles at you softly, a hand raising to hold your cheek. There’s a moment where both of you just sit comfortably still, looking at each other in the early morning light. Then James lowers his mouth to yours and despite the morning breath it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

When James finally pulls away, you’re sufficiently dizzy and desperate beneath him. He smirks confidently and climbs off of you, holding out a hand for you to take. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, go on a little walk through the woods and enjoy the beauty of nature and solitude. He kisses you again, then, as you slow dance under the trees in the light of the midday sun, and you know you’ll always think of this moment when you hear birds singing.

“We can’t tell Sirius about this,” James whispers to you with a teasing smile on his face. You chuckle, pulling him just a bit closer as the two of you sway.

“No, we cannot.” You agree, your sweet laugh making James’ heart soar. 

The rest of the weekend is much the same. You have sex for the first time, with James whispering how beautiful you are and how much he adores you. You cuddle in front of the fireplace and James falls asleep with his head in your lap as you read him a book. It’s beautiful, everything you could have ever wanted. And you’re not going to tell Sirius.

And so far, neither you or James had managed to let it slip to Sirius, or anyone else, that your relationship had changed so significantly. You didn’t want to hear Sirius’ smug teasing, endure Remus’ knowing looks, or even Peter’s intrusive questions. The two of you just wanted to be you two just for a little bit longer. 

But, of course, secrets can only stay secret for so long. This morning is when things go wrong.

James washes your hair and then kisses you until the water goes cold. He wraps you in a towel, calls you his ‘angel’, and goes downstairs to make breakfast. 

You’ve just finished drying your hair with James’ towel, wearing one of his shirts and your panties, when you hear the front door open and close. You’re not immediately put off, thinking maybe James stepped outside for the paper or something. 

“Oi, Prongs! Why is there a pair of ladies shoes by your door?” Sirius. 

You freeze, looking down at your lack of clothing, the open bedroom door, the obvious evidence of your nights here scattered around James’ home. 

Sirius’ footsteps echo as he moves into the kitchen. You stand, taking the quietest steps you can possibly manage to lean against the bedroom door, listening. 

“Pads, mate, you have to text me when you want to come over. It’s not like we share a bedroom anymore, is it?” Your boyfriend’s voice gives you butterflies, but it only increases your anxiety, overwhelmed by the situation. You grasp the wood of the bedroom door tightly. 

It’s not really a big deal if Sirius finds out, you know eventually everyone will find out. But you weren’t expecting it. You wanted to tell everyone on your own terms. 

“Well, sorry, but I’m here now.” You hear something scrape across the floor, presumably Sirius sitting down at the dining room table. “There’s a pair of women’s shoes by the door, and you’re making pancakes. I’ve interrupted your morning after, haven’t I?” Sirius laughs boisterously and James seems to shush him. 

“Sirius, please-” If James says anything else, you don’t hear it. There’s only a moment of quiet before Sirius’ voice says the worst possible thing imaginable.

“Jamsie,” Sirius’ voice is high and sing-songy, and even though you can’t see him, you know there’s a bright grin on his face, “Is she who I think she is? Did my plan work?”

“So you admit it!” There’s another scraping sound, you guess James sits at the table by Sirius. You decide to move across the bedroom, losing out on some of the conversation while you put your jeans on. 

Fully clothed now, you tiptoe out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Sirius and James are sitting at the table, as you guessed. You and James meet eyes and he shrugs. Sirius sees this, whipping his head around so fast you think he might injure himself.

“Ah-ha! I knew it!” Sirius stands up, clearly proud of himself and his match-making skills, “You don’t have to thank me, just let me plan your wedding!”

“Sirius!” James’ eyes widen and he looks at you apologetically. But, strangely, you don’t feel upset. In fact, you find yourself starting to laugh, and Sirius does too. James looks between the two of you with a furrowed brow before even he can’t help but join in, chuckling and shaking his head. “You can’t just say that.”

“I can say whatever I want because I was right!” Sirius flips his hair over his shoulder dramatically. “I’m thinking ballroom wedding. Fancy for your parents, Jamsie, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” James shakes his head and you take a seat at the table with two of them. He moves closer, brushing a soothing hand over your knee to apologize for Sirius’ intrusion. 

“Really?” You chime in, surprising both of them, “I would imagine you’d want something extravagant, Jamie.” 

“I do! Well, I mean- If… If you want something extravagant, then I do too! I want to show you off…” Sirius watches the interaction with a smirk, obviously taking notes to tease the both of you later. 

You roll your eyes and smile, lightly shoving at James with your hand, though it doesn’t even move him an inch. “We’ve been together for three weeks, James. I don’t know what kind of wedding I want.” 

“Well, you must have some idea-” James’ voice is cut off by the scrape of the chair again, Sirius standing up and putting his hands on his hips. He does a little bow and you roll your eyes again.

“Well, now I have put the idea into your heads. Ponder it,” He smiles giddily, grabs his bag, and begins making his way back to the front door. “I can’t wait to tell Remus about this. He’ll be glad his allergic reaction wasn’t for nothing!”

“Sirius!”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[kikidoul]

☆ ͡ COLD HANDS, COLDER HEART ︶︶ (TEASER)

"Marrying you was never part of my plan—and watching you play hero in an operating room doesn't change a thing."

"You don't have to love me, Sunghoon. But don't stand there and and look at me like I'm beneath you."

synopsis. . .ᐟ Being known as South Korea's talented and skillful neurosurgeon has it's own perks. At the same time, it also has downsides—one of it being forced into an arranged marriage with an infamous and successful CEO: Park Sunghoon. He disliked the idea of being married to someone who loves playing the role of an hero. You disliked the idea of being married to someone who wears an expensive suit, does nothing in his office and laid back. This isn't a happy-go-lucky marriage. No, this is a marriage filled with pride, resentment, cold and harsh words. Can the two of you ever find happiness in this harsh, unfair world you're thrown into?

content . .ᐟ arranged mariage au, CEO! 박성훈, neurosurgeon! fem! reader, heavy angst, hurt with comfort, gender sterotypes, unstable relationship, emotionally constipated sunghoon, arugments, slowburn, fluff if you squint, light smut, plot-focused, happy ending.

word count . .ᐟ tba (estimated to be 20k, i hope)

from hye . .ᐟ this idea struck me like lightning the moment belift dropped the concept pictures. i'm a sucker for arranged marriage and with this pic, you can't blame me for writing one for CEO! Sunghoon. would like to point out that this will have more plot than porn, since i like writing plot, so yeah. comment on this post or send an ask if you wish to be tagged for this fic!

“Look at her, she doesn’t look like she belongs here.” 

“You’re right. I bet she didn’t showered before coming over. I can smell the stench of blood on her. Ugh, let’s get out of here before I puke.” 

Laughter rippled across the dinner table, polished silverware clinking against fine china. You merely sat in silence, the bitter taste of your untouched wine lingering. Across from you, Sunghoon didn’t even glance your way. Not a word. Not a defense. Just silence—the kind that spoke volumes. After all, you were already used to this. Used to your so-called husband not saying anything to defend you. You told yourself to not take their words to heart but as this goes on, you were getting tired. 

Tired of being the laughingstock of the family. Tired of people gossiping and whispering, hands shielding their mouths—not wanting to let you know what they’re talking about. You were foolish back then, thinking your husband would step in to say something, anything but when it was clear he was disinterested in whatever’s happening around him, you gave up. There’s no point in trying to chase after someone who’s insistent on following his morals. 

~ 

“I’ve told you before, didn’t I? You’re only wasting your time and life away, trying to play the hero. Look at you, you’re a fucking mess.” 

Smack! 

A series of gasps echoed amongst the observation room. You lowered your left hand, ignoring the stinging pain as you glared at Sunghoon through your teary, puffy eyes. Your husband, on the other hand, dazedly raised his hand, fingers grazing against his now red, sore cheek. You were fully aware of how you’re causing a scene but you didn’t care. At this point, you were mentally and physically exhausted. His harsh, cold and thoughtless words were merely the final straw for you to snap. 

“I fucking hate you, Park Sunghoon. In our married life, you’ve never shown any support. All you did was to judge me, constantly belittling me, looking at me like I’m below you. I’m your wife, for God’s sake! Would it kill you to treat me as an equal!?”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, something akin to regret flickered across his usual stoic face. “(Name)—” 

You smacked his outstretched hand away, backing away from him. “Forget it. I’m getting a divorce. I can’t do this anymore.” 

~ 

“Dr. (Name)! Your husband—he—he got hit by a car and—” 

Your world turned upside down when you ran out of your office, not listening to the rest of the sentence, only to pause when you see Sunghoon being wheeled to an emergency room—a room where he needs to be operated on now, before it’s too late. You quickly changed to your scrub attire, washing your hands and you could see how you were visibly trembling. You knew you weren’t in the right mind to perform a surgery—a high-risk surgery, to be exact. But you couldn’t back down, not when it’s your husband laying on the operating table. 

“Come on, please please please, don’t die on me,” you muttered. 

I need you here. I need you in my life because as much as I hate you, a small part of me still loves you, even if you don’t feel the same way. 

taglist: @graceyein, @st4rg1rlies, @byshens, @hoonstqr, @tfwbluu, @coconutx-o, @doririsstuff, @niki788, @skzenhalove, @onlyticket-home, @emisluvr, @amortenha, @icywifey02

[skyguytoast]

ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER

CHAPTER TWO

SYNOPSIS: Anakin wakes to more than just the morning light: he must now face the weight of last night with you and the quiet turmoil stirring in his heart. WARNING: none, just fluffy  WORDS: 3.5K A/N: Hello my dears, I can't even thank you enough for all the love this fic has received. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it, so it was a pleasant surprise. I don't know if you'll like the second chapter as much, but now I'm full of ideas, I thought of five chapters more or less. Feel free to comment what you think, suggestions and criticisms are also welcome, good reading ;) dividers by @/enchanthings

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬  𝐈𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐞  𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞  𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞?

The sun crept over the Naboo horizon, golden light spilling across the field in slow, deliberate waves. It touched Anakin’s face first — a gentle warmth that coaxed his lashes into a twitch, his brow furrowing as he stirred. A tickling sensation brushed the bridge of his nose, soft as a whisper. He mumbled incoherently and turned his face away.

But then it came again, a teasing flutter, and this time, a laugh followed. His eyes blinked open, still hazy from sleep, only to find you kneeling beside him, holding a delicate flower to his cheek with an expression far too innocent to be trusted.

You grinned when you met his gaze. "Good morning," you murmured sweetly, the flower dancing between your fingers. The chaos in your curls and the faint imprint of sleep still on your features made you look all the more ethereal.

Anakin smiled back, drowsy and charmed. “Good morning,” he replied, voice rough with sleep. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the dull ache from a night spent lying on uneven ground. It wasn’t exactly the best sleep of his life—but stars, it was worth it. Having you curled against him, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep on his chest, made everything else feel like it didn’t matter.

Until it did. His eyes widened as the realization returned like a jolt to his spine.

“Force, we need to get back,” he muttered, suddenly rushing to his feet. “Padmé. I’m supposed to be guarding her. I’m supposed to be protecting her, not” He stopped himself, guilt threading into his voice, heat rising in his cheeks. He had let his feelings cloud his judgment, again.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “I know a shortcut.”

You took the hand he offered, your smaller fingers enveloped easily in his. His thumb instinctively traced along your knuckles, a quiet gesture of affection that lingered even as you both dashed toward the speeder.

Anakin had barely settled onto the seat when your foot hit the accelerator, the vehicle surging forward with a suddenness that made his heart stutter. You weaved through the trees with an ease that was as daring as it was reckless. He couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or terrified.

He leaned closer than necessary, under the guise of balancing, but in reality, it was just to feel the way your shoulder pressed into his chest with each sharp turn. The adrenaline sang through him, but it was nothing compared to the way your presence tugged at something buried deep inside.

By the time you skidded to a stop outside the lake house, both of you were breathless, trying to straighten your clothes, picking flowers and grass from your hair. It was a lost cause, you still looked like you’d rolled through a meadow together. Which… wasn’t far from the truth.

Padmé was already waiting, her expression unreadable, though Captain Typho’s disapproval was written clearly across his face as he stood beside her, arms crossed, jaw set tight. Anakin’s stomach dropped. He knew that look. The captain didn’t take lightly to negligence, especially when it came to the safety of the senator. And he was right to be upset. Anakin had let his heart lead him astray.

He stood taller, swallowing hard. The shame hit fast, not because of what happened, but because of how easy it had been to forget everything else when he was with you. Jedi discipline felt like an old, distant promise compared to how he felt in your orbit.

“What was your mission, Skywalker?” Captain Typho’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade, his arms crossed and jaw locked tight. His tone left no room for misunderstanding.

Anakin’s shoulders slumped, the heat of embarrassment prickling up the back of his neck. “To guard Senator Amidala’s room,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“And why weren’t you doing that?” Typho snapped, voice rising. “What could possibly be more important than the duties assigned to you? Do you think you’re above the mission? Should I call the Jedi Council and ask for someone more committed?”

Anakin opened his mouth, shame and panic warring in his chest but before he could speak, you stepped in. You moved to stand in front of him, your body slipping between the captain’s sharp words and the padawan’s stiff frame.

“It was my fault,” you said, raising your chin despite the quiver in your voice. “I, I snuck out last night. I just needed to get away for a while and ended up in more trouble than I meant to. Anakin wasn’t shirking his duty. He was helping me.”

You turned toward Padmé, eyes pleading. “I lost control of the speeder bike. I could’ve crashed, if he hadn’t been there…” you trailed off, breath catching. “If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I’d have made it back. Please don’t blame him, he only did what anyone else would’ve done. I’ll take all the blame.”

Padmé’s gaze flickered between the two of you, and there was a long, unreadable pause. Her eyes softened, just slightly, before she turned toward Typho.

“That’s enough, Captain. There’s no need to involve the Jedi,” she said calmly. “I think we’ve all learned something valuable today.”

Typho didn’t look convinced, but he bowed his head and stepped back. Padmé waited until he’d walked away before turning to you with a tired sigh.

“Why am I not surprised that you were involved in the trouble?” she muttered, though her tone lacked real bite. She took your arm and gently guided you inside.

Once in her room, she sat you down at the vanity without another word. You stayed quiet, watching your sister through the mirror as she began carefully removing the crushed flowers and leaves tangled in your hair.

“Why?” she finally asked, fingers working gently through a knot. “Why do you keep doing this. taking risks, putting yourself in danger?”

You blinked, confused. “I don’t understand…”

Padmé met your eyes in the mirror. “You have the luxury of choice. Of freedom. You don’t have to bear the weight of the Senate or the Republic. You get to choose your path. So why are you always looking for ways to make it harder on yourself?”

The words stung. A tightness formed in your throat as your chest began to ache. You looked down, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

How could you possibly explain to her, the poised, unshakable senator who bore the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, what it felt like to live in her shadow? To want to matter in a world where she already filled every room with grace and purpose?

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I was reckless and irresponsible.  I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Padmé paused her hands and stepped around to face you.

Your voice cracked, and the tears spilled anyway. “I just... I just—” You didn’t say it aloud, but it was there, in the air between you. The feeling of being invisible in her shadow. Of never being the one anyone looked to, listened to, or needed.

But before you could finish, Padmé wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her embrace. The warmth of her hug unraveled the guilt in your chest. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to. She just held you, the way only an older sister could.

You stayed like that for a while, just the two of you, breathing in time.

Eventually, your voice broke the silence, needing to improve that strange atmosphere, needing to fix the situation that you yourself created. “Why don’t we spend the day in the garden? Near the lake.” you murmured against her shoulder. It’s beautiful out today. “You could use a break and I want to spend time with my sister.”

Padmé hesitated for a second, then smiled faintly, brushing your hair once more before rising. “Alright. I’ll ask the staff to prepare everything.”

Padmé went to inform the staff to prepare everything, and you took a deep breath, standing to head to your room and change. The tears were still there, but your heart felt just a little lighter.

Outside, you knew Anakin was probably still standing where you’d left him. And despite everything… a part of you hoped he’d still be looking for you when you came back.

When Padmé returned to the garden, her gaze immediately found you standing beside Anakin, two towels in your arms, animatedly saying something that she couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made Anakin laugh, a real, unguarded laugh. His blue eyes sparkled with that boyish glint, and he shook his head as if you’d just said something outrageous.

“Senator Amidala,” Anakin said, attempting to compose himself the moment he noticed her. “I want to apologize for my”

Padmé raised a hand, gently cutting him off. “Water under the bridge, Ani,” she said with a small smile. “Why don’t you help carry the picnic basket?”

She slipped her arm through yours, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “My sister suggested we go swimming. I hope you brought wetsuits.” Anakin’s ears turned red, and he quickly averted his gaze, falling in step behind the two of you.

Out in the garden, the afternoon sun cast warm glows over the lake’s edge. You and Padmé started a game of “don’t let the ball hit the ground,” laughing as the breeze threatened to steal the ball mid-air. Soon, you dragged Anakin and one of the palace guards into the chaos, splitting into teams. You threw down the towels to mark the makeshift line in the grass—Padmé and Anakin on one side, you and the guard on the other.

It didn't take long for the friendly game to turn into a whirlwind of competitiveness. You and Anakin became the fiercest pair, diving, spinning, and tumbling dramatically just to keep the ball from falling. His focus blurred—not because of the match, but because of your laughter, your joy, the way the sunlight caught your smile like a secret meant only for him. You teased him ruthlessly, lobbing tricky throws that forced him to dive with Jedi precision.

Not to be outdone, Anakin narrowed his eyes and sent the ball arcing high above your head. He grinned, thinking he’d finally won the round, but he underestimated you. You bolted backward, determined to catch it, but your foot slid over the damp edge of the grass, and with a splash, you disappeared into the lake.

“Y/N!” Anakin shouted, his heart stopping.

Without a second thought, he sprinted into the water, plunging into the depths to find you. Panic choked his thoughts as he swam, his heart hammering wildly. He cursed himself for being careless, for not watching you more closely, for letting things go too far.

Then, through the water’s shimmer, he saw you.

He scooped you into his arms, surfacing with a gasp and rushing back to the shore, both of you soaked and breathless. He laid you gently on the shore, dripping and panicked, placing his ear to your chest, just in time for you to sputter, cough, and burst into laughter. “You little” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face in relief. “You were pretending?!”

You grinned guiltily. “It was supposed to be funny.”

“You scared me out of my mind,” he muttered, heart still racing. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes sincere. “I didn’t mean to”

But Anakin didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up without a word and ran right back into the lake. You shrieked as he jumped in with you, both of you plunging under the surface.

Padmé, from a distance, looked up from her holobook and shook her head with a fond smile. Watching her sister and Anakin splash around like unruly teenagers, a strange tightness crept into her chest. You two were a good match, she thought, but the realization sat oddly in her stomach, a feeling she chose not to examine.

Back in the water, Anakin hoisted you onto his shoulders, your hands instinctively clutching at his hair. “No, Anakin, put me down!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked.

“What? You giving up already?” he teased. “I thought you were the fun one!”

With a wicked grin, he flipped you off his shoulders, sending a wave of water crashing around you. You surfaced, gasping and laughing.

“You’ll be back,” you warned, narrowing your eyes in mock vengeance.

Anakin only smirked wider, until something grabbed his ankle under the surface. He yelped as he lost balance and toppled into the shallows. He resurfaced with a laugh, coughing and splashing wildly. The lake echoed with your laughter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anakin Skywalker felt light.

Not like a Jedi. Not like a soldier.

Just like a boy, falling fast for a girl who made him forget all the rules.

You spent long, sun-drenched moments with Anakin in the lake—swimming, splashing, laughing until your cheeks hurt. It was pure, unfiltered joy, a kind of freedom neither of you was used to. When the water finally started to cool and the scent of food wafted from the garden, you both made your way back to the grass, clothes dripping and clinging to your bodies, leaving wet footprints and little puddles in your wake.

As you approached the picnic setup where Padmé sat, surrounded by an inviting spread of fruit, bread, and fresh Naboo delicacies, you reached for the zipper of your blue frilly dress. With a soft tug, you peeled it away, revealing the white silk slip beneath—lightweight and now partially translucent from the water, it clung delicately to your form.

Anakin swallowed hard. His eyes darted to your exposed shoulders, the elegant curve of your neck, the delicate dip of your collarbone. Droplets of water trailed over your skin, sliding down your chest and disappearing into the folds of fabric he could not see past—but his imagination filled in the rest with a speed and clarity that made his cheeks burn.

He gave his head a sharp shake, sending water flying from his hair, and forced his gaze away, cursing himself for losing control.

You elbowed him playfully, catching his flushed expression. “Don’t do that,” you said, pouting a little as you pulled a stool over and plopped down across from Padmé. You reached for the breadbasket, slicing a piece and handing it wordlessly to Anakin. He blinked, a little caught off guard by the gesture, but took it with a sheepish smile before sitting beside you.

Padmé, watching the quiet exchange, shook her head with a breathy laugh. “Children,” she teased, half to herself.

“I’m eighteen,” you and Anakin answered in unison, then turned to look at each other and grinned.

After lunch, Padmé left, and Anakin followed like a shadow, resuming his Jedi duties. Yet no matter how many diplomatic briefings or serene walks through royal gardens he endured, his mind stayed tangled in you. Even when Padmé stumbled and fell laughing into a bed of wildflowers, just like the vision he’d dreamed of for years, he couldn’t stop the image of how those blooms would’ve looked tangled in your curls instead.

When he finally escorted Padmé back to her room, standing dutifully outside, she turned to him with a knowing look. “Go,” she said, gentle but firm. “Just promise me you’ll be back before dawn.”

He hesitated, offering a weak protest about Jedi responsibilities, but Padmé only raised a brow. It was enough. He understood her permission was given and her understanding went deeper than words.

This time, Anakin was the one waiting at the window.

His breath caught the moment he saw you step into the moonlight. You were wearing a blue floral dress that clung to your frame in all the right ways, the fabric catching the silver glow of the night and casting soft highlights along your skin. The delicate tone of the dress deepened the warmth of your complexion, every detail from the curve of your shoulder to the line of your waist etched into his memory in a single, reverent glance.

Your hair was down tonight, the breeze gently lifting the loose strands while a braid ran like a crown across the top of your head, tiny white flowers woven between the curls like stars caught in the galaxy of you. To Anakin, you didn’t look real. You looked like something dreamt up in one of the few peaceful corners of his restless mind.

"Waiting for me, Skywalker?" you teased, your voice warm, your smile tugging mischievously at your lips.

Anakin stood there, speechless, his lips parted as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t remember how to speak. You were breathtaking. And in that moment, nothing in his vocabulary, not even the hundreds of words he'd once used to describe a planet or a battlefield, felt worthy enough to describe you.

"You look... pretty today," he said finally, then stumbled over himself, his hand flying to scratch the back of his neck. "Not that you’re not pretty on other days, I mean, you’re beautiful. Always.”

You smiled gently, charmed by his awkward honesty. “You’re a cutie too,” you said with a wink, stepping closer. “Now how about we go for a walk?”

And just like that, the night unfolded before you.

Together, you explored the quiet edges of the city, letting the silence between you settle not with awkwardness but with ease. With every step, the weight of your lives , his Jedi code, your family name, fell away, leaving behind two people who just wanted to feel free for a little while. No rules. No expectations. Just heartbeats and curiosity and the pull of something new.

When you arrived at your destination, Anakin helped you off the speeder bike, his hand warm and sure as he guided you to the ground. Music drifted on the air, soft, rhythmic, unfamiliar. A bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing ahead, casting golden shadows over the gathering of people. Gungans played instruments crafted from wood and string, filling the night with a melody that felt both ancient and celebratory. Flowers of every color hung in garlands, draped from trees and woven into the crowd’s hair and clothes.

It felt like a hidden sanctuary. A little piece of joy carved out of the galaxy’s chaos.

“Dance with me?” you asked, reaching out your hand.

Anakin hesitated. “I don’t know how.”

“Then let’s learn together,” you whispered, pulling him into the crowd.

As a Jedi, Anakin was never taught how to dance. There were no lessons in joy, no teachings in how to laugh without purpose, or to move simply for the pleasure of movement. Leisure had never been encouraged in the Temple, only discipline, control, and obedience. Hobbies were considered distractions. Joy was something to be observed, not indulged in. So now, with your hands in his and music swirling around him like stardust, he was utterly, beautifully lost.

You led the dance with a freedom he didn’t know how to replicate. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, feet moving easily over the soft ground, a radiant smile tugging at your lips. When you tried to spin under his arm, Anakin misunderstood the cue and spun with you, causing you both to lose balance, stumbling into each other in a tangled mess of laughter. You caught yourselves, barely, and the sound of your giggle lit something in his chest that felt far too close to longing.

Still, you kept dancing, your movements light and confident, guiding him with every step. And somehow, through the chaos and the clumsy rhythm, it became less about getting it right and more about how it felt. How it felt to be alive, to be seen, to be here.

Then your eyes met. Blue locked onto yours, and for a breathless second, the world faded into nothing but the shared pulse of your hearts. There was a spark, no, more than a spark. It was a quiet explosion of recognition, of something deep and stirring that neither of you had asked for, but now couldn’t deny.

Anakin had only known you for two days, and yet, it didn’t feel new. It felt ancient, like something buried in his bones was waking up. As your foreheads gently touched, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to let himself pretend.

He imagined a galaxy where he wasn’t a Jedi. Where there were no missions or codes or rules to obey. Where there was only this: you, and the night air, and the music. Where his arms could be your home and not a transgression.

He didn’t know what to call what he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel it at all. For years, his heart had belonged to Padmé or so he thought. But every glance, every smile, every heartbeat spent near you was unraveling that certainty. You weren’t replacing what he had felt. You were redefining it.

And that terrified him.

Because what if this wasn’t fleeting? What if you were becoming the gravity that held his entire world together? And what if, in choosing you… he was choosing himself?

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper @seventeen-x @user-3113s-blog @glitterfittans

[axetivev]

— Summary: Aventurine's birthday is getting close! You, his boyfriend. Was struggling on what you should give him, since you can't really afford something expensive. Until you saw a red ribbon lying around the living room, a lightbulb flicked on top of your head.

— Warnings/Tags: Blindfold, BDSM [Shibari], Nipple play, Ridding. (there's nothing much help)

— Words: 1k

— A/N: first request in May ! i'm pretty much still busy... and had some writerblock along the way. but hey, requesting is still open ! thank you to the anon who requested this. forgive me if it's too short ! i hope everyone enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Aventurine x Male!Reader

Aventurine’s birthday was just right around the corner. You found yourself in the kitchen, thinking of what you should get to him.

Should I get him a new coat? You mentality asked yourself, but then shook your head thinking about how you can’t really afford it with your own money. Well, you wanted it to be special. Why should you use Aventurine’s money? It doesn’t feel special that way. You just mindlessly stare at the kitchen counter.

You sighed, nearly defeated as you walked to the couch. You face pressed to the soft material, groaning. You slowly looked up, your eyes slowly met with a red line—a ribbon from a box of chocolate Aventurine always gave you before he get back to work. Your eyes lit up.

Got it!!

When Aventurine’s birthday came, you told him, that he’d had something special. Your eyes landed at both on your phone and the time. Watching a tutorial of how to do shibari. You stare at the screen as the women, muted as she showed the step.

…Too fast. Why didn’t you practice when you had time a few days before his birthday? You kept repeated the video over and over again, you nearly forgot how many times you messed your rope. You flick your tongue, trying to bond your naked body to the red ribbon. Eventually, lost track of time. You sighed at your failed attempts.

“How cute, still struggling?”

“Yeah, the video is too fast,” you answered defeated. For a moment, the silence stretch, your eyes widened as you realized that voice. “A–Aven!?”

Aventurine smirked as he kneel down behind you, his expensive clothing pressed against your bare back as he rested his head over your shoulder. “You’re pretty when you struggle…”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, thanks for ruining the surprise, Aven.”

Aventurine pouts, playfully nibbled your neck. “Can I help? Pretty please…”

“Aventurine—” Your sentence was cut by a gasp, Aventurine’s hand reached your dick as he slowly moved his hand, his gloved thumb slowly played with the slit. Your eyes widened. You slowly turned your head to find Aventurine nothing but smug. “F–fine… you can…”

Well, you’ve failed to surprised him. If only you didn’t procrastinate a few days prior, you’d give him a surprise Aventurine would never forget. You just sat on Aventurine’s bed as the blond tied your body with that red ribbon. You actually felt embarrassed by this, who wouldn’t?

Your hands were bound to your back, tied tight but not tight enough to make you feel uncomfortable. You body too was wrapped by the red ribbon, bounding your body as one. Aventurine took a moment to exam his masterpiece, a smirk played on his lips as he slit a hand over the ribbon. “Comfy?”

You were too embarrassed to say something, your eyes just followed Aventurine’s hand, his right hand moved over the areola. You whimpered the moment he brushed over your bud—Aventurine noticed your expression. He then shamelessly pinched your right nipple, you gasped, your nipple immediately hardened. Aventurine hummed, “I’m taking that as a yes.”

Aventurine then moved you over body, placing you on his lap, he made himself comfortable by resting to the headrest. His purple-blue eyes bore into you, he turned his head to the nightstand next to his bed, pulling a red silk from the drawer. You raised and eyebrow. “What’s that for—”

“I’m the birthday boy… can’t I do something that I want?” Aventurine whined, resting his head over your bounded chest. Your face reddened, he just smirked as he covered your eyes with the silk.

It felt soft, like a typical silk. Your vision was dark red. You couldn’t see anything. Literally. The only thing you could do now was only feel, you slowly squirm by the feeling. No one was watching. Simply Aventurine saw you in your most vulnerable state. But you still felt embarrassed about it, Aventurine’s the birthday boy. You also planned this anyway.

Your mind kept tracing, embarrassment slowly overfilled you, you didn’t even realize Aventurine’s fingers went to your hole. You heard a sigh coming from his lips, though you can’t see anything, you knew he shook his head with something, perhaps. Amusement.

“You already prepared yourself…” Aventurine muttered, he smiled as he bring his hand over his pants, slowly pulling his pants along with his boxer. “That’s nice, but how did you do it?”

He didn’t give you time to answer, with speed, he lifted you up and slammed you over his cock, a moan—loud and clear escaped from your lips. Your toes curled, Aventurine’s tip was kissing over your prostate. Yes—you’ve prepared yourself before this but you didn’t calculate this.

Aventurine’s hands nicely placed over your waist. He immediately plunged his cock over your hole, fucking it so much without sense of mercy. Hitting your prostate repeatedly.

Tears slowly stained the blindfold. Your cock twitched by each thrust, your hole was already feeling sore and this is just the first round. It didn’t take long for your dick slowly give in and

“Cumming already?” Aventurine let out a cruel laugh as he delivers a smack over your buttcheek, leaving a sting. That only made your dick erect. He continues his unforgiving pace, you whimpered.

You gasped the moment you felt warm liquid filled your hole, the blindfold was wet with your tears, you pant—gasping for air. You expect Aventurine you pulled out, instead, his cock was still deep inside of you, tip rubbing your prostate. Aventurine grabbed the ribbon that still bound strong over your body—pulling you up close while his ofree hand played with your nipple.

“We aren’t done yet, pretty.” He whispered to your ear, making you jolted when you felt Aventurine’s cock twitched.

“The birthday boy isn’t satisfied yet.”

After two hours. Your body was sore… like really. You felt you can’t move a muscle. Your body was stained by cum. But Aventurine was kind enough to carry you to the bathroom.

The ribbons and billfold was already gone, your eyes felt like burning after those two hours. Tired as fuck. You felt you were seated over the slippers bathtub, your body was surrounded by warm water. You slowly rubbed your eyes when Aventurine sat behind you. His hand slowly massaging your shoulder.

“The birthday boy is now satisfied.” Aventurine grin, placing his head over your shoulder. Even though you’re tired, you still had the energy to rolled your eyes.

“[Name]… baby? Handsome? Hot stuff~?” He pouted his lips, sure. He made you exhausted, he placed his hand over your chin—guiding you over his lips as he pressed your lips against his. Almost hesitant. Usually, that’s how he apologize.

Honestly, you want to scold him. But the fact he actually prepared this for you—the warm bath and it had your favorite scent… you leaned against his kiss.

“You won this time gambler…” You muttered between the kiss. Aventurine just deeps the kiss. He slowly pulled away as he pinned you against the bathtub. “AVENTURINE, WE AREN’T GOING TO HAVE SEX IN THIS BATHTUB—!!”

[lyssakinzzz]

Hey, can I request a fic where the reader is Remmick's soulmate, but she's really leary of him cause why is this white man at her door in the middle of the night? Remmick's been watching the reader for months finding out the things she likes, her hobbies, etc. He leaves her gifts and trinkets and tries to court her properly, but it's Remmick, so he still comes off weird. Eventually reader lets him in and he gets to properly explain. Reader knows she has a soulmate, but she didn't expect them to be an Irish vampire, but Remmick grows on her.

THAT'S SO CUTEEE. Anyways you were first so you get first write!

You felt his presence outside, he was watching you again, he always gave you dreams, sometimes wet, sometimes it would be wholesome and sweet. You tried everything to severe your connection with him, spiritual baths, rituals, getting one of his gifts and getting rid of them.

They connection would only grow and grow. It was insanity. You had enough of it, you grabbed the gun your brothers gave you when you moved in, and stalked outside.

"Hello?" You called out, and you turned around to face him. He had a bright grin on his face.

"Oh the nightgown I got you makes you look at pretty as a picture, doll!" He grinned stepping closer towards you.

You point your gun at him and he chuckled.

"Now, I don't want any trouble i just wanted to check on my dove..." He stroked the side of your face.

"Oh you're just cuter, when I can actually see you, angel." He smiled, his eyes raking over your figure.

"Oo...let me why don't we chat for a while, hm?" You could feel something change in him, he got more persuasive, something in his eyes just switched.

"You obviously look big enough to walk your big ass up in here, right?"

You questioned, your eyes raking over him.

"But where's the manners in that?..." He smiled as you slowly crept inside.

"You think I'm just gonna let a white man into my house?" You questioned, as you put your gun away and locked the door.

Now, what was he doing wrong! Remmick thought as he sighed and crept off, he was quite hungry and he could tackle this tommorow.

-------

The next night he came bearing gifts and peered into your window. He smiled as he held up the Basket. You groaned and went to the door and opened it.

You took the basket and examined it, it had all the things you've been praying for in there, all the stuff of your dreams.

"How did you know what to get me?" You peer in the basket.

"I know everything about you, my love!" He smiled. He seemed to have had a good heart.

"Invite me in?" He suggested, but it was more a kind demand.

"You must think I'm stupid to let a vampire in." You shot back, he looked surprised.

"I love me a smart woman!" He exclaimed as he inched closer to his own set barrier. "Seriously, let me in...I'll show you a good time." He smirked as he begged just a bit. You cock your brow and give him a look. He gave you soft eyes,which he seemed to have mastered.

"Come in." You finally say as you watched him waltz in, you never turned your back to him. He sat down and patted the spot next to him.

"C'mere." He smiled as he pulled you close and sat you down.

"Why're you here? Wanna play with your food or..."

"We're soulmates, dove." He answers. You laughed loudly.

"I'm soulmates with an werido vampire! Cmon I'm not even that stupid!" You chuckled but he seemed serious.

Oh?

Oh.

"Thats insanity!" You smiled. "I'll prove it to you..." He smiled as he stroked your hand, you flinched at the coldness.

He ran his fingers up your thighs, and slowly got on his knees and tried to lift your nightgown.

You give him a stare and he just stands back up.

"Well then, I'm hungry...best be on my way." He grunted as he walked out the door.

How the hell did you manage to attract a vampire?

-------------

You heard the familiar knock and ran to the door. Why the hell did you run to the door. You thought as you opened it to see a familiar grinning face.

"Hey, lass" he smiled as he kissed you, you can taste the familiar coppery taste on his breath, with some kind of cigarette. You kissed him back.

"You gon let me in or let me stay out here in this heat" he cocked his head as you let him in.

"Go on and get clean!" You yelled as you went to your bedroom and laid down. You bamboozled yourself. How did this werido, dorky Irish vampire grow on you. He kissed you with blood on him and you didn't give a fuck, you thought as you sat up and cleaned your mouth. You heard the shower run as he cleansed his body of its impurities, you fix yourself up a bit in your hand held mirror and laid down.

You heard the water stop, and watched him come out with a towel around his waist. You shot up and patted the spot next to you, he laid down his weight shifting the bed a bit as he cuddled into you and kissed your forehead.

He brought you warmth even though he had none in his body, he gave you love despite not having a heart, and he gave you sympathy without having a soul to understand.

[deansbeer]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

♡ ⋮ my content is not suitable for minors.

꒰ paired duo ꒱ demon!dean x female!reader.

꒰ synopsis ꒱ you moved on after dean died by the hands of metatron — until he shows up at your front doorstep again, ruins you, and reminds you exactly who you belong to.

꒰ content warnings ꒱ smut | angst | rough sex | backshots | demon!dean is aggressive | dom!demon!dean | hair pulling | head pinning | manhandling | size kink | dirty talk | light degrading | possessiveness | implied past relationship | creampie | overstimulation.

꒰ sticky notes ꒱ he's been consuming my mind all of last week and i needed to let it out somehow. so i opened google docs @ 3am crack hours ….. (i’m convinced a horny demon possessed me) & birthed this to life :) not to mention !!! the awful stomach cramps i was having (hunched over while holding back tears from the pain).

divider creds, @haecunt !

i’ve made my taglist private because i’m no longer using it. i had a hard time keeping track of it and would forget usernames. i am also too lazy to go back, save them to my notes, and copy paste under my fics.

you didn’t even hear the front door open.

no knock. no warning. just the sudden shift in the air — a weight that wasn’t there before. and before you can even turn around, he’s already there, behind you, voice low and rough and wrong in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“miss me, sweetheart?”

you freeze.

you haven’t seen him since he died. since the bunker. since the mark of cain took over him. you left, packed your shit and disappeared into this town like a ghost yourself, hoping the grief would settle into something manageable. you got a job. a decent little place for yourself. a dark oakwood dining table you bought secondhand and never used.

and now he’s here. dean.

not your dean. not the man who held you like you were something sacred. no. this one’s wearing his face, but his eyes are black and shining, his grin sharper, meaner. hungrier.

you barely get a breath in before he’s got you bent over the table, spine arched, hands flat on the worn wood. your pajama shorts are on the floor before you even register his touch, panties yanked down with a rough tug. he spits on his fingers, spreads you open like he’s done it a thousand times. like he remembers every inch of you.

“knew you’d run,” he mutters against your ear, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance. “but damn, baby… you really thought i wouldn’t find you?”

you gasp when he pushes in, slow at first, but deep. it has your legs trembling and your nails scraping the wood. he’s bigger somehow. heavier. and when he bottoms out, he laughs low and filthy, one hand sliding up your back to flatten between your shoulder blades.

“yeah. that’s it. she’s missed me, hasn’t she?”

he starts moving, hard, fast, determined. his hips slap against your ass, the sound obscene in the quiet of your little kitchen. he keeps your head down with one hand, pressing your cheek to the table like he wants to leave a mark. almost like he wants you to remember this every time you look at it.

and you certainly will.

you’re already a mess. mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, ass lifting into the air like your body can’t not chase the next thrust. he finds that spot inside you — that soft, spongy spot — and hits it over and over until your whole body shakes.

“fuck, look at that,” he groans, watching your ass jiggle with every brutal snap of his hips. “missed this pussy, baby. missed the way you fuckin’ fall apart for me.”

you whimper, voice caught somewhere between “please” and “don’t stop.” your hands grip the edge of the table like it’s the only thing keeping you from floating away. your back arches on instinct, legs spread as wide as they’ll go, taking every inch of him.

“not so quiet now, huh?” he growls, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back. “what happened? thought you were done with me? thought you’d get your little house, your little life, and i’d just stay dead?”

you shake your head, breath stuttering. “i didn’t— i didn’t know—”

“yeah, you didn’t,” he snaps, punctuating it with a brutal thrust that knocks the wind out of you. “but it doesn’t matter. ‘cause you’re still mine.”

his hand curls in your hair, yanks your head back just enough for him to see your face. his eyes are pitch black, but there’s something else under the surface, something that looks like hate, yet also feels like heartbreak.

he spits on your tongue before you can even register what’s happening. and you take it, mouth open, swallowing him down like it’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he mutters, voice wrecked.

he fucks you harder after that — rough, relentless, like he's trying to carve himself into you all over again. and maybe he is. maybe this is his way of saying i’m still here. maybe this is all he has left.

you come first, it hits you sharp and fast, your body locking up around him, your voice breaking on a sob. he doesn’t slow down. if anything, he fucks you through it, like he wants to feel the way you tighten, the way you shake.

“goddamn,” he breathes. “look at you. fuckin’ ruined.”

you’re still trembling when he comes, buried deep, holding you down with both hands now. you can feel it — the way he pulses inside you, the way he groans through gritted teeth, forehead pressed to the back of your neck like he’s trying to burn the moment into memory.

when it’s done, he stays there, cock still inside you, breath heavy, hands gripping your hips like he doesn’t want to let go.

like he can’t stomach the idea of letting you go again.

the silence that follows is thick.

you stay bent over the table, panting, your cheek damp against the wood. he finally pulls out, and you hear the soft, wet sound of it — the mess he made of you. of both of you.

you turn your head, barely able to look at him. “what now?”

he shrugs, eyes back to green for just a second. “now? i clean up. maybe grab a beer. maybe fuck you again.”

you swallow hard.

he steps closer, brushes a hand over your ass like he didn’t just break you open. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i ain’t leavin’ again.”

you know you should be scared. terrified, even.

but all you feel is the ache between your legs and the echo of his mouth on yours.

you already know… you never really left him either.

[sjyuns]

MAKE YOU MINE┆A PARK SUNGHOON ONESHOT

TEASER — releasing 6th June 12AM KST

synopsis! sunghoon likes being in control, no — he's obsessed with it. And so when he sets his sight on you: the only thing that makes him lose control, he knows he has to control you, to make you his. forever.

OR in which your pervert boss makes you want him as much as he wants you.

genre! obsessive!sunghoon x fem!reader, morally grey CEO! sunghoon, implied age gap, porn with like half a plot, pervert!hoon, stalker!hoon

wordcount! 800+ (est full fic 7-8k)

caution! mutual masturbation (for this teaser only, real fic will contain explicit smut, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, phone sex, p in v, corruption kink, meandom!hoon, manhandling, rough sex, size kink, office sex, creampie, oral sex (both male and female receiving), praise kink, TBA) MDNI

mikaela's! first ever try at a full nsfw work so i’m taking my time to write and read it over… sunghoon literally manhandle me pls. reply/send an ask if you want to be tagged

It really is a different type of feeling to be obsessed with someone. Sunghoon akins it to the delightful intensity of taste after years of starving and yearning — it completes him in ways he cannot describe. His fingers dig into his skin as listens to you tonight and he notices the small differences prevalent in your voice, it’s needier, whinier, prettier like this. Shit, he thinks, today was the worst day to test the amount of control he has around you.

“Hoon, please,” he hears you mewling out, and he can imagine how lewd you look: eyes rolled back as your hips jut up in innate need for him. Fuck, he thinks as he hears you call him that pretty name behind the squelching sounds of your pussy getting fingered. Sunghoon’s breaths turn hot and heavy with desperation as he fumbles with the hook of his belt, almost too impatient today at the thought of you.

Pants down to his knees in a fury as he feels the cool air of his home office against the feverish feeling of his body. “Shit, baby you made me so hard,” he mutters followed by a string of profanities, his cock swollen as glistening streaks of precum find their places against his sculpted body — he’s losing control and he needs you.

His aching red shaft throbs in the hold of his hand as he loosens his tie for air, the room feels hot as he watches never ending strands of his precum flutter in various angles. “Hoon, please—I need you,” your words surround him as he licks his lips in hopes of satiating his hunger for a taste of you.

His hand stops at the tip of his cock, the strawberry red tip raging for something more and he wonders if you’d get even more turned on at the thought of getting caught masturbating by him. How your cheeks would flush a pretty mauve as your pillowy, glossy lips part without word; your hips jerking forward in embarrassing need for him to just fuck you right there and then.

The erotic image of you is brandished into his mind, and he can’t help but want to see you in your most innate form — a pretty cocksleeve for him. And so he does, picking up his phone with sleek fervour, one hand still resting at the tip of his throbbing massive cock.

His finger doesn’t hesitate to press the fluorescent green call button, a short ring as he hears you gasp over his computer. He doesn’t need to think if you’d answer, he knows you will because the last thing you’d want to do is make him angry.

You stop in your tracks, finger still sunk deep into your cunt in need for another release, your boss just has the most impeccable timing, you think, because you’re almost at your second climax just thinking about him.

There’s exhilaration lining the beads of sweat that trickle down your body, and you know you don’t have a choice but to pick up immediately. Your finger hovering over the answer button before pressing it lightly and oh, how wrong it feels to be doing this —- but ever since you’ve met Sunghoon your life has never been the same.

“Hello, Mr Park,” your voice is airy and hoarse at the same time from the strenuous moans that you’d just let out your throat. “How may I help you?”

Sunghoon hums, his voice even deeper over the phone, “I think you took some paperwork for the merger with Yang Enterprise home, I can’t find it on my end.”

He can hear you shuffle, the sound of friction between your naked body and your sheets as you fail to give him anything but heavy pants. 

“Miss Y/N, are you alright?” His voice filled with faux worry that makes you writhe over the phone, your finger curling into your pussy at the sound of your name from his mouth. “You sound occupied, have I called at the wrong time?”

“No Mr Park, I just—” you stop in your tracks, a wave of pleasure hitting you as you arch your body back, hips pushing your finger deeper into your cunt as you let out an airy moan of Sunghoon’s name so faint he can barely hear it. 

White sticky lumps of cum seep out of your convulsing hole and your body feels like it’s in a third dimension of heavenly lust. “I need you,” you say, head fuzzy and mind blank with nothing but the thought of Sunghoon on the phone.

Sunghoon smirks, a cruel expression of calculated madness — he’s got you exactly where he wants you to be yet again, and this time you’re begging for more, begging for him to give you more. And now, he thinks, is finally the time to indulge in his sweet desire.

© SJYUNS