#it's just not knowing if I'll ever make it back again

[nighttidee]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄

Lad's men asking you out on a date (part one here and series masterlist here)

ft Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

wc: 3181 (approx 700 for each)

warnings: allusions to Mthys (nothing specific), inaccurate depiction of jobs, Caleb's one is a bit obsessive, but that is his whole character lmao

notes: Part two! Im already invisioning part three so let me know if that's wanted, even though I'll probs do it anyway lmao.

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier was one to watch, to wait until he was certain of his choice. He was good at that, knowing when to act and when to stay, and yet now he couldn't decide what to do. You were plaguing him, you and your smile tormented his mind, invaded his sleep, and yet he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.

He felt like he was standing on a ledge, a ledge that Jeremiah was laughing at. Xaier shot a glare at his friend as he was pushed further and further into the shop, where he knew you were; he could hear you humming again.

"My favourite assistant!" Jeremiah called out.

"I'm your only assistant!" You laughed as you rounded the corner, flashing a grin that made Xavier's heart stutter in its rhythm.

"Tomato, tomatoe," The brunette man laughed, "My friend needs help picking out some flowers, but I've got a client to call, so could you help him?"

It took everything in Xavier's willpower not to summon his Lightblade and run his friend through. Picking out some flowers?! What was the idiot thinking? He didn't know the first thing about them!

"Sure," You chirped, you turned to Xavier, those stunning eyes of yours glittering, "You're in safe hands, mister..."

"Xavier," He murmured, subtly pulling the strands of silver hair from his eyes.

You nodded and told him your name in return, and he memorised it. He'd spent many sleepless nights trying to figure it out. Jeremiah had only snickered when he'd asked, so he'd been left to his imagination. Now, all of his ideas seemed foolish compared to your answer.

"So..." You spoke softly, "What's the occasion? Celebration? Birthday? Romance? Friendship?"

Xavier opened his mouth, shut it again and considered. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremiah with a phone in his hand, grinning at him as he winked encouragingly.

Xavier swallowed, "The third..."

You nodded, "Got it! For an anniversary, I would recommend Red Tulips because they signify true and long-lasting love. Sunflowers are good for portraying the joy they bring you, though!"

"What about for dates?" Xavier inquired softly, "As in, asking someone out on one."

He didn't know why he was saying, well, he did, he just didn't know why he was saying it now. This was only his second time meeting you. He'd only just learned your name. Why was his control over his tongue suddenly slipping?

You hummed thoughtfully, "There isn't a specific flower for asking someone out, but if you know their favourite flower, that would be the best course of action. If not, you can never go wrong with a rose bouquet; they're the flower of love for a reason! Though, personally I'm partial to just one."

He watched as your fingers glided over a rose, its petals unfurling softly.

"Just one?" Breathed Xavier, he had to decide now. Back away from the ledge and into security, or jump off it and see what comes next?

"Yeah. I just find it more intimate, if that makes sense." You laughed gently, "There's something special about knowing someone looked through loads of flowers to find the perfect one just for you."

Xavier swallowed again. He'd spent so long waiting for nothing to ever happen. Why couldn't he be impatient now? Why couldn't he let himself go and pursue something new, something that he wanted?

If he didn't act now, he never would.

"Then," He murmured, reaching for the single rose you'd touched earlier, "I'd like this."

You blinked, brows furrowing as he pressed it towards you, "Um, you're meant to keep the rose until you give it to the person you're trying to ask out."

Xavier felt his lips twitch upwards, "I know."

"Then..." You began.

He leaned forward, ignoring the pulse in his heart, and tucked a few stray strands behind your ear, "A flower for a flower."

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, he could help on his knuckles as he slowly pulled away, waiting for your reaction. He was trying to memorise your features in case this was the last time he saw you.

You smiled, "Where are you going to take me, sunshine?"

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

Sylus had a mission tonight, one he would do anything to complete. Mephisto cawed overhead, guiding him forward to the desire that haunted him. He could hear Luke and Kerian even now, their confused voices as they inquired about his distracted state of mind. He'd been thinking of you ever since you drove away from him, one of the few brave enough to turn their back on him.

He wanted to know you, to caress the cracks in your coyness and find what lurked beneath that chaotic gleam in your eyes. He wanted to peel the layers of your existence off one by one until he found the core of who you were.

And to do that, he needed to find you again. It'd been weeks, but now, with Mephisto's view, he'd finally found you. This wasn't an opportunity he was going to let pass him by. No, he wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now - you.

His motorbike came to a rumbling halt before another bike, settled against the road, a familiar cat-eared helmet sat snugly on its rider, you. You turned your head and pulled off said helmet, a playful, unreadable expression on your face, "Long time no see."

Sylus leaned forward, flipping his visor up, "To Elysium."

"Trying to buy my information?" You laughed, "I'm scandalised, Sylus."

He blinked. You already knew his name. Something in his stomach twisted, only it wasn't a feeling of fear, but one of fire. It coursed through his body as he hummed, "I don't need to buy your information, sweetie. I'll find that all out soon enough, and don't worry, your name is at the top of my list."

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you studied him, "Then why 'to Elysium'?"

"The winner gets to make one request of the loser." Sylus answered.

Something in your expression shifted, a slyness taking over your features, "A request?"

"Within reason, of course," Sylus chuckled, leaning close, voice dropping to a whisper, "Scared?"

You clicked your tongue and lifted your helmet, "To Elysium."

And you were gone. Both of you bolting through the streets under the eternal night of the N109 Zone, eagerly racing one another for a price Sylus was determined to win. Slyus had a mission tonight, and this was it: he would win, no matter what. It wasn't in his nature to lose.

He could barely see you, the two of you jerking wildly through cars, losing sight of each other as you raced through the roads. The wind burst against Sylus' chest as he pressed down on the accelerator. He saw the blurry form of Mephstio dart into an alley and smirked, cheating was perfectly fine in his books.

He followed his faithful companion and, within minutes, found himself in front of Elysium with a smug grin on his face. When you finally arrived, you took off your helmet, gaze flickering to the mechanical bird that cawed loudly and laughed, "Sneaky."

"I prefer resourceful," Sylus shrugged.

You hummed, tilting your head curiously, "So, what is that you want?"

"Dinner," He grinned.

"Dinner." You said flatly.

"You, me. Dinner," Slyus explained, studying you with great curiosity, wondering what you looked like beneath your biker jacket, "What do you say?"

You pulled out your phone, "I say, add your number. We've got a dinner date to plan."

Slyus' fingers brushed against yours as he grasped your device. He couldn't wait to learn everything he could about you.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel's new art collection had taken the world by storm. Thomas had told him that again and again and again. Auction after auction, commission attempt after commission attempt, invitation after invitation. He was being driven to the brink of madness by the humans around him, who grasped and groped for the opportunity to see inside his mind and find out just what made him the best.

He wouldn't tell them. He never would. And it was easy not to; they believed every little lie and fell for every tiny trick. They weren't interesting at all. Not like you. He'd gone back to the same spot on the beach, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, only to find a ghost of you instead.

You haunted him so viciously that every single painting in his new collection was inspired by you. The paintings of stormy seas, of sweet seas, of seductary seas, were all made in honour of you. And yet they weren't enough, the hints of you in each of them, the shading of the colour of your hair, the highlights, the colour of your eyes, the underpainting the colour of your skin, none of them were enough.

He thought you'd haunt him forever.

And yet, there you stood, staring at one of the paintings still up for auction. The one centred around the seagull reaching for the ocean like his hand wanted to reach for yours.

He left the conversation he was in without a word.

"Miss Marine Biologist," He spoke in greeting. He wondered if he could get your name today. He wanted it.

"Mr Painter," You smiled in surprise, "Or should I say super famous painter Rafayel?"

"Now that's hardly fair!" Rafayel hummed, leaning down slightly, "You know my name, but I don't have a clue about yours, beautiful."

To everyone else, it would've looked like he was leaning down to hear you better, but he wasn't. Lemurian hearing was far superior to humans'; he just liked seeing you flush from his proximity. The hue on your cheeks was the perfect shade, and he itched to match his paints to it, and if he couldn't, he'd make new ones.

You laughed softly, avoiding his eyes as you murmured your name to him. He was already to find ways to encode it into his artwork, maybe he'd use an anagram of your name to title his pieces, maybe he'd match each letter of your name to one of his paints and use that as his palette, maybe he'd secretly spell your name on his painting.

"What do you think?" He asked, slyly sneaking a hand on your back as he guided you closer to his paintings. He delighted in the warmth that bled into his fingertips and palm.

"I think they're...Beyond words," You murmured, eyes dancing across the artistry before your eyes. Rafayel's burning heart flushed, softening with the gentle wave of your earnest response.

"And here I was trying to flatter you, precious," Rafayel chuckled, "You're secretly a charmer, huh."

"No..." You shook your head, trying to turn away, only to find Rafayel's head close to yours, caging you, refusing to let you refusing to meet his gaze. Every inch of him seared with an intensity that demanded your attention.

"No...?" He tilted his head, slipping his tongue over his lower lip briefly.

"No..." Your eyes flickered to the side. "People are looking."

"Then let's leave," Rafayel responded.

You blinked in bewilderment, "What?"

"Let me show you my studio," Rafayel breathed, pulling you closer when he saw you hesitate, "Come on, precious. Don't you want to see how similar my work is to the sea?"

You considered it, "I think your work is as complex as the sea. Just like its maker."

A grin split over Rafayel's lips, "You think I'm as...what was it you said....beautiful and brutal as the sea?"

"Yes," You answered firmly.

He smirked and slipped his hand to your wrist, thumb caressing the pulse point that lay there, "Only one way to find out."

And then, the two of you escaped, ignoring the calls of Thomas the whole way.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

"This Colonel Xia, status report," Caleb hummed in his private office on his ship. He'd spent the last hour doing checks with all the ships in his fleet to ensure everything was in order - they were only a few hours away from returning to Skyhaven, after all.

He was dudicious, concise and ruthless, that's what made him the best colonel in the entire Farspace Fleet. He would not have his crew doubt him now, no matter how tiresome it was to check on all of his pilots. He leaned backwards in his chair and waited patiently for his crews response.

"All systems are fine, Colonel, we're ready to go," A familiar voice called over comms.

Something in Caleb sparked to life at the words. He knew that voice, it replayed over and over again in his head since he'd heard it. He clutched the armrests on his chair tightly. Just how many times had he passed you in HQ's halls, managing only a few words here and there? He'd tried every method to form some relationship with you that went beyond Colonel and Crew Member.

And now, away from prying eyes, he finally had the chance.

"How are you doing, rookie?" He hummed, readjusting his cuff links.

"Great," Came your soft response, "I never thought Deepspace could be more beautiful."

Caleb blinked, "You think it's beautiful?"

"Don't you?" You inquired over the comms, and he wondered what you looked like. Were you fiddling with your uniform like him? Did you have your hat off? Were you completely relaxed?

Caleb considered his answer before landing on, "It's dangerous."

"All beautiful things are," You rebutted, and he heard your gentle laugh, "Poisonous flowers, the sea, the snow, the sun, they're all beautiful and all of them could kill you. The Deepspace Tunnel is no different, Colonel."

"Caleb."

"...Huh?"

"If we're going to have a deep discussion I feel like we should leave titles behind," Caleb answered, loosing his tie to escape the heat creeping up his neck. Wasn't space meant to be cold?

"Alright, Caleb. You've already got my name," You responded slowly, as if savouring the taste of his name on your tongue. Caleb shivered.

"Indeed I do," He'd obsessed over your name, it became his favourite alcohol to get drunk off, "What is it that you find so beautiful about Deepspace?"

You hummed, considering, "It's new. I don't want to spend the rest of my life comforted by the known, I want confront the unknown and space is just that. Stars millions of light years away, planets hidden by shadows, the secret of the Deepspace Tunnel, I want to see them all. I'm happy to spend my life trying to."

Something in your words hit Caleb harder than it meant to. He was a a boy again, holding his plane toy as he stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars Josephine had stuck to his ceiling. Maybe he could look at Deepspace like that again. Maybe he could ignore all the problems waiting for him at Skyhaven just a little longer. Maybe he could indulge in your presence more.

"I understand that," Caleb murmured, barely  above a whisper, "More than you know."

There was a moment of silence, weighted with confession.

He could almost see you smile, "Being out here for so long makes me hungry for actual food, though."

Caleb almost laughed, "I understand that, too."

"I don't know what I'm craving, though. In the academy, my diet consisted of cup noodles and whatever sweets I could find!" You giggled and it echoed in his mind.

"I could take you to some of my favourite spots?" Caleb inquired carefully. Cautious. He wasn't about to cross a line you didn't want him to. He could stop himself from becoming to wrapped up in you, or so he hoped.

"It's a date!" You beamed.

And maybe you simply said it because it was an expression, but that didn't matter, not to Caleb. Because he was going to use every possible advantage he had to make sure he was the only one your were going on dates with.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

He was on a bench again. It was the one he always went to at Asko, it was as famialr to him as his home was. He leaned back against the cold wood, staring out into the night. He was done for the day and yet he couldn't not find it in himself to move. The thought of driving only made the ahce in his body worse. Every inch of him begged for sleep and yet his mind marched on, restless.

Twenty hours.

That's how long he had until his next shift. Twenty hours to get home, shower, eat, sleep, wake up, eat, shower, dress, clean and get to work. His mind went rampant, trying to figure out how quickly to do things, and he knew sitting on the bench wouldn't help him, yet he could not move.

He felt like ripping his hair out. Ice crawled up his neck, and he was thankful for his scarf.

"Zayne..." That voice. How many times had he heard it over the phone over the last couple of weeks? 

He looked to the side and found you standing there, only a few short feet from him, a soft, concerned look on your face. He hadn't seen you since he'd left your hospital after the boy he'd done the heart surgery on was discharged. But he'd spoken to you, for professional reasons, he told himself again and again every time his thumb hovered over your contact.

He sucked in a harsh breath and steadied himself, "...What are you doing here?"

You toyed with your lip between your teeth, "Remember that job opportunity I told you about?"

Realisation coursed through Zayne as he sat straighter, "It's at Asko."

"Mhm," You smiled, "They just told me I got it, so you'll be seeing a lot more of me!"

The ice on Zayne's neck thawed slightly, the thorns of frost receding as he stared at you. Seeing you more often, he found he didn't recoil at the thought as he so often did when it came to the closeness of others.

He swallowed, speaking softly, "Congratulations. We've gained a wonderful Doctor."

He watched as you flushed like a flower blooming and sighed deeply. You furrowed your brows, and as you leaned close, he could smell your perfume. "Are you okay?"

Zayne looked at you and found himself softening, his words spilling from his tongue before he could free them, "I'm trying to feel real again."

You nodded, deep understanding stretched across your face, "Do you need anything?"

He hummed thoughtfully, "D...Do you have any...sweets?"

Your face crumpled, "No. I ran out earlier, and I don't know where the good ones are in Linkon. I don't know where the best dessert places are either! It's the worst part of moving to a new place."

A dry chuckle left Zayne's lips before he could stop it. "Not knowing where you can sate your sweet tooth is worse than knowing nothing and no one in Linkon?"

"Yes, it is!" You huffed, puffing out your cheeks, and Zayne found he wanted to squish them. "Besides, I know you!"

A feeling crawled up Zayne's neck again, but instead of frost, it was flush. He resisted the urge to loosen his tie and run his hand through his hair; he couldn't remove his professional facade just yet. He didn't know you well enough, he didn't understand you fully, he couldn't feel your intentions in their entirety.

But how would he ever know those things if he never took a step towards the sun?

"You do know me," Zayne hesitated, licking his lips absent-mindedly, "And I could show you where I know the best desserts are?"

You grinned widely, and grasped his hand, pulling him upwards, "Well, come on, then!"

Why had he spent all that time trying to make a plan so he could have as much time as possible, again? He certainly wasn't going to use it.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Drivers React...

...to someone overstepping a line with you

Drivers: LN4, OP81, CS55, AA23, GR63, KA12, CL16, OB87, FC43, MV33/MV1

warnings: swearing, harassment, violence, blood, assault

a/n: some of these are quite hot if I do say so myself, reader is either gn or fem as always. oh to imagine men actually standing up for women (sobs in social worker in the field of violence against women)...

LN4:

Sees someone put something in your drink, doesn't even think a millisecond before grabbing the glass, emptying it into the guys face and grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt pushing him against the next wall, "You fucking cunt will stay right here." Makes someone call the cops and makes sure that man is brought to court for that. After the fact he'd 100% pay for the ruined drink and make sure you get home safe. Doesn't matter if that means you don't trust him and he needs to call a girlfriend of his to get you home safe.

OP81:

He's just sitting there, people-watching, as you do McLaren media work by filming general impressions of the Thursday. He watches a man walk up to you, your body language change and the man's body language becoming uncomfortable even for him. He walks over determined, watches the man try to grab you with fear on your face, before he pushes himself between you two. "If you don't piss off right now." – "Then what?" The man pushes him back and against you, but Osc doesn't lose his balance, instead you hear an uncomfortable sound and a sharp inhale. You peek past Oscar's shoulder in front of you, the mans nose was bloody and he backed off a bit while some workers from Mercedes were coming over to help step in, "And I'll make sure you'll never see a race track again, dumb cunt." He'll quickly led the helpers know to ID him and ban him for assault before turning to you and asking if you're alright in the most non-Oscar level of softness. He'd even help you get the rest of your work done.

CS55:

Fully curses the person out in Spanish like an entire lineage of hispanic moms possessed him the moment they touch you, like with angry Doberman level snarl to it. The only thing holding him back from decking the guy is the fact he's already backing up. He's bringing you home and only leaves after you're inside and he hears the door lock. Checks in with you the next morning as well. Is on edge for the next three days.

AA23:

Hears someone call you a slur and goes the most silently serious you've ever seen him. He pushes himself in front of you with the most calm angry eyes and his arms crossed. "Back off my girlfriend!" – "Oh wow, I'm so scared now." – "Back. Off." He'd stare the man down until he turned away with a disgusting chuckle. "You okay?" He'd gently grab your upper arms leaning forward. You two would be out of there so fast. "Your girlfriend, huh?" – "You know these idiots only respect women when attached to a man." You knew that but you still leaned against his shoulder in the back of the taxi regardless.

GR63:

Would tower over a man so quickly if he doesn't stop with the advances towards you after you politely decline. "They said no thank you, take the hint, mate." When the guy starts arguing he makes himself clearer, "Listen, if you don't leave them alone you're gonna have bigger problems than just me." He'll make the guy back off by walking into his space so the creep would have to walk backwards. Would make sure his personal trainer was around you the rest of that race weekend in case the creep came back.

KA12:

You've ever seen an overprotective Chihuahua? Yeah. Don't make Italian men angry. They're small but they will both yell and get physical really quick. The moment he sees a man get too far into your space, making you take steps backwards before grabbing your neck, he springs into action. Kimi would start a fucking pub brawl over it if he had to. That guy only knows calm or full chaos.

CL16:

Will see a man be too weird with you and see your body language change. Will hover more closely to listen in. Hears the disgusting things you're being told. The moment the guy is touching the side of your neck and starting to dip his head down there might or might not be a sharp punch to the side of his face making him lose balance. "Hands off my partner!" Half the crowd would look at that scene, see Charles check if you were alright and make new partner the talking point instead of the creep scurrying off. "Sorry." He makes a bit of a cringing face realizing what he has just done. Both the making a scene part and the announcement of partnership that was a protective lie. You thank him profusely and ask him to bring you home.

OB87:

He'd watch some dickhead get a little too angry and close to you during a football game a bunch of people just randomly came together for during the heatwave in the city park. He'd get up, grab a football, aim and just ace the shot at the dudes head who falls over. He walks up next to you, looking down at the dude while sipping from his waterbottle, "I can make it proper brain injury if I see you act like that with anyone again." Most innocent looking neutral face, stays next to you till the dude has walked out of sight. Looks at you and just goes "You handled that well." Nonchalant protective king.

FC43:

Would commit a crime for you honestly? Like would legit deck someone for groping you and beat them up to need a LOT of stitches and three weeks of bedrest. He'd profusely apologize to you after too because even he himself didn't know he could be that angry. He could be glad everyone around was willing to claim to police that the dude had messed with him first and he defended for two.

MV1:

This man has the willpower to control his anger. He is a dad after all. But seeing a man get handsy with you at a celebration and seeing your face in correlation to that was all he needed as context to grab that man off you and essentially throw him the opposite direction. "She's clearly not into it man, fuck off!" Is willing to get into an altercation because he'd do the same for his daughters, mates and sisters. What's a black eye compared to sexual violence? Nothing. He'd proudly present that to his kids to teach them what good men do to protect others from bad men.

Interact with fanfic writers, even if it's a cute tag, that's how you keep people motivated to keep writing.

Masterlist linked in bio <3

[theuntoaster]

It was only three days later.

_Three days_.

I cradled my son to my chest, ignoring how cold he felt, how still he was, how his limp arm brushed the floor.

There was blood. Everywhere. On the walls. On the floor. Around the gaping hole in his chest.

My son, my wife, my daughter — they were all in the same state. Eyes wide open, chests dripping blood, hearts completely gone.

"What have you done?" I whispered. My voice croaked, caught on the last word. I took a breath and screamed, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

The air shimmered and _she_ coalesced. I had once thought her beautiful, when I thought I was saving her from drowning in the sea. But now I could only see the inhuman coldness in her gaze.

"You said you wouldn't leave your family," she said. As though they were nothing. A simple nuisance. Some dirt on the floor she swept away. Some flies that just didn't stop buzzing around her head until she got rid of them. "Now that they aren't holding you back, when will you leave for the Lost Lake?"

I stared at her in disbelief.

"I'll kill you," I said, "I'll kill you for what you did to them!"

"No," she spoke like I was a small child, "You will go to the Lost Lake, find the magical sword, and slay the dragon. Because you are a hero and that is what heroes do."

A hero. I loathed the term. Ever since I saved her from the sea, she had called me a hero and told me that my destiny was greatness.

I did not want greatness. I wanted my family back.

"I will never become your hero." I lunged for her. All I wanted to do was rip her apart, destroy her, make her feel the pain I felt when I opened my door and found my family like this. But I simply sailed right through her, crashing into my table on the other side.

I panted, gripping the table, glaring at her. "I will never become your hero. In fact, I pledge it here now. My mission in this life is to find a way to destroy you."

"How unfortunate," she said, but a smile touched her lips, "And here I thought you would be the one to finally slay the dragon and earn yourself a place among the stars. But if you would rather destroy me," she shrugged, "So be it."

I lunged for her again and she laughed.

"You know you will not be able to kill me through any mortal means. You would need a magical weapon." And that smile, pulling on the edges of her lips, grew wider. "In fact, if you are serious, I will tell you how it can be done."

My heart stilled as I listened. Anything. I would do anything to avenge my family.

"There is a sword that can hurt me. Only one, and it was lost eons ago. But you will be able to find it if you search the Lost Lake. And once you do, I will be waiting for you in the lair of the dragon."

And with one last, cursed smile, she vanished.

“Are you sure?” The god asks. “Yes. As much as I’d love to go, I won’t leave my family to go on some magical adventure.”

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Teaching Megumi how to eat

Megumi X reader teaching him how to eat pussy.

"Fucking hell! You can't just go straight into it, you have to....go slowly...."

He pulled back as you jolted your hips away from him, eyes flicking back to yours as concern and confusion laced his face.

"Why? Don't you just....go fast?"

"No. It's incredibly sensitive, you have to...warm me up I guess? I don't really know either but....why did you think I'd be the best candidate for your first time eating someone out by the way? It's not as if I've ever had it done to me before..."

His voice dropped and his eyes flicked slightly away, burning into the sock that lay slightly under your bed.

"I...trust you. I know you won't laugh if I do something wrong."

A heat rose in your chest, not only did Megumi trust you in training, but he trusted you with his most intimate and vulnerable self. You couldn't help but soften your eyes and feel the smile pinching at the side of your mouth.

"Thank you." A small beat of silence and appreciation spread between you two, before you took a deep breath and continued. "Okay, so...just, use your tongue to lick up it slowly, as soft as you can until you find my clit."

He softened his face, eyes slowly moving back towards yours as he put his hand back on your thighs and leaned down closer to your pussy yet again. Slowly, he licked from the bottom of your entrance up towards your clit, pulling a sharp breath and slight moan to escape your lips. Once his tongue reached where he confirmed your clit was, his eyes flicked back to yours, away further instruction.

Your eyes fluttered at the sensation, his mouth and tongue so warm and tender, now flattening against your swollen clit.

"Okay...now slowly do circles around it, but just....use the end of your tongue I guess? I'm just going off.....oh fuck!"

As soon as he did as he was instructed, electrical shocks jolted your muscles. Your breathing was sharp, quick and uneven, every swipe of his tongue made your body clench and vibrate, begging for more. He watched as you reacted to his tongue moving slowly, studying every movement and moan as if he really was keeping a mental note on what worked best and how.

You threw your head back onto the bed as your thighs tightened slightly around his head, completely unaware that you had now hooked one leg over his shoulder pulling him more into you.

"More. Do it slightly harder, slightly faster. Fuck....finger me too."

He stopped for a second, pulling away and trying to voice his concern that he'd never actually fingered anyone either. As he started to speak, you grabbed his hair on the top of his head and pushed him face back in-between your thigh, begging for more of the sensation he was giving you.

"I'll teach you...just don't stop. P, put your middle finger into me and press upwards."

Your years of reading smutty novels and fanfiction was becoming evident, every single description of how men would tease and taste their partners flooded your mind. You may be a virgin, but god damn you were hell bent on putting those scenarios into practice, even if it meant only slightly. As soon as he entered his middle finger into your entrance, your back arched off the bed and your hooked leg pulled him tighter into you, almost suffocating him.

"Lock your finger, wrist and arm together and rock slowly backwards and forwards. I read it in a b...FUCKING SHIT!"

His eyes never left yours as he suddenly felt the spongy texture inside of you flutter, his own breathing becoming heavier as he started to rut into the edge of the mattress that lay Infront of him. As he continued to work his arm and tongue together, he could feel the warm and wet feeling of your slick growing around his palm, making his aching boner throb at the feel of you, desperate for any form of friction and release. As he watched you react to him, he decided to try going faster, only to see you quiver and stutter as your moans became louder. He continued to increase the pace until your thigh started tightening again around him, almost crushing him as his name escaped your lips.

"Holy fuck megs, I think I'm gonna cum. Keep doing ex..exactly what you're doing. Until I say s..stop okay? Fuck fuck fuck."

The tightening of your stomach only increased the faster he went, until you were forced over the edge with a mind splitting white flame encompassing you. Your walls tightened around him, your moans now a scream of his name, as he continued to keep the same speed and pace you instructed him to until you fell apart around him. You rode the wave until you flooded the mattress underneath you, body convulsing and pleasure turning to pain as you neared the end of your high, sensitivity coming back ten fold. You tried to muster out a 'stop', your voice a shaking mess as you reached your weak hand to the top of his hand and tapped him as best you could.

He slowed his movements and eventually stopped, eyes almost watering as you loosened the grip your thighs had on him, taking his finger out of you slowly and his mouth away from you. He gently kissed the sides of your thighs as he then wiped your cum from his chin, cheeks flushed from embarrassment and excitement all rolled into one.

You lay Infront of him, a panting mess as you tried to stop your eyes from fluttering to meet his. When they eventually did, he had a small smirk on his face as he sat back on his heels and admired the crumbling mess of a friend Infront of him. You tried to smile and huff out an embarrassed laugh, only for your panting to continue to engulf you.

"Bull shit...have you...never don't that....before."

"Guess you're an okay teacher."

"Gimme a sec and....you can teach me....how to do that....to you.",

[formulafanfics13]

hi! can i request the older gf reader for oscar please?

Pretty Older Girl - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

summary: oscar's always liked older women. he never made a big deal out of the age difference — but he��never forgot it either. he watches you walk into every paddock event like you own the world. you're calm, composed, untouchable. until he gets you alone. then you're just his. and he makes it very, very clear that your age only makes him want you more.

warnings: established relationship, dom!oscar, older woman/younger man dynamic, age gap (reader is older by a few years), size kink, praise kink, slight degradation , light choking, rough sex, oral (f receiving), teasing, possessive behavior, hair pulling, emotionally intense smut, multiple orgasms, creampie

"You keep looking at me like that," you murmur, "and I'll end up in your lap."

Oscar smirks. "That's the goal."

You're in a hotel bar in Austria. Post-qualifying. Pre-race. Every table is full of people in team polos and tailored jackets. The buzz of PR agents, engineers, pit crews, and bored drivers fills the air.

You sip your wine. "There are too many people here."

He leans closer. "They don't matter."

You raise an eyebrow. "You're on pole. You can't risk a scandal the night before a race."

Oscar's smile widens. "Then maybe you shouldn't wear that dress."

You laugh, but there's heat in your stomach. The way he looks at you - eyes low, jaw tight - it's like he's been waiting all day to ruin you. And maybe he has.

You're four years older than him. Not enough to be weird. But just enough that people notice.

You've been in the media world longer, worked more red carpets, dated more complicated men. You carry yourself differently. Calm. Collected. Like you don't chase attention, it chases you.

Oscar never seemed intimidated. If anything, it turned him on. He calls you "miss" when he wants to make you blush. Sends photos with captions like your younger man made pole, what now?

And when he fucks you, it's with something to prove. Like he wants to make you forget anyone else ever touched you.

"You're staring again," you whisper.

He doesn't deny it. "I'm thinking," he says. "About how I want to make you come on my mouth before I fuck you."

Your breath catches.

"I'm thinking," he continues, voice soft and low, "about how I want to remind you that no matter how many years you've lived, I know this body better than anyone."

You blink. "Take me upstairs," you whisper.

He's already up, hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the elevator like he's escorting royalty. The door slams behind you. And then he's on you. Mouth at your neck, hands on your hips, pushing you back against the wall.

His voice is rough. Hungry. "Pretty older girl," he mutters. "So calm around everyone else. But in here?" He lifts your dress over your head. "You're mine."

You don't get a chance to reply. His mouth is already on your breasts. Your waist. Your thighs.

He drops to his knees. You moan when his tongue meets your skin. "Oscar,"

"You've been teasing me for hours," he growls. "Time to pay up."

He eats you like he's starving. Hands gripping your thighs, holding you open as his tongue fucks into you, relentless. You try to stay quiet. But then he flicks his tongue just right and you break.

"Fuck," you cry. "Fuck, Oscar-"

He hums against your clit. "You like that? My tongue in your older cunt?"

Your legs shake. He doesn't stop until you're coming. Hard. Loud. You're still trembling when he stands. "Bed," he says.

He undresses slowly. You lie back, dazed, watching him push his briefs down. His cock is hard, thick, leaking at the tip. He crawls over you, hands braced beside your head. "You gonna take me?" he asks, voice teasing. "Or is this old body too tired?"

You glare. "Shut the fuck up."

He laughs. And then he's inside you. The first thrust is brutal. Deep. Perfect.

You moan, arching into him.

"Always so fucking tight," he groans. "Like you were made for me."

You grip his back, nails digging into skin. He fucks you with long, hard strokes, hips slamming against yours. The sound fills the room. Wet. Sinful.

"You feel that?" he growls. "That's how much I need you. Every fucking night."

You're already close again. But he slows down. Leans in. One hand wraps around your throat.

"Come for me," he whispers. "Show me who owns this perfect, older pussy."

You shatter. He flips you over. Fucks you face down. Deeper this time. Rougher. Your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your moans wrecked.

"Can't get enough of you," he mutters, fucking harder. "Wanna fuck you through every year you've lived. Every memory. Make you forget anyone else ever touched you."

You cry out, begging.

"You want my cum?"

"Yes," you sob. "Please, inside-"

He slams into you one final time. And spills everything.

Later, you're lying on his chest, both of you sweat-soaked and fucked out. He kisses your shoulder. "You're everything I want," he says quietly. "And I don't give a shit what anyone says about the age thing."

You smile. "I know."

But it still feels good to hear. Especially when he pulls the covers over you, kisses your temple, and whispers, "Let them stare. You're mine."

[pittrabbit]

house of cards.

content: andrew cody x reader, fix it fic for season three of animal kingdom, reader is meant to be 25-30, reader is deran's friend, mostly canon compliant, A LOT of world building, reader occasionally takes place for a few pre-existing characters, frequent switch of povs, dark themes, murder, show-compliant crimes, SPOILERS for seasons 1-3 of animal kingdom, uses transcripts of dialogue from the show, starts up immediately from last part, way more smut than necessary lol, sub!andrew, softdom!andrew, shower sex, oral (f), finishing in pants, unprotected p in v sex, etc etc etc.

summary: just when andrew finally got you, his life continued to spiral out of control, losing his brother, having smurf back in his life, and with dcfs threatening to take lena away. but even then, you were there by his side, becoming the only source of light in his life.

word count: 13.4k

note: again, this follows the plot of season three of animal kingdom so it contains a ton of spoilers and some parts might not make sense unless u've watched it!!!

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➽──────────────────❥

"You want a sandwich or something? I can make you breakfast."

You didn't dignify that with a response, instead humming as you rolled on your side, snuggling into Andrew's bare chest and kissing the skin mindlessly. A strong arm remained wrapped around you as he laid face up, fingers tracing down your back.

"Still tired?"

"You kept me up all night." you teased. "Not complaining, but I need at least another hour."

Andrew leaned to the side of the bed, checking the clock on the bedside table to confirm the time. "It's 6. We got til 7 til we gotta get up and get Lena to school. I think Baz and Lucy just left her here last night."

"Assholes." you said, referring to Baz and his girlfriend. "But he gets a pass for getting my Andrew back home to me."

He twitched at that. Your Andrew. Those weren't words he'd ever heard paired together. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them either, knowing he'd probably say something stupid or mess up and make it so you never said them again. And he wanted you to say it again, wanted it to be a fact of life. Because he was your Andrew. The events of the past few days only confirmed it.

"I'll get up." you groaned, earning a matching groan from him when you left his arms, beginning the trek to get up.

When you stood up from the bed, stretching, making noises that confused Andrew's body, he looked to you, taking in the sight of your nude body as you got up to pick up his clothes that he'd given you off the bedroom floor. Meanwhile, he admired you, shifting on his side to get a better view of you, feeling a little perverted, but encouraged to keep staring when you smiled teasingly at him, making a show of walking around to purposely rile him up.

"Gonna shower before we go drop Lena off at school. I'll take some clothes from your closet til I can go back to Deran's to change."

He sat up, hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and nodding.

"Yeah, okay. I'll, uh, I'll go make us some breakfast."

But you walked back to him, rerouting from your path to the restroom and pulling at his arm as he sat against the bedframe.

"Or," you dragged the consonant. "you could take a shower with me. Saves water and all."

You took a few steps back, his hand still on yours, lightly pulling him closer to getting up.

"That's ... that could be dangerous."

"I live life on the edge." you joked, forcing a small chuckle out of him, you giggling along.

In the end, he could never say no to you. Specially not as he saw you standing there, naked, looking to him with a teasing glint in your eyes, lower lip trapped by your frontal teeth. And so he stood up, sheets falling off his body and leaving him just as nude as you.

As he warmed up the water for you, you brushed your teeth, shameless as you eyed his backside through the mirror and winking at him when he caught your eyes on him. He looked down, blinking hard a few times before joining you in brushing your teeth.

Finished, you made your way to the shower, opening and closing the clear glass door as you allowed the steamy water to dampen your skin, arching your back as it rained down all over you and giving Andrew what felt like a life-ruining view from the mirror.

He spit out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and marching to the shower, harshly opening the door and slamming it shut before cornering you against the shower wall, welcomed immediately by your arms and by your tongue, which wrapped around his within half a second of his mouth being on yours.

Greedy hands rubbed at your skin, antsy and frustrated first thing in the morning. One hand wrapped around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist while the other held onto your hip, making sure you had a good foundation and wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

This was the fourth time within the past 48 hours in which Andrew had had you naked and at his mercy, hard dick weeping at a chance to find a home inside you. But he'd quickly learned that he just couldn't help himself around you. Just one look from you, one tilt of your head or one bite of your lip and his fingers burned to be on you, to mead the skin of your hips, grip your thighs and fold you in whichever way necessary to make space for himself inside you.

He continued kissing you, hips rolling against your own, killing his own sanity as he ground into you, hardness pressing onto your weeping cunt, creating a friction that had you gasping his name into his lips. The stream of water made it so he could enjoy your sounds without worrying that J and Nicky would hear you from the other room attached to the bathroom.

"Please, Andrew." you licked his lips, nibbling at the bottom one, dragging a grunt out of him. "Want you to fuck me. Please?"

"I will." he promised, tongue trailing down your jaw, moving onto the water droplets on your neck. "Just give me a second."

You let him have his fun, let him suck hickeys all over your chest, bite you to the point he almost drew blood. You let him scratch at your skin, leaving red marks on your legs and hips as his hips began losing control during the torturous grind he'd set. You let him have anything he wanted, rewarding him with sighs of his name, with hands playing with his hair, with your hips matching his rhythm.

"Turn around." he said after he'd had his fill, strong hands already working you to face away from him before you could do it yourself. "I want you like this."

A whine left you, as if him wanting you was something you just couldn't handle. He still couldn't understand that reaction, couldn't understand why you wanted him as much as he did you (and he still wasn't convinced that was really possible). But he pushed those thoughts aside, grabbing onto his dick and pressing into your opening, sighing your name when you arched your back, pushing your hips back, showing him how much you wanted him.

"Oh, god, Andrew ..." you cried, and Andrew wished he could see the look on your face now, could see your eyes rolling back in the way he'd gotten to witness a few times already just mere hours ago.

"I know." he grunted, forehead digging through your hair and landing on your shoulder, heavy breath landing against your skin.

He began hammering into you then, groaning as you'd push back against him.

Without meaning to, he lost himself in it, pushing you harder against the glass, making your hands fall off the glass and lay to your sides, your breasts now pressed up against it and his thrusts making it vibrate with the intensity in which he fucked into you. His grunts and your whines filled up the room, overpowering the stream of the shower hitting the floor.

Cries of his name left your lips, growing louder by the second. His eyes rolled back at the sound, at the feel of you squeezing around him, begging he keep going, begging he fill you up and mark you as his again and again.

"Is it good? Huh? Tell me." he huffed out.

"S-so good, Andrew." you moaned. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop. I need- need you to- Oh, oh fuck, Andrew."

He groaned one last time, letting go, releasing in you for the nth time since you'd first let him get his hands on you. A broken cry left him, head burying in your shoulder and biting there again.

Desperately, his hand rounded your body, index and middle fingers reaching between your legs and finding your clit, circling it harshly in eight's so he could get you there with him.

And when you came, you cried his name again, fogging the glass in front of you, smearing it with drool and purring when he gasped at the way in which you squeezed him as you came.

It took a few moments for the two of you to catch your breaths, but Andrew immediately turned you back around, chest still contracting and relaxing deeply as he leaned into you and kissed your forehead, mumbling soft words to you.

"Wasted a lot of water there, huh?"

"Yeah." he chuckled. "Bad for the environment."

"But good for me." you rebutted, reaching behind him to grab his shampoo. "Can I use this? Wanna smell like you."

You said it so casually, making him swallow before he nodded. He stepped aside, giving you some space to rummage through his things in the shower, which you did freely. Grabbing the things you were going to use, you turned back to him with a grin.

"C'mon, turn around. I'm gonna wash your hair first."

"You don't have to do that-"

You shook your head, petulant. "I've been itching to get my hands on those curls. Please?" you dragged the 'e', batting your lashes at him and giggling when he nodded reluctantly.

The two of you spent about half an hour in there, washing each other's hair, gathering suds of soap on each others bodies and sharing a few kisses in between.

Your fingers on his hair had him in heaven. The occasional kiss landed on his back, on his shoulders, making his eyes flutter shut due to the softness behind your every touch. He almost felt himself falling asleep as he stood there, taking your every affectionate caress and purring when you started humming some tune, filling up the otherwise silent bathroom.

By 7:08, the two of you were ready to start the day, with you heading over to wake Lena while Andrew made a quick breakfast for the two of you, being talked into making some extra for his brother when you walked in and kissed his cheek, taking pity on a hungover Deran lounging nearby.

➽──────────────────❥

As it usually went in Andrew's life, things couldn't stay as serene as they'd been that morning for long.

He had a true first taste of what a domestic life would feel like. He'd woken up with the love of his life in his arms, being kissed and touched as you practically begged him to fuck you. He'd made breakfast for his family, having you jokingly feed him a pastry and kissing the smeared jelly off his lip. He'd driven Lena to school, with you on the passenger seat while he listened to the two of you talk, giggling with each other.

And then he'd arrived home, opening your door and leading you off the car reluctantly as he spotted the police officers waiting for the two of you there.

At first he'd believed it was some benign issue. Maybe last night's party had gotten too loud. Maybe a neighbor had complained.

But it wasn't that.

Baz was dead.

His voice shook as he asked for confirmation, his body trembling and only finding fortitude when your hand reached out to him, holding onto his arm as the officers spoke to you, offering some silent support as you also took in the news.

Andrew wanted to break down, wanted to scream, break something, take his anger out on the messengers, to make matters even worse by losing his mind. But you provided an anchor for him, worried eyes and frowny lips showing him your concern, but not voicing it, giving him space to feel everything he needed to feel without attempting to deter his emotions.

With you, he rushed to wake Nicky up, being perhaps meaner than he needed to be as he dragged her along with the two of you into his truck and went to look for J, asking you to call Deran and Craig as he drove J back to the house for a family meeting.

"How?" Deran asked, distraught.

You all gathered together in the living room, with the exception of Craig, who had run off to Mexico with Renn sometime the previous night.

"Cops only said he'd been ... he'd been shot."

"By who?"

"They didn't say."

"You didn't ask?" Deran raised his voice, though you knew it was out of sadness rather than frustration.

"Of course I asked!" Andrew yelled.

"Baz is dead?" Nicky whispered, shocked, sad.

"Where's Craig?" Andrew had been kept out of the loop.

"He took off last night with some money and the Scout."

"You try calling him?" Andrew paced around the room, not knowing where to look, where to stop.

"Yeah. He's on his way to Mexico. Probably doesn't have any service."

J interrupted. "Did he leave around the same time Baz got shot?"

This caused both Andrew and Deran to halt, avert their eyes and look to J with disdain in them.

"What's that supposed to mean, J?" you could hear the grit in Deran's voice.

"He didn't mean it like that." you finally interjected, getting up from the couch and stepping towards Andrew, holding his hand wordlessly.

"Yeah, well."

"You need to find Craig. They could be looking for him too." Andrew warned, hand squeezing yours.

"Who's coming for Craig?" Nicky's tone was worried, exasperated.

"Smurf is in jail for killing Javi, sweetie. You don't think his crew's gonna have something to say about that?"

The room fell silent at Andrew's cold intonation, everyone growing more worried by the second. The silence was sharp, bitter, making your heart race and the feeling of dread gnaw at you.

"What about Lucy?" Deran wondered out loud.

Andrew ignored him, looking down on him from his spot sitting on the couch. "Find Craig now."

Later in the day, all the brothers were called down to the police's station, the requirement of individual interviews coming up due to the nature of Baz's death. You remained quiet through it all, not knowing how to comfort Andrew, feeling inadequate at Deran's icy glare.

It was a strange feeling, feeling so out of place as the two men mourned their brother, as J shared your inadequacy, never having been too close to Baz. They discussed theories of Baz's death in front of you, clashing with each other about what to do with Smurf, how to get revenge from whoever killed Baz, who'd take care of Lena.

But looking at Andrew, you knew that in the end all these burdens would likely fall on him. You knew that no matter how much you cared for your friend Deran, how much you'd grown to respect J, that Andrew carried a big weight as the eldest brother. In your eyes you could see his worries, sharing his dread for what was to come next in Lena's life.

You gave him space, not wanting to be too much for him at that moment. While Andrew planned his next move, you went to Deran, hugging him, kissing his cheek, caressing his hair and silently crying at your friend's sadness. He'd told you to do the same for Pope. That he'd need it once he fully processed what happened.

When Andrew asked you to stay home with Nicky while he and his brothers went to give their statements, as he went to tail J as he visited Smurf, you agreed, not many words exchanged between you.

He was acting cold, detached. It made you feel out of place, gave you whiplash from how affectionate he'd been just a few hours prior. But you understood. You held your ground, kissing his cheek, hugging him and telling him you were sorry for his loss, that you were there for whatever he needed.

And when it came to be the afternoon and Andrew came home from picking up Lena, you found yourself agreeing at his request that you move in with him to Baz's apartment. Something about Lena wanting to stay there, liking her home and him wanting to give her that stability now that both her parents were gone.

He'd been shy about it, easy to read in how he was beating himself up about it, likely thinking himself an inconvenience.

"I ... I know it's soon." he started. "I know we've only been together for- not for long." but then he corrected himself. "I don't even know if we're together-"

You interrupted, grabbing his hand. "Hey." he looked to you then. "We're together. And I'll go. I'll tell Deran I'm moving out and I'll go stay with you and Lena."

Andrew swallowed, looking down.

"Are you sure? If it's too much, I understand."

Shaking your head, you smiled at him again, light, small. "It's not too much. We'll do this together, okay?"

He kissed you then, for the first time since you'd left the bathroom together that morning. He sighed against your lips, letting himself get a little more carried away than he'd hoped before forcing himself to pull away.

"I love you." was the last thing he said before grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

➽──────────────────❥

Six months passed since Baz's death.

Six months since you and Andrew took up the responsibility of raising Lena yourselves.

Six months since you'd been holed up in Baz's old apartment, playing the domestic game of a family together as you tried to keep Lena afloat.

Six months since Andrew had been dealing with his grief, trying and failing to find out who'd killed his brother.

The two of you struggled to keep Lena from wallowing in her grief, something she was still too young to really understand. Getting bullied at school over her family's reputation, she stayed up all night, didn't eat, refused to go to school. And you took on the responsibility of being there for her, becoming the closest thing to a maternal figure and as much of a friend to her as you could be.

After getting her into a private school, Andrew would begin disappearing during the days, spending a few hours parked outside as he waited for her day to finish, the rest being used up in investigating Baz's murder.

The domestic bliss was dystopian at times, not what you'd pictured, and Andrew could tell. Yet he couldn't help himself in becoming obsessive with every issue that began to arise. Smurf still didn't know about you, which was the only silver lining in his life.

Things began to look up after Lena settled into her private school, somewhere around the same time Craig came back from Mexico and J started lining up new jobs for them. Things were still muddled, with too many issues left to fix for Andrew to count, but as he came back home with well-earned money in his pocket, finding you with his shirt on and cooking dinner for him, he couldn't help but see the good in life.

In the past six months of living together, Andrew became a little better at physical affection. He was still a little awkward, not knowing when it was acceptable for him to touch you (always) or how it was acceptable to touch you (in any way), but you'd always smile at him, eyes wrinkling in amusement at how he'd fumble even after all this time.

He approached you from behind, mumbling a low 'hey' as he pondered whether or not to do that things couples did where the guy would come up behind the girl as she cooked, wrap his arms around her and press up against her. It seemed domestic, like the type of thing he'd be expected to do (and the type of thing he craved to do), but he faltered halfway, instead reclining against the counter.

But you weren't like him.

Instead of taking a simple 'hey' and welcoming him home with one in return, you turned down the heat of the burners, turning around and meeting him where he stood, placing your arms on his shoulders before sneaking them back to the back of his head, finding the curls there and tugging at them softly. You leaned up for a kiss, humming when he tried to pull away and licking his lip for an entrance.

"Missed you today." you mumbled between kisses, sighing when he finally let his guard down and laid his hands on your waist, light hold as if he was already pushing it.

Your hands moved his own down to your ass, chuckling when he grunted at it, mumbling that he'd missed you too, but barely able to get the words out between kisses.

"Job go well?"

He nodded. "Yeah. J came up with a good one today."

"That's good. You look like you're in a good mood."

"I wasn't, actually. The guys are still fighting. But I feel better now."

You smiled, biting your lip. "What, cause you came home to me?"

"Yeah."

You kissed him again, a little harder now, purposely moaning into his mouth just to get a reaction out of him and succeeding when his fingers flexed, squeezing at the meat of your ass. Pulling him closer, you arched into him, licking his mouth and murmuring his name when his tongue sucked on yours, creating a squelching sound that had your legs pressing together.

"Let me ... let me take you to our room." he interrupted, mumbling a couple of words in between kisses, unable to fully separate from you.

"What if I want it here?"

You were teasing. You knew of Andrew's aversion to disorder, well aware that fucking in the kitchen was something he just could not bring himself to do. It was something that'd be deeply uncomfortable for him, but he knew you were teasing, knew you liked to rile him up a little, to get things going by making him fight with himself before he could truly have you.

"It's dirty. Sex shouldn't be had in the kitchen."

One last kiss was delivered to his lips, with one following in tandem on his nose, and one on his chin.

"Then take me to bed, handsome."

With minimal effort, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he took a few steps towards the stove and turned off the burner before dragging you along to your shared bedroom. There, he laid you down at the edge of the bed, not hovering over you as per usual, but instead kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with hooded eyes, with his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself.

It never took long for you to break him down into this state, into a mindless mess that sought out your body like a lifeline. One look, one touch, was all he needed to lose himself and seek pleasure from your body like his life depended on it. And everything about you gave him pleasure. He could bury himself between your legs for hours, meet his completion inside his boxers as he rocked his hips into the mattress while you cried his name. He could hammer into you with endless need, reach his end as you dragged your nails down his back. Or sometimes he could lay back, falling victim to your seduction, to the breathy whispers against his ear begging that he let you take him in your mouth, arguing against all his refusals (refusals born out of low self esteem, out of feeling like he didn't deserve that sort of self-serving pleasure) and whimper your name as you toyed at him for hours on end, only letting him cum after tears dampened his cheeks.

Even as he'd grown used to the carnal bliss you gave him time and time again, Andrew could never handle how you made him feel. Even now as he knelt before you, hard and bursting through his pants while he stared up at your bare thighs, — your shirt having already been thrown off as he reminisced of every time you'd filled these walls with cries of each other's names — he groaned as he lowered his lips down to your foot, one hand holding onto your foot and holding your ankle up to his mouth.

You were sitting up, looking down at him with a lustful heaviness in your eyes. You inhaled deeply when he began kissing up the length of your legs, sucking hickeys all throughout it, not caring about the atypical spots in which he was leaving marks (next to your ankle, your calves, your thighs). He got off in knowing he could have you losing your breath with kisses in non-erogenous zones, losing his own at every sigh that left your lips, silently begging for more.

"You've been so patient with me." he whispered between kisses to your thighs. "You've put up with too much." every few words were punctured with a kiss, a suck, a lick.

His hands gripped your legs, sitting up on his knees and lips reaching your panties while your eyes fluttered.

"You're everything to me." he kissed your cunt then, tongue sneaking out and licking at your clit through the lace of your panties.

"You're everything." you whined, brain already empty as you corrected him.

Andrew groaned, burying his head in your cunt, licking harshly at you despite the fabric and rubbing his nose against your clit. It took him a while to grow desperate enough to lick you raw, ripping off your underwear carelessly, breathing you in deeply when he finally had your cunt right in front of him.

His hands reached up, grabbing your hips and scooting you over closer, looking up at you as he licked, eyes begging silently, hoping you understood what he wanted.

And you did. You needed no words to understand Andrew, just as you always had.

Your grip on his hair tightened as your hips gyrated against his face, practically riding his tongue. This provided Andrew with the prettiest view, with your mouth agape and your eyes rolled back, a hand on his hair and the other rubbing at your nipple. Andrew whimpered against you, cried your name despite knowing it'd get muffled by your cunt.

"Oh, f-fuck, Andrew ... That's it, that's so- Oh ..."

Cries of his name filled up the room, and then he lost his mind. He gripped at your hips again, sitting up straighter and pushing you to lie back on the bed, head now hovering over your cunt as he tongued at it with a complete lack of finesse. He shook his head back and forth, licked in patterns, out of patterns, rubbed your clit, lined your entrance, he did everything that his lust-filled heart wished to at that moment, stealing an orgasm from you without bothering to stop.

"Andrew, baby, that's- that's enough. I can't-"

"Please." he mumbled, almost inaudible.

And he was taking advantage, really.

He knew by now that you had a hard time saying no to him. It was rare for him to use this privilege, to even ask for something from you, but he couldn't help himself in this moment.

You'd been the first light in his life ever since Julia had been taken away from him, ever since Cath's rejection really dawned on him and he'd been made to get rid of her. You were the only person he'd ever loved like this, the only thing he needed to exist. He'd grown to a point where he knew that he could take anything coming his way as long as he had you, the one and only person who looked forward to seeing him, who kissed him goodnight and couldn't fall asleep unless he laid beside you.

At some point during his internal monologue, he'd began humping the bed, aggressively pressing his hardness against it as his hands gripped you with a bruising capacity. He was groaning into your cunt, creating a mess of your juices and his saliva while you screamed his name above him.

You couldn't speak anymore. No words left you, making Andrew lightheaded at realizing that his name was the one and only thing you remembered while in complete delirium.

When you came a second time, he followed right behind you, almost biting at you at the sudden burst of pleasure, the liquid squirting inside his pants and making him grunt at the feeling. But it was really the last thing on his mind. It wasn't something he could concern himself with at the moment because, see, Andrew could be pretty one-track minded sometimes, and right now you were the only thing on his mind.

He crawled up to you, well aware by now of how touchy you'd get after orgasming, finding you already stretching your arms towards him and making grabby hands while you attempted to catch your breath.

"C'mere, Andrew. Wanna taste."

He landed on you, mouth first and tongue ready to be received by yours. Even with his aversion to germs, he couldn't find it in himself to mind the mixture of fluids being exchanged by you at that moment. Instead of feeling antsy, his eyes rolled back as you suckled shamelessly at his tongue, moan vibrating against him when you caught a taste of yourself.

"Go change your pants, handsome. I know you're probably itching at the feeling."

"Sorry." he gave you a light smile. "I wanted to do it with you, just-"

"Don't apologize. It was hot." you bit his lip one last time before getting up with him, guiding him to the bathroom with a silent promise to help him wash up.

➽──────────────────❥

The following day hadn't gone as well for Andrew.

He'd had his usual routine, one that you'd grown used to sharing with him, tending to it every morning with little variation in between.

Andrew knew he had some issues, that he was unlike others when it came to order. He knew he could be hard to deal with, just a little too intense when it came to the simpler things.

But you'd never once expressed any dislike towards any of his habits. You'd never questioned him for anything other than clarification, wondering why he liked his sandwiches made a specific way and copying his method next time around, joining him when he folded his clothes and asking him to teach you his method, allowing him to make the bed every morning to his liking, giving him a kiss on the cheek accompanied by a 'thank you' for taking on the task every time.

And today, he'd done the same thing, receiving his kiss and heading out with you and Lena, dropping her off at school before leaving you at Deran's bar and heading his own way for some other job orchestrated by J.

The job went as well as most others, with very minimal issues and a large sum of money acquired by the end. And as per usual, they'd all decided to head back to the house for a celebratory meal, one which you'd offered to cook since Smurf was now gone from the house.

But before Andrew could walk inside, bask in the fact that he had a girl that was crazy about him waiting for him and his brothers with food on the table, he was met with an unknown car parked in the driveway.

The person that stepped out of it was Billy.

Billy, as in Deran's deadbeat dad.

Immediately, Andrew grew angry, yelling at him to get the hell out of his property, practically threatening his life in the process.

None of his brothers had any idea who he was, having been too young to recognize his face from the incredibly short amount of time he'd been around. This meant that Andrew was the only person present who was aware of Billy's heinous behavior while he was just a kid. He was the only one who knew of the endless times in which Smurf had to kick him out, of the shady men he brought around that caused trouble for Julia, of the time in which he'd locked him in a closet for three days.

But even with his anger and insistence he be kicked to the curve, his brothers were reluctant, Deran too curious about his dad and Craig just bored and nosy. J was indifferent, and you were angry along with Andrew as soon as you'd caught wind of the way he'd treated your boyfriend when he was a kid.

Sadly, it was three votes against two, meaning Billy did stick around for longer than Andrew would've liked. Him, and his companion Frankie, who Craig had gained interest on upon laying eyes on her.

Things only got worse for Andrew as DCFS started to snoop around Lena's life, questioning her, raiding your shared home, making thinly-veiled threats of taking her away. All while Deran made plans for a job with Billy, a job that required an extra man, meaning that Deran was eyeing you for the task, creating even more tension in Andrew's life.

That's how you found yourself driving a truck of cargo for them a few days later, agreeing to participate as long as you didn't have to do anything overtly illegal. Andrew was still bothered by it all, but your presence helped him despite the general worry of things going wrong and implicating you with their crimes.

You were driving contraband — as in hollow basinets in which Deran and J would hide, waiting for you to deliver them onto a cargo plane that would then take them to their final destination. After you finished your part, Andrew picked you up on his truck, driving Billy and Craig along as you all headed towards the final meeting point in the middle of the desert.

You sat in the back, diagonal to Andrew as he drove, next to Billy and behind Craig.

"You do any funny shit and I'll kill you." Andrew had warned Billy as soon as he saw him eyeing you, bothered you'd be sitting in the back with him, but knowing Craig was more needed at the front, more experienced.

"Damn, Pope. This your girl? Didn't think you had it in you."

All you could do was ignore him, look out the window and try not to laugh when Billy had reached to the front to turn on some music, only to have his hand slapped away by Andrew, being threatened with getting thrown off the car if he tried again.

At some point you parked, getting out of the car with Andrew as you waited, attempting to calm him as he argued with Billy about benign things, some of which grew more serious as they both irritated one another further.

"Remember the time you lit a fire in the RV?" Billy chuckled, wiping his sunglasses as he paced around in boredom.

"Oh, I remember a lot of things, man. A lot of things."

Billy groaned, as if already fed up of Andrew. "Jesus Christ, like what?"

"Like the time you locked me in a closet and you went to score and you forgot about me for three days?"

You interrupted, scoffing at Billy. "What the fuck? Why would you do that to a kid?"

Andrew shook his head in disbelief, annoyed to relive it.

"Okay, first of all, that never happened." Billy started. "It was a day and a half. But I was a kid, what'd you want me to do?" he continued to pace around while you and Andrew leaned back against the car, Craig napping inside it.

"I was the kid. You were ... You were an adult. You were ... You were 25." Andrew grew exasperated, likely the outcome Billy wanted.

"Yeah, well, technically, the male brain doesn't mature until age 26, okay? So we were both kids."

"I guess you haven't gotten there yet, have you Billy?" you interjected, rolling your eyes at him.

Before he could respond, you grabbed Andrew's hand, taking him away from what was clearly an stressor for him and guiding him to the car with you. Billy continued complaining outside, only getting back into the car to ask Craig if he had some oxy or some blow to kill the time.

Your wait lasted longer than expected, with J calling you guys up and telling you their side of the plan had a detour, that they'd landed at the wrong spot and needed you guys to drive all the way over there, round the mountain past over 60 miles and pick them up from there.

Annoyed at having to share the car with Billy for longer than expected, you bit your tongue, hoping Billy would do the same and leave Andrew alone.

But his silence lasted mere seconds, with him insisting he needed a stop, that he needed to score, or maybe make a pit stop so he could have a few minutes with a hooker to take the edge off. Through the whole ordeal, he and Andrew argued, with Craig annoyingly taking Billy's side in wanting to stop for a piss, or to join Billy in scoring some drugs.

"Yeah, right, he doesn't mind if you piss your pants." Billy started once again when Andrew refused to pull over. "Cause he was in diapers till he was 6." he cackled, enjoying the humiliation he was dawning on Andrew. "God, I remember that like it was yesterday. The doctor said he was regressing."

You could see Andrew's form still from the rearview mirror, posture erect and eyes looking down, likely avoiding meeting anyone's through the reflection. And then Billy continued.

"Personally ... I think it was cause he liked the feeling of Smurf's hands between his legs."

That's when you tensed. You side-eyed Billy, not daring look to him directly, but still eyeing him with anger from your peripheral vision. You felt bile forming in your liver traveling all the way your esophagus and burning at you to burst, felt yourself start to fume at Billy's insistence in humiliating Andrew. Beneath you, your fingers graced at the knife Deran had given you before you'd departed from home, telling you he didn't want you carrying a firearm just yet, but insistent you keep at least one concealed weapon just in case.

You didn't feel anything as you considered your options, anger taking over while you looked to Andrew, taking note of the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. Craig laughing along didn't help matters.

It was when Andrew's embarrassed eyes found yours in the rearview mirror that you really felt like you were about to blow up. He looked away immediately, the car's path wavering slightly, a clear indication that what Billy was saying was getting to his head.

Billy nudged your shoulder with his, urging you to join in on the laughter. "I'm serious. I can't tell you how many times I was banging their mom and we'd feel like somebody was watching us. We'd look up and there'd be Pope. Little Pope just staring at us without even blink- Argh, fuck!"

You couldn't really explain what came over you as you did it, but before you could even consider it, you'd already pulled out the knife from it's hidden spot under the leg of your jeans, bringing it up swiftly and cutting a straight, vertical line down Billy's thigh, deep enough to cut his pants and draw blood out of it — Hell, deep enough it was likely to require stitches.

At that same moment, Andrew swerved the car, coming to an abrupt halt as you all held onto yourselves to not slam your heads against the car seats due to the rapid and sudden movement.

"What the fuck was that, you crazy bitch?" Billy hissed, hands coming to his thigh and pressing on the blood there.

You didn't respond, ripping off your seatbelt and stepping out of the car, your door slamming in the process. Andrew did the same, though instead of rounding the car as you had, he went straight to Billy's seat, pulling the door open and fisting at his shirt, dragging him out before slamming him against the side of the truck. You were standing beside him within seconds, knife still in hand.

"Woah woah, everybody calm down!" Craig said from his seat, peeking back to look at the commotion but not getting off the car.

"Talk to her like that again. I dare you." Andrew huffed, almost nose to nose with Billy.

"You control your bitch. Do you see what she did to me? What, am I not supposed to defend myself when your psycho bitch goes after me like- God, Fuck!"

A punch landed straight to Billy's abdomen, interrupting the spit-filled sermon he'd been delivering. He keeled over, but was immediately slammed back against the car by Andrew.

"Do it. Beat my ass, Billy." you dared him. "Deran will kill you. He'd run you over like roadkill before he let you touch a hair on my head." you looked to him with disdain. "That's if Andrew doesn't do it first."

"You cunt-"

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that if I were you." could be heard from Craig from his spot inside the car.

No more words were exchanged as Andrew's fingers tightened back up around the bunched fabric of Billy's collar, dragging him and pushing him with enough strength he tripped and fell on the sandy field of the desert. Quickly, he led you back to your seat, pushing Billy down once more when he tried to get up and proceeding to get back to the driver's seat, driving away as he ignored the expletives yelled out by Billy as he created distance between you.

When you arrived to the meeting spot, you found J and Deran being dropped off by some unknown woman, questioning her presence until being told to shut up by the latter and letting the two boys into the car.

"Where's Billy?" Deran asked as soon as he settled in beside you, with J to the other side of you.

"He was being an asshole so Pope threw him out." Craig explained.

"Are you kidding me?" Deran looked to you. "We can't do that, man."

You shrugged. "He called me a cunt. I'd say he got off easy."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, after you stabbed him." Craig chuckled.

Deran's eyebrows furrowed, "You what?"

"I didn't stab him, I cut him-"

"We have to go!"

"This is bullshit, we gotta go back for him. This is his job!"

You all spoke over each other, with Andrew interrupting in a low tone, "I told you the cops were onto us. Are you out of your mind?"

"Alright." J gave the final word. "It's fine, let's just go."

Deran sat back, clearly angry at the situation, eyes throwing daggers at the back of Andrew's head until you punched his leg, huffing at him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to act the way you had, and you knew that. But Billy was bad news. Not only was he bad news to Andrew, bringing back painful memories and unnecessarily going out of his way to put him down, but you also knew that on the long run, he'd be bad news to Deran too. He was just too blind to see that, with his mother now in jail and an unspoken want to get to know his father.

Getting back home, you made a stop at a storage unit, unbagging all the cargo from today, the near $1 million dollars the guys had scored on the job. The mood quickly lifted as the guys unloaded stack upon stack of cash from the bags.

"That's a good haul." Andrew praised, receiving a squeeze of his arm from you in silent congratulations.

"Hell yeah, that's a good haul."

"It's almost a million dollars!"

"It's almost 158 grand each." J calculated.

"No, it's 130 each. We're six, remember?" Andrew corrected, gesturing over to you.

You could see both J and Craig faltered at that, looking to each other with a hesitant look.

"Uhm, nah, it's 158 each. I'm not taking anything." you corrected, drawing all four pairs of eyes on you.

"What are you talking about? You helped, you deserve your share." Deran interjected.

You shook your head, eyeing the large stack of money, but not caring much for it otherwise.

"I only did this for Andrew. And, well, for you. I don't want any money."

They stayed silent for a second, looking to each other silently before J nodded, prompting the same response from Craig and Deran. Andrew remained pensive, a sort of frustrated look on his face.

"Listen, this will take a while to clean, so, how about we start with 9 grand cash each?" J suggested. "Here, at least take the 9 grand." he handed everyone a small stack, including you.

Taking it, you weighed it on your hand. It looked very small, comprised of 100 dollar bills, appearing to be less than what you'd expect that amount of cash to be.

You shook your head again, throwing it back onto the larger stack in the middle. "Give my 9k to Lena. I'm sure you guys must have some trust fund for her or something." you knew Andrew did, but you didn't want to be obvious in case the guys weren't aware. "Her parents are gone, you should put this aside for her."

Andrew cleared his throat, taking a quiet step closer to your side, hand silent as it reached yours, thumb running over the back of your palm. It was subtle, unnoticed by the guys as they each put away their money.

"She's right. She's family." Andrew reminded them.

They all looked uncomfortable by the implication, knowing this would create a pattern of cutting an extra share for Lena, but none of them said anything. You made a mental note to talk to Deran about it later.

-

After dropping you and Deran off at the bar, Andrew kissed you goodbye, heading back to the Cody house with the other boys. You didn't really like staying there, considering it enemy territory, still unwilling to be associated with Smurf in any way even during her absence. Andrew understood.

You hung around the bar for a while, until you spotted Deran walking to the back with Billy, who had somehow made it back to civilization after you'd left him stranded back at the desert.

As you walked into the kitchen of the bar, you heard their conversation, not caring to eavesdrop and instead just walking in.

"—a little piece of, you know, fatherly advice. You guys shouldn't do any more stuff with Pope, dude. He's- he's crazier than he's ever been, dude. He's gonna get you guys killed."

You rolled your eyes, making your steps louder so he'd hear you coming.

"How's the leg, Billy?"

He groaned to Deran when he saw you walk in.

"Or this psycho. Did she tell you what she did to me? This crazy bitch and her boyfriend?"

Deran sighed, frustrated, not really caring about the gash on Billy's thigh he'd spotted when he walked into the bar. There was some dry blood on it, but Deran could tell it was a superficial cut, nothing serious.

"Don't talk about her like that, man. From what I'm hearing you deserved it." it was his subtle way of defending you against his dad. He didn't like to take sides, on anything really, but he made sure you knew he wasn't against what you'd done.

"Also." he turned to you. "Smurf's back from jail. I'd steer clear of the house for a while. She'll lose her shit when she finds out Pope's dating someone."

Your eyes widened. The name alone making you groan internally, already looking into the future and all the dumb shit that was about to unfold due to her return. You'd never met her, and you'd never wanted to. Being friends with Deran didn't give you any reason to get to know her, seeing as they all had friends they kept out of her reach. Even being close to him hadn't made your paths cross.

But you were now best friends with her youngest while dating her eldest. There was now a ticking time bomb until you were forced to be in her vicinity.

Things only got worse for Andrew upon Smurf's return. He pulled away from you once the DSFC dropped in on you a day after your return from the job, deciding it was in Lena's best interest if she were placed with a foster family. This on its own destroyed a fundamental part of what your lives had been for the past six months. It made Andrew spiral, with him out of the house at most times, arriving home after you were in bed and only mumbling something about how he'd been looking for Lena all day when he'd return.

You gave it a week before giving up on giving him space. You were worried about him, about Lena. And you really seemed like the only person who shared these concerns. From your understanding, not even Smurf was up to date (nor interested) with what was happening to Andrew.

And so you went to look for him at Smurf's.

Deran had begged you not to, saying that as soon as you met Smurf, your relationship with Andrew would never know peace again. He'd made sure Smurf never knew of Adrian, never allowed her close enough to poison the relationship.

When you got there, having the door opened to you by Frankie, you walked into the pool area. There was some commotion.

There was Andrew right on top of Billy, beating him to a pulp. You saw Andrew shove Billy's head into the pool water, saw Billy pull out a blade and saw Andrew smack it right out of his hand. Everyone gathered to watch, silent and in shock.

J spotted you, and so did Frankie and Craig, but you could only pay attention to Smurf, who had a smile on her lips as she watched her son beat her ex boyfriend to near death.

And just when Andrew was about to land a punch straight at Billy's nose, you spoke up, uttering his name and immediately halting his actions.

"Andrew."

Everyone looked to you then, even Smurf, whose smile dropped and eyes narrowed in your direction.

Andrew got up, landing one last kick at Billy before walking your way only to be received by your open arms.

"Go on boys. Get the groceries from the car." Smurf broke the silence, eyes still on you as you joined the guys in unloading the trunk.

➽──────────────────❥

Smurf hadn't quite acknowledged you just yet, but things were slowly falling right back into place for her.

She'd taken Andrew for a drive, making a few calls and finding out where Lena's foster home was, getting Andrew right back under her thumb with just that bit of information. The same had happened with Deran, whose father had robbed him of his safe at the bar, causing a distressed Deran to come back home for the time being.

You joined Deran and Andrew, staying at their house, steering clear of Smurf under their request, but still having to deal with the looks of annoyance she'd throw your way. She didn't bother much with the facade of niceties she usually pulled, having figured you out as Andrew's girlfriend from the moment your call of his name had been enough to get him to calm down — a skill only ever before being possessed by Julia and Smurf.

"How long you staying here for, sweetie?" she'd asked one day, flipping a pancake.

"For as long as Andrew's here, if that's okay with you." you decided to be civil despite how much you already hated her from mere word of mouth.

"Any of Andrew's friends are our friends." she'd said with a saccharine tone that made you sick.

The reality was that she had bigger fish to fry at that moment. You were a temporary problem she'd be dealing with after she dealt with Lucy and her crew.

She'd been pushing at her sons and grandson to work on Lucy and her guys, trying to convince them that they'd killed Baz and that they'd stolen the money Baz had stolen from her. Somehow she'd been able to make them believe that she'd kept that money as insurance for them, and that Baz had stolen it and hidden it with plans to run away with Lucy to Mexico. You knew it was a partial truth, but were still grateful the guys were at least apprehensive of her words, that they wouldn't fall blind victims to her lies.

But even then, Smurf was able to get them involved in her schemes without much effort.

She'd hired Pete's guys to track down Lucy's brother, Marcos, kidnapping him and using him as leverage to get her to give back the 1.4 million dollars she'd stolen in exchange for his safety.

And just like that, they'd agreed on a time and place to meet. The guys were reluctant, equipping themselves with bulletproof vests and hidden weapons just in case. The job was a simple yet deadly one, which led to your insistence in going.

"The hell you are." Andrew scoffed when you'd suggested it.

"Andrew, I'm not waiting at home to get a call that my boyfriend got killed in a shoot out. I'm going."

You were in the living room of the house while all the guys packed up the truck with weapons. You'd pulled Andrew aside, telling him of your demands.

"Are you crazy? I don't even wanna go. I'm not putting you in harm's way. These guys are dangerous." he huffed, angry at the mere suggestion.

"I'll wait in the car, outside, a block away, I don't care. I'm going. I already spoke about it with Deran."

That was coincidentally when the rest of his family made it back into the living room, eyeing you curiously at your defiant stance. Smurf had an amused look in her eyes.

"What's up?" asked Deran, patting your shoulder absentmindedly as he passed by you on his way to the coffee table.

"The hell do you think you're doing telling her she can come?" Andrew growled at Deran.

Deran shrugged. "She can just wait in the car. We need someone manning the truck in case we need to run fast anyway."

"He's right, baby. Let her come. She wants to help, isn't that right?" Smurf interrupted, making Andrew narrow his eyes at her.

"Mind your own business, Smurf."

"Guys, this is just wasting time. Let's just go. She'll drive the getaway car if things get to that, okay? She did fine with the truck for Billy's job, it's fine." J surprisingly interjected.

You said nothing more, at least glad you could be there for Andrew, already making a promise with yourself that you'd be more present in his life, no matter how dangerous the things he got up to were.

Andrew continued to sulk, complaining and angry everyone would go against him like this, but in the end he had to force a nod, agree and move on.

-

Once there, Craig parked the truck inside the warehouse in which you'd all agreed to meet. You moved onto the driver's seat when they all got off, getting one last kiss from Andrew as he walked away from the car.

"If shit goes south, you just drive, okay? Leave me behind if you have to."

You shook your head. "Anything that happens to you happens to me."

He sighed, but understood you wouldn't change your mind and kissed your lips, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before joining his family as they waited for Lucy's men to arrive.

From your spot in the car, you couldn't really see much. They were all behind you, standing at a few feet away from Lucy and her men. You could, however, make out some of the words they exchanged. Your hands remained on the wheel, ready to go as soon as they got back into the car. It was unlikely you'd have to actually drive them away, as they were supposed to be able to collect their money and load it in the trunk calmly, but Deran and Craig had insisted you be prepared just in case.

They exchanged Marcos for the suitcases full of expensive jewelry, seemingly not having the entirety of the money owed to Smurf. You could see Andrew and Craig load them up into the trunk of the car as you waited for them to be done, but then there was a voice that suddenly broke out.

"You think this shit is over?" Marcos growled when one of their men took off his mouth gag. "I'm gonna blast all you punk asses tomorrow, watch!"

"Shut up, Marco!" Lucy yelled.

"You sicko bitch. You're done. All of you!"

Andrew was on his way to deliver the last bag into the trunk when Marco suddenly yelled again, pulling a gun out of the man's belt and shooting in Andrew's direction, causing him to fall.

You had no time to react before everyone started shooting, ducking while in the car as they began shooting at it, shooting at Smurf and J who'd jumped behind it to hide.

Craig and Deran pulled out guns, hiding behind anything they could find and shooting in Marcos' and Lucy's directions. Glass shattered from their bullets hitting the car, making you lay sideways across the front seats of the car to avoid getting hit.

Before anyone could process anything, Lucy's guys had already dragged Marcos, who'd been shot on the stomach by Craig after he'd shot Andrew, into their car. They drove away as Deran and Craig continued to shoot after them, and only when the guns seized were you able to get out of the driver's seat, rushing as you'd believed to have seen Andrew become collateral damage.

They all went to check in on each other, asking if everyone was okay, if anyone'd gotten hurt. Meanwhile, you looked around frantically, not even taking note of the various shards of glass that had cut your arms, some even your face. Your chest heaved as you began to hyperventilate, unable to spot Andrew anywhere.

"Where's Andrew?" you cried out, calling everyone's attention.

Deran knelt down, defeated while everyone else's eyes widened, gazes scouting the area but not spotting him anywhere.

"Where- where is he?" you asked again, hand clutching at your chest.

Deran went to you, holding onto you when he realized how heavily you were breathing, trying but failing at soothing you.

➽──────────────────❥

You all made it back home soon after that.

The driving had been left to Craig, as you were in no position to do so at the moment. Deran's passenger seat had been given to Smurf as he sat in the back with you, holding you while you muffled your cries for Andrew.

It had been hard for Deran to convince you to go back home. You'd been adamant, nearly hysterical in you screams to go get him back, to at least try and tail the car that had taken him. But they all saw reason better than you did at that moment. They'd done this before, knew that it was not only impossible to follow them, but also a waste of time. They knew that now you'd just have to wait.

You made it back to the Cody house, everyone quiet with remorse at what had happened. Some surely believing about the chance that Andrew might've been dead by now, having been shot and not treated, or perhaps that he'd been taken and tortured as revenge for Marcos.

They all argued with each other as soon as they sat in the living room. Craig immediately lost his cool, screaming about how they needed to go after him, that they needed to head to Mexico, to act now and get him back before they could begin hacking away at his limbs. Deran seemed more defeated, sitting you next to him as you practically dissociated, head lowered and tears still rolling down your cheeks. You said nothing while they yelled at each other, sat there completely defeated as anger brewed inside you when Craig brought up the reason they were in that situation in the first place.

Smurf.

"Stop. We're gonna get him back, but we need to keep our heads and think it through." she said to Craig.

You scoffed.

"Oh, think it through? Is that what you did when you went behind our backs and took Marco in the first place?" Craig argued back.

"I did that for the family and you know it."

"Oh, yeah, I bet you did." Craig was fuming, something you completely understood.

"Bullshit. This was about you." you interjected, looking to her with the most hatred your eyes could muster. She looked back in a similar fashion.

"You did this shit for you." Deran added, huffing.

"If we had let Lucy steal from us, we would be finished!"

"Finished?" you sneered back. "None of them wanted to do this in the first place! Not Craig, not Deran, not Andrew!"

"You watch your mouth." she warned.

"No, she's right, Smurf." Deran growled, getting up and walking towards her seat. "If Pope is dead. this is on you. This is on you!"

They continued yelling at each other, with Craig accusing J of knowing Lucy's guys while Smurf screamed at them to calm down. Deran kept quiet, but you could still see the anger in him. Eventually you all dispersed around the house, attempting to catch your cools in order to formulate a plan to get Andrew back.

It took hours until Smurf walked into the living room, finding you all sitting around, still fucked up by all that'd happened within the last few hours.

"I'm going to meet Lucy now. Alone." she spoke up. She looked completely destroyed, a look you were sure was brand new for her sons to see.

"Is Pope alive?" Deran asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm coming with you." Craig interjected, only to get shut down by Smurf.

"That's bullshit-"

"You can't go alone, Smurf. It's too dangerous." J reasoned.

But it all ended the same. No rebuttals from any of you could change her mind about going alone. And she was right to do so. There was no way Lucy or her men would ever let a third party interfere, so you all reluctantly agreed. Despite your heart beating right out of your chest, you stayed down, quietly sitting next to Deran as you watched Smurf leave.

It took hours for them to get back. You sat there for hours, rejecting every offer for a drink to ease your nerves coming from Craig and matching every pensive look J had adorning his face. The hours passed as you sat there, immovable, slowly trying to make peace with the fact that maybe Andrew would never come back, that the last words you'd spoken had been a lie.

'Anything that happens to you happens to me.'

Yet you'd remained inside the car, hidden, not even seeing when or where he'd gotten shot, having no idea he'd been taken until after the fact. You hated yourself for it. It was unrealistic to think you could've made any difference, but knowing that Andrew had been taken without a single person putting up a fight to prevent it made you sick to your stomach.

You ran to the bathroom to throw up, with Deran running after you and patting your back to offer you some comfort at what he knew was the worst moment of your life.

Once the sun had set, you finally heard a car pull up in the driveway. You'd stayed stationary in the living room all day, waiting and refusing to go to sleep when the guys had insisted, telling you they'd go get you when they came back. If you missed the moment he came back, you'd only beat yourself up about it even more than you'd already been doing. You couldn't even muster it within yourself to consider the possibility of Smurf returning alone.

The three of you stood by the entrance as the car parked, unable to make out if there was someone on the passenger's seat due to the headlights blaring in front of you.

But then the passenger door opened, and out came your Andrew.

His two brothers stood there as they watched him walk over, but you couldn't hold yourself back from running to him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck and bringing his head down to your shoulder, that space in the crook of your neck he always loved to nuzzle when you held him. His arms wrapped around you within seconds, engulfing you in his large frame while he breathed you in deeply.

"Andrew ..." you cried.

"It's okay. I'm okay, I'm sorry."

You shook your head, fingers running through his hair to soothe him.

"Don't apologize. None of this is your fault, Andrew. Just ... Fuck, just stay like this for a minute."

The guys let you have your moment, with Smurf walking past the two of you hugging and stepping into the house without a word. If she looked angry, you couldn't tell, because your mind was entirely occupied by Andrew as you held him.

When you finally let go, the guys had their turns giving him a hug, eyes teary as they expressed their gratitude for his return, their sorrows for letting him get taken.

"Come on, help me pack some stuff. We're not staying here tonight." Andrew said after you'd made it to his room.

"No? Where are we-"

"Deran's. I already told him. I don't want you staying here with Smurf, it's not safe anymore."

You didn't question him. He was already decided, not even giving himself a minute of rest before he shoved a few things in a duffel bag and grabbed your hand, letting you kiss Deran goodbye and hug Craig and J before leaving. The brothers found your affection strange, but returned it nonetheless.

The drive was a short one, making it to Deran's bar and upstairs to the small apartment within less than fifteen minutes. It was silent, but not tense. Andrew held onto your hand the entire drive, bringing it up for kiss its back at a stop sign when he noticed some tears still in your eyes.

By the time you arrived, you were both exhausted, letting the day get the best of you and practically dragging your feet upstairs. The silence did not help matters, making him feel unnerved about everything when you'd entered the apartment and simply stood in the middle of it while looking down at your hands.

"Andrew ..." you called his attention, sniffling.

He took a few steps towards you, letting the duffel bag fall off his shoulder in the process. He spoke first.

"If this ... If this is too much for you, I understand." he began, exhaling, "You shouldn't have to put up with this- this bullshit. You shouldn't be putting yourself in dangerous situations, waiting for me to get back, or, fuck, joining us when shit goes south."

You shook your head as he spoke, not even entertaining the motion of what he was implying.

"Stop- stop saying that. I don't care, Andrew. No matter what happens, I don't care. I'm staying."

He sighed, looking down and finding your hand reaching for his. He couldn't deny you, not even as he tried to convince you to break up with him, to run and not look back.

"You can't say that. You cant ... You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not worth it. I can't let you do it."

"Hey." your hands lifted, dropping his and cupping his cheeks instead. "I love you. Anything I have to do to be with you is worth it. Do you understand?"

Your voice was stern, a tone Andrew had never heard from you. In other circumstances he'd feel scolded, duck his tail between his legs and avoid your eyes. But despite your tone, despite how serious and furious you sounded, your eyes were still full of compassion for him.

Without a response, he nodded, letting you pull him down for a kiss and wrapping his limp arms around your waist, holding you to him as he'd done when he first arrived back at the house. The kiss ended after a bit, but your embrace continued for a while longer. Andrew felt you shudder in his arms, frowning at the realization that he'd made you cry again.

Andrew led you to the shower, undressing you and himself, holding you under the water for a few minutes before even bothering to move to get yourselves clean. But your nails dug into the skin of his forearms, and he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. He laid kisses on the wet top of your head, chin eventually finding its home on your shoulder and lips turning every so often to kiss your skin.

When he went to grab some shampoo, your hand reached out to his wrist, stopping him before he could continue, and looking into his eyes with a look that made his heart break. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever seen you, a girl he'd always known for her outspoken confidence, her lack of trouble when holding his gaze in a way not many others were able to.

"Please ..." you pleaded. "I want- I want to feel you. Please, Andrew? I need to ... I need to know you're here."

Your voice destroyed him inside out. It was so meek and broken, lacking any confidence — as if you were scared he wasn't real, that he'd get taken away again if you made your needs known. It was either that or a belief that he'd ever reject you, that he'd ever be offered a way in which to take care of you and decline it.

"Okay." he nodded, leaning down and kissing your lips again.

You cried against his lips, needy hands reaching to his hair and pulling him closer. His own lips opened, seeking you out, taking control and letting himself have you.

It was easy to let go while he had you in his arms. The short time he'd been away, you'd been the only thing on his mind, the one regret he had leaving behind. And he kissed you like so, like he couldn't breathe without you, like he needed to prove just how much he regretted ever being taken away from you. Because this was the only place in which he belonged. He'd come to learn that that feeling was mutual, and he couldn't handle the thought of taking this away from you, of having it be taken away from him.

One of his hands slid down your body, already familiar with the song and dance to get you into position, get your leg lifted, wrapped around his waist so he could slide inside you, neither of you caring that it was too soon or that you needed more prep.

Your shared groans of relief landed in each other's lips, your noises of pleasure making it almost impossible to kiss, but still fighting the battle to try.

Andrew almost lost his balance at the pleasure of being sheathed inside you, one palm slamming against the glass door behind you to recover his balance. He pounded into you, not aggressively, but with every pent up feeling inside him. He let himself loose, liberally groaning and whining your name in between expletives, declaring himself to you.

"Please. Please don't leave." he cried. "I need you here."

It only made you cry louder, nodding your head aggressively and attempting a few syllables in between moans but failing. All you could do in between the crying and the noises of bliss were blabbers.

"Can't fucking do this shit without you. D- don't make me stop."

Your ankle dug harder into his back, pushing him even deeper inside you in a silent plea for him to never stop.

"Don't, oh fuck, please don't stop." you sighed out, head falling back.

Licking at the exposed skin there, he grunted into your neck, sucking on an old hickey he'd left there earlier in the week. He couldn't let it fade. Needed it to be there as a reminder for the two of you.

A chorus of his name hit his ear when you came, pulling him into heaven right with you. But even as you finished, now filled with his essence, he stayed inside you for a while. He kissed and loved on you, something you usually did to him instead. He wasn't sure what'd changed when he'd been abducted, but he just couldn't help himself. It grounded him.

The shower was slow, the warm water somehow lasting all throughout the near two hours you were in there taking care of each other.

He washed you while you washed him, hands soft and slow in their movements. Not many words were exchanged, but those that snuck in between the silence were vows of affection that couldn't help but leave your lips.

When the two of you finally made it to bed, Andrew laid back, positioning himself the same way he always did to engulf you in his arms. But you stopped him, finger gesturing at him to turn around.

"I wanna hold you tonight. I need to make sure you're still here."

And he couldn't disobey that request.

It felt better than he'd ever imagined.

He'd never been held like this by anyone who wasn't Smurf or Julia.

His back was too wide for you to lay down while nuzzling into the crook of his neck like he did to you, so you opted to kiss at his back, mumbling something about wanting to give him a kiss for every freckle adorning it.

"It was her." Andrew whispered after a while of being doted on by you.

"Who?"

"Smurf." he clarified. "The person who killed Baz."

"Did Lucy tell you that?"

You believed him. You just wanted to give him space to keep talking, get it all out of his chest.

"Yeah. A few weeks ago, when she called me down to Mexico. Said Smurf hired some girl to kill him."

"I'm sorry, Andrew."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But you could tell it was. You could tell that if you prodded too much, he'd break.

"I think I need to take care of her." he said after some silence.

"What do you mean?"

He gave you a pensive hum before responding. "I can't tell you. I don't wanna implicate you."

You nodded to yourself, kissing his back one last time in affirmation.

"Okay."

The two of you fell asleep quickly after that. And when you woke up, you chose to spend the next few days holed up in Deran's apartment. It was a way for Andrew to heal from everything he'd been through the past few days, The only worry on his mind was Lena, but you assured him that she was probably fine with her foster family, that you'd help him with whatever he needed after he took rest for a couple of days.

➽──────────────────❥

Things continued to spiral.

Andrew was happy with his alone time with you, away from Smurf and all her pretenses for care for her family.

But when he went back home to discuss Lena with her, he'd found some unprecedented news.

Lena was coming home, but she was coming home to Smurf, with her becoming her primary guardian due to Andrew's record.

She'd used this to rope Andrew into moving back home with her, which he reluctantly accepted after your reassurance that you'd join him if he asked you to — which, despite his shame, he did.

Immediately upon Lena's arrival back home, it was obvious to you and Andrew she did not want to be there. She'd had a taste of a good foster family, one with a daughter her age, looking to adopt a girl just like Lena, and she'd finally found some of the stability that'd been robbed from her when her mother died.

It took everything in Andrew to make this decision, but he ultimately gave in, deciding he'd do everything he could to get Lena back into her foster house, even if it meant dealing with Smurf.

You accompanied him to the foster house, sat back while he talked to Lena as they sat on the swings, apologetic as he shared his struggles when he was her age. He told her about how he was always angry, how kids would push him around, that he'd defend himself and the teachers would get mad, never once punishing the other kids like they did him. He told her about how they all thought he was terrible, even Smurf. He admitted to how awful he thought himself to be, but at least he had someone who was nice to him — his sister, with Baz being the second, and Cath the third. He told her how he promised them he'd take care of her. He cried, knowing this was the final goodbye and shared one last hug with her before getting up and walking back to you.

Your heart broke when you heard him share the intimate details of his childhood with Lena. It made bile fill your stomach, made you shut your eyes close to prevent the tears from trailing down. And when the two of you walked out of the house, you held him, letting him cry in your arms at the sacrifice he'd made.

Back home, Andrew made a deal with Smurf.

He'd give Lena away to her foster parents and keep Smurf's secret about what she'd done to Baz. She argued back, claiming he was in his head, that everyone was worried about his behavior and that she needed him to stay home with him where she could take care of him.

With hesitance, he agreed, knowing that if he didn't, Smurf would go after Lena and the cycle would repeat. He couldn't let that happen to Lena.

"What about Lena?" he'd asked.

"I'll forget she ever existed."

"And ... and what about her?" he asked, referring to you.

Smurf smiled at him. "She's not staying anywhere near my house." she got up, patting his arm lovingly. "Now, you pull yourself together and come join the party."

-

Andrew spent the next three weeks in almost complete isolation in Smurf's home.

It was never explicitly stated, but it was heavily implied that Andrew was not to leave the house, that he was not to step out of line, or else Lena would pay the consequences.

Andrew hadn't seen you in those three weeks. He'd heard from you through Deran, living in turmoil at the thought of being away from you for so long. He hoped you understood, tried to believe you when you said you did, but he was still terrified that you'd one day have enough and run off.

Within those three weeks, Andrew had once opened the door to some woman, a hooker Smurf had sent for him. She'd told him he seemed stressed lately, that he needed something to take the edge off. This only angered him further, making him panic at the thought of this getting back to you.

After sending the woman away, Andrew couldn't help himself, getting in his car and rushing to Deran's bar, no shirt or shoes on due to his rush.

When he finally arrived there, he knocked on your door, tears welling in his eyes and lips quivering. You opened the door within a few seconds, taking him in and immediately rushing to him and cradling him in your arms. The two of you crumbled to the floor as he cried. His hands gripped you harshly, terrified of letting you go and having you disappear forever.

"I'm here, Andrew. I'm here." you comforted him.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I miss you so much. I miss Lena. I miss- I can't do this."

And you cried with him, telling him you missed him too, that you'd be waiting for him until things with Smurf calmed down and enough time passed to make it harder for her to take Lena away from her foster parents. You told him that as soon as she was officially adopted, you'd drag him out of that house yourself, keep him all to yourself and never let him go.

➽──────────────────❥

prev, next

series masterlist

note: okay this one was sadder than the last one but i tried my best to give andrew some sort of happy ending lol ill have one for season four done within this month!!

[sadmusicprincess]

Friends to lovers with Riki but he acted like your boyfriend most of your friendship !

boyfriend or bestfriend - nishimura riki ────୨ৎ────

┃they say falling in love with your best friend is a bad thing, but yours was the complete opposite

꒰ tw ꒱ : makeouts, groping, suggestive content

enjoy !! wc: 2,968

you and ni-ki were sitting on the couch in your living room playing mario kart. there was snacks, drinks, blankets and pillows all over the living room floor as the room was filled with laughter.

"yes! i beat you again" ni-ki teased as he released his grip on the controller. "aww whatever, you know i'm still better than you" you laughed, leaning back on the couch. "oh yeah ?" he said leaning towards you.

for a second the air was thick and foggy. you froze in front of him with your mouth barely open. "can i kiss you" ni-ki said with his eyes on your lips. you nodded, leaning in as he grabbed your waist, pulling you on top of him. you two were in the middle of the makeout until you heard the game countdown start.

you quickly jumped off of him, catching your breath as you grabbed the controller, you looked over at ni-ki as he fixed his hair and cleared his throat. to break the silence, he went on to say "i'll beat you again"

"sure you will" you said with a slight laugh following after. though during the game, you zoned out thinking about the kiss. you looked over at ni-ki who was too focused on beating you again.

a couple weeks have passed since you and ni-ki were tongue deep in each other. anyway, you had invited ni-ki over to hang out today. what you didn't expect was for him to show up with flowers.

"hey, i saw this and they reminded me of you. so i thought i'd pick them up for you" he said smiling. your heart melted "oh riki, you didn't have to. thank you so much" you said giving him a hug. you felt his hands travel down to your waist as he held you tightly.

"alright, get off before we miss the movie weirdo" he said laughing as he removed your hands from around his neck. "you can't ever hide that smile from me riki" you said smiling. "let me just grab my purse and a blanket-" he quickly cut you off, "oh i bought us matching ones at the store" he said. "oh, okay then" you said as you grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

"so did you like the movie" ni-ki said with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. "yeah, did you?" you asked smiling at him. "yeah but can i ask you something?" he said as he stopped you from walking and held your hands.

"will you be my girlfriend?" ni-ki said, you could almost see his heart pounding from his shirt. you smiled, "of course i will" you said. he immediately lifted you up and swung you around, laughing and kissing your face. you wrapped your arms around him and let your head rest against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"but, you have to teach me your ways in mario kart" you said. "never" he said smiling as he stroked your hair.

you looked up and kissed him, he let his hand trail to the hem of your shirt, slowly letting his hand make its way up to your breast. "wait, not here" you said catching your breath from the kiss. "my place?" he said as he pulled away. you nodded as he walked over to his car, opening the door for you, as he quickly ran to the driver's side of the car.

[loveeruri]

"bro's the type to" + nagi, raichi, barou

!! mdni, nsfw themes, headcanons, bllk x f!reader, aged up characters

nagi

♡ bro's the type to accidentally make your pussy squirt while playing with it. he'll think it's the hottest thing he's ever seen and now every time you fuck, he won't leave the bedroom without making you do it again.

♡ bro's the type to unknowingly give the best kisses.

♡ bro's the type to prefer lying down on a sandy towel at the beach than play in the pretty waves.

♡ bro's the type to be the most comfortable cuddle buddy.

♡ bro's the type to use "XD" a bunch.

♡ bro's the type to be too lazy to wipe off every single one of your lipstick kisses, painted all over his face and neck. he'd just leave them on for the rest of the day. gosh he'd look adorable like that though, wouldn't he?

♡ bro's the type to somehow have the softest hair whilst only using standard men's shampoo. nagi's hair stays fluffy no matter what he washes it with.

♡ bro's the type to actually moan when he stretches. lol.

♡ bro's the type to have quality time as his love language.

♡ bro's the type to cum kinda quick. you're too sexy he can't help himself.

♡ bro's the type to text you about what he's doing throughout the day. "just had breakfast", "on the game, wanna join?", "i'll call you back, taking a shower".

♡ bro's the type to randomly start tickling you because he thinks watching you squirm and giggle is cute.

♡ bro's the type to "dude" and "bro" you when he's mad at you for something.

raichi

♡ bro's the type to send you gym progress photos. him in the mirror shirtless, flexing for the camera.

♡ bro's the type to be obsessed with the way you pull his hair when you're cumming on his tongue.

♡ bro's the type to use the most mockingly monotone voice when you make a bad joke. "haha that was so funny." while his face is like this: 😐

♡ bro's the type to be a little mean when you're taking him. "bad girl, you wanted this shit didn't you?", "such a whore, going stupid on my cock." then, during aftercare he'll give you the whole world. apologize for every little thing he didn't mean with blood rushing to his cheeks, the tiniest bit embarrassed. "you know i didn't mean any of that right babe?" he'd fall asleep snuggling your chest.

♡ bro's the type to curse out anybody who disrespects you in front of him. doesn't matter if it's a random person in public, his friends, or even his own family.

♡ bro's the type to get caught talking in a baby voice and calling you "mommy" then get all pissed off. you know those videos on tiktok? the ones where the girlfriend records their boyfriend being all lovey dovey then he starts yelling when he notices the phone? acting like he didn't just fucking do that? yeah basically that lol.

♡ bro's the type to be into anal. he'd have a huge thing for lubing up your puckered asshole and fucking into it. watching the way his own hands spread your cheeks while he's between it, makes him fall apart.

♡ bro's the type to show you off like he just won the lottery.

♡ bro's the type spam call you if you don't answer. 3 missed calls turns into 5. then 10, then 13.

♡ bro's the type to make fun of you all day, then beg for forgiveness when he finally hits a nerve. "please! you know i was joking around!", "babe! i'm sorry ok?", "i was playing with you! please!"

♡ bro's the type to enjoy it when you're choking on his large dick. he loves those nasty sounds of your gagging, it feeds his confidence. literally music to his ears.

barou

♡ bro's the type to hugely prefer ass over tits. he thinks yours is absolutely perfect.

♡ bro's the type to desire doing it in the most risky places, so that people can hear your breathlessness and moans. so they can hear him claim you as his own.

♡ bro's the type to hold you close when you're walking together. his arm always finding it's way around your nape or waist.

♡ bro's the type to just be handsy in general. he touches you like you're sacred.

♡ bro's the type to get really sweaty when he's pounding your cunt. dropping beads of sweat from his hair onto your bare skin. using all of his stamina into making you feel good.

♡ bro's the type to use all caps here and there when messaging. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?", "BRO", "THE FUCK?".

♡ bro's the type to be professional as fuck when meeting your loved ones, trying his hardest to impress them.

♡ bro's the type to never let you pay. his attractive goddess never has to touch her purse when she's around him.

♡ bro's the type to fold your clothes neatly and place them on a clean surface before sleeping together. he refuses to let your fabric get filthy from the dirty floor.

♡ bro's the type to never get the ick from you. you could be shoving your face with food or fall down a staircase for all he cares. doesn't matter. nothing you do could make him uncomfortable.

♡ bro's the type to edge your slit with his tip before he puts it in. barou just likes hearing you beg.

♡ bro's the type to lovingly tease you afterwards in a horrible impression of your voice. he'd say things like "ah yes sho! right there!", "sho don't stop i'm close!" just to see you get all flustered. or annoyed. he just likes getting a reaction out of you.

♡ bro's the type to want you to take a selfie with him squeezing your face with his huge bicep because he saw it on social media. he just wanted to see how much bigger he is compared to you.

── .✦

notes: feeding the raichi and barou lovers with this one😘

[deeokanee]

I had a vision for a Voidwalker No Powers!AU

John is a divorced veteran, with severe PTSD and guilt about not being able to protect his best friend on the field, who knows he is the one to blame for how his marriage ended.

He's trying to get his life back together and the family court has just authorised him to have his son at his house unsupervised, hence he wants to make the crappy apartment he's renting as homely as possible for him.

So he goes to some store and buys whatever he thinks a three year old would need and like. The problem is, he's not been too involved in taking care of his son before, so he doesn't exactly know how to discern between things that are actually useful and absolute money grabbing crap.

So he swallows his pride and he looks for a shop assistant, to ask for some advice on what kind of baby car seat to buy, because he's losing his mind about the difference between a regular car seat and a booster seat.

And between the aisles, in his hideous bright yellow uniform t-shirt, he finds Bob, a recovering addict who just landed his first job after years of living on the streets and committing small crimes to survive.

Bob is definitely taken aback by the gorgeous, rough-looking and clearly exasperated man, who seems like he's seconds away from a murder spree, asking him "What the fuck am I supposed to get?" and "Why are these things made to make people feel dumb?"

But despite the initial confusion, he helps John the best he can.

"We also install those, if you need help." He informs the older man with a tentative smile, only to be met with a scoff.

"Help? I have been in the field, I don't need help to install a fucking car seat." John feels almost insulted at the suggestion and leaves the store absolutely convinced that he will have his car ready for his child in no time.

And yet there he is, on the evening before his son's first visit, having a full on rage meltdown, because he's so anxious about fucking things up again that he can't figure how to install that stupid car seat.

He's so freaked out he just drives to the store, despite it being closing time, and there he finds Bob, who has just lowered the rolling shutter and almost has a heart attack when John comes up behind him and demands to be helped with the seat.

Bob is terribly tired and cranky from his long shift and just wants to go back to his room in the apartment he shares with three other people —a taciturn woman, who barely left her own room, a Russian woman and her extremely loud father—, therefore he's dangerously close to tell this rude, insistent man to go fuck himself.

But then, between demands and cursing, John inadvertently cries out that "I won't ever see my kid again if I fuck this up." That's when Bob realises that the man in front of him isn't really an asshole, not only, but a complete nervous wreck.

Seeing John exhausted and on the verge of panic, Bob takes pity on him, and that's why he stays in that poorly lit parking lot, despite it being 10 pm now, to help the stranger. Or at least, try to.

"You said you installed those."

"I said we do it, I didn't say I do it, I've only been here for a week, man."

They spend like two hours struggling with the car seat, at some point Bob's sure John broke it, but in the end they miraculously figure it out. John is satisfied, but now that his agitation has gone down he feels ashamed of forcing a minimum wage worker to put up with him off the clock. And for all the obscene swearing he said during those two hours too.

"Get in, I'll buy you dinner, it's the least I can do for practically kidnapping you." He offers, to a stunned looking Bob, who seriously didn't expect any act of kindness in return from John.

Bob's stomach is growling loudly; he hasn't eaten anything since lunch, which consisted of a shitty frozen lasagna he tried to heat up in the break room's microwave. And the prospect of going out with a hot guy isn't so unpleasant either, so of course he accepts.

They end up in some fast food place and they stay there for a while, asking those questions you ask to someone you've just met and are strangely curious about.

And when they both are too tired to stay out any longer, John offers to drive Bob home, because what kind of dick would leave the person he bought dinner for to catch the metro at 4 AM?

Bob's jittery for the whole car ride, because of course he wants to find a way to see John again. He's definitely his type and surprisingly easy to talk too, once you get past the gruffy, intimidating façade. But he was married to a woman and nothing in their conversation suggested he could remotely be interested in men. This could end in a very harsh rejection, which definitely would make his recovery even more difficult than it already is.

But he does, against his better judgement, end up giving John his number, saying it's just "in case you need someone to talk to." He then adds hurriedly "About how it went with your kid", to make his proposition sound less significant.

John saves the number on his phone as Bobby —because that's what he automatically started calling the younger guy as soon as he had introduced himself, because it just made sense to him— and will definitely use it soon, to take up on Bob's offer.

He does need someone to talk to after all, and that someone's bashful, gentle smile and darting, intriguing eyes being weirdly stuck in his head have nothing to do with that.

Part 2

[jikooklove9795]

I don't even know where to begin with this Jikook live. Ever since they came back, it's like they made a secret pact to drive us all insane. I'm barely hanging on here. But I'm loving every second of it!

Let’s start with the exact day they chose to go live. July 14th SK time. Silver Day. A couple’s day. A quick glance through the years and it’s giving "nothing is accidental with these two":

2019 Silver Day

Jungkook posts a Jikook pic with the caption “Jimin hyung’s big smile”.

2022 Silver Day

Jimin casually crashes the JITB party wearing that Maison Margiela necklace, tied to the 11/8 Jikook code.

2023 Silver Day

Jimin hops on a flight from SK to the US to go see Jungkook. And guess what? That very trip gave us the first two episodes of AYS.

And now, 2025 Silver Day, guess who’s back? Going live. Causing emotional collapse across Jikook nation. Like clockwork.

So is it a stretch to say I scratched the word coincidence out of my dictionary long ago when it comes to Jikook?

These two know exactly what they’re doing. And when it happens year after year after year… at some point you’ve got to admit: They’re not hinting anymore. They’re declaring. Loudly. They want to be seen, they want to be acknowledged, as a couple. In this together. For life.

Let’s start with that hug. So soft, so full of quiet warmth and Jungkook's smile while being hugged

The next moment?? Jimin just casually drops the fact that Jungkook comes into his room while he’s sleeping, stands there in total silence, films him, and then just… leaves???

And Jungkook just followed it up with singing "I'll go to you. I promise you" directly to Jimin and sealed it with a pinky promise.

HELLO??? Watching someone sleep while taking videos of them. That’s not normal behavior unless you’re that person's bf/gf, partner, or some soft-core vampire in love.

Because think about it, nothing about it feels casual. If I'm being honest its low key obsessive in the softest way. The level of intimacy, the audacity of Jimin making such a revelation. Ummatched. Once again, Jimin’s out here shoving the “we are not just friends” agenda right in our faces with zero remorse. This moment really took me back to their hickey incident. Different days but same level of jaw dropping energy.

He's been so obsessed with giving out all kinds of TMIs related to their sleep routine. From Jungkook's alarm to his snoring details, seeing his face first thing in the morning to how Jungkook visits Jimin's room often. What's next pillow talk transcripts??!!

So Jimin, how long do we have to wait for you to finally say that you guys are sharing the bed? Because I know what you're trying to do 😭

What even was this??!! And the way Jungkook turned his head real fast to look at Jimin after Jimin used that extra soft baby tone

Next up. Jungkook reads the “you two look good together” comment. He really does love reading the ones that ship them, doesn’t he? I mean, let’s not forget the time he said “Jeon Jimin”, not once, but twice. He's playing his cards very intentionally

Jungkook teasing Jimin with that “So who the hell did you wait for?” while watching WHO was hilarious

Jimin totally didn’t see that coming. He stuttered. It was giving:

Jungkook to Jimin: Oh you thought teasing was your thing? Let’s see how you handle this.

And let’s not forget, they completely skipped over that billboard moment in the MV. Like… we saw it.

MUST TOUCH MUST TOUCH AND FEEL HIM ALL OVER

Jimin: Do you want to get disciplined?

Jungkook: If I get disciplined here, how are you gonna do it, hyung?

BE SO SERIOUS JEON JUNGKOOK??? That was WILD behavior

Okay! When's the wedding, Jungkook??!!

The way Jimin was whiny here wanting to end the live together and go to sleep

The fake sleeping after that and the peeking at each other.

What fanfic was this??!!

At this point all thats left is for them to just lean in and say screw it.

Ending it with this:

[matchpointfaist]

what about danny and waitress! reader? ily <3

you’re my coney island baby, you’re my pretty little lady 🎥

danny lyon x waitress! reader

tw for smut, not much else! danny is a freak idk i love him

the vandals frequented the small diner you worked at on the weekends, always occupying your biggest table, sometimes dragging chairs across the room just to add more space. you'd gotten used to it after a while, their loudness and constant requests for refills on their drinks. you'd even gotten used to the catcalls and men asking for your number, despite your irritation each time. when the photographer, who you later learned was named danny, started joining them, they calmed down slightly. he was a breath of fresh air, polite and quiet, always leaving extra cash that you weren't sure he could afford as your tip. he didn't pry, didn't outwardly flirt, just smiled and nodded in greeting, only letting his gaze linger once he was sure you'd turned away. but as always, the vandals had a way of taking the innocence out of things. "you oughta just ask her out, man," benny nudged his arm, grinning, "we all see the way you're starin at her," "nah," danny just shook his head, covering his smile with his hand, "yall have already hit on her enough. i don't wanna add to it," over the course of the night, it snowballed, and eventually the guys were placing bets, trying in vain to hype him up to ask you out.

you'd overheard, of course, as you wiped down glasses behind the bar. you'd watched as they literally threw money at him, and each time, he just shook his head. you had a quiet appreciation for him, after all his polite gentleness with you. you looked on, fondly, as his respectful attitude held fast. you knew he was handsome, couldn't ignore it even the first time you saw him, but tonight he seemed better than ever. maybe it was the softness getting to you, a welcome difference to the usual men you spoke with. maybe it was his unwavering confidence in doing the right thing, in being a gentleman, even when they wouldn't let it drop. sometime in the night, despite your long standing wish to remain single, you'd made a haphazard decision to go over to the table, your phone number jotted down across a napkin. "call me," you smiled, untying your apron, "my shifts over, but you can reach me there. see ya, danny," he just stared, half shocked, as you walked away, hips swaying.

he called you at noon the next day, twirling the phone cord around his finger as he waited for you to pick up, nerves warming his skin. "hello?" you answered on the fourth ring, voice hazy through the phone. "hey, hi, it's me. danny," he cleared his throat, shifting the phone in his hand, "from the diner," "i know who you are, danny," you laughed, and it lit him on fire with desire to make you do that over and over again, "how're you?" "i'm good, yeah, just developing some pictures from last night. you?" "good," you smiled to yourself, "i'm glad you called," "yeah, me too," he pictured you, smiling and comfortable in your house, happy to talk to him of all people, "so, the guys are havin' a little get together tonight at johhny's place, just a bonfire and all, if you wanted to drop by," "it's monday," you laughed again, soft and crackled through the speaker, "yall party every night? but yeah, sure, i'll drop by. what's the address?" he had to restrain himself from thanking god, right there in front of you, as he gave you the street number for johnny's house. "i'll see you tonight then, doll," "yeah, see you tonight," you grinned, bright and wide, at the nickname, "bye, danny,"

johnny's house was loud even from the street, sounds of men yelling and music playing carrying through the chilly night air. you were dressed in a black dress and mary janes, free from your work uniform finally, your hair curled neatly and pinned back. you were cautious as you entered, looking around curiously, but your eyes found him like your very own center of gravity. "danny, hi!" you shouted over the music, and his attention immediately snapped to you. "you made it," he smiled, easy and casual, "you look gorgeous," "oh, thank you," your cheeks warmed as his hand rested on the small of your back, gentle and tentative, "cmon, i'll take you somewhere quieter," he led you outside to a small bonfire, surrounded by fold out chairs and littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts. there, by the crisp fire, he told you all about how he ended up with the vandals, about the work he was doing and the book he eventually hoped to published. you told him about your own life, how you were working the diner on the weekends as you put yourself through college, about your family back home. you grew closer with each bit of conversation, sitting with his knee knocking yours, your shoulder pressed against his.

"can i take a photo of you?" he asked after a while, fidgeting with the camera he always had around his neck, "you look so beautiful like this in the firelight," "oh," you hesitated, cheeks flushed, but nodded slowly, "sure, danny. thank you," he held practiced precision as he snapped the photo, smiling to himself, clearly pleased with his work. "doesn't do you justice," he murmured, more to himself than you. "where'd you learn to be so sweet?" "comes natural, i guess," he grinned slightly, shrugging, "pretty girls draw it outta me," "i bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, bumping his leg with your own. "nah, doll. just you," "i gotta ask," you started, heart still thrumming from his affection, "what're you lookin for? i swore off dating for the last year, but i've had such a nice time, and i don't wanna assume-" "woah, hey," he held up his hands in faux surrender, smiling, "we can take it slow, darlin. whatever you want, yeah? we can just enjoy the ride," he leaned slightly closer, eyes bright on the fireside, "i'd love to go steady with you, whenever you're ready. i don't mess around with girls," your eyes briefly fell to his lips, then back up to his eyes, "i think i'd like that, too, once we get to know each other a little better,"

you never kissed a boy on the first date. you hardly knew danny, in the grand scheme of things. the vandals were not a group you needed to be any closer to than you already were. you were distantly aware of all three facts as you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. he kissed you like a lover, like he already knew the taste of your lips, like he was already familiar with the ways he could soften you up. he reached for you, held you like he needed more, pulled you into his lap like you were light as a feather. his hands settled on your hips as yours rested on his shoulders, balancing yourself as he tipped his head back, letting you kiss him like you were devouring him. "inside," he panted as he pulled away just enough to get the words out, "upstairs," you nodded, too far gone to think too hard, scrambling out of his lap and walking backwards as he kissed you the whole way into the house. he led you upstairs, pushed open a bedroom door and kicked it shut behind him, twisting the lock with the hand that wasn't on your waist. he led you to the bed, kissed you dizzy as he laid above you, his weight just enough to fill you with warmth. his hands were under your bra and yours were halfway down the front of his jeans before you stopped, movements pausing and chest heaving. "i don't do one night stands, danny," you whispered. "who said it had to be one night, doll?" he kissed down your jaw, featherlight, "you said we just gotta get to know each other better. lemme get to know you, darlin,"

minutes later you were on your back, legs spread and dress tossed into the floor, danny peppering kisses on your thighs, mumbling into your skin. “beautiful,” another kiss, just below your core, “look so pretty, waitin for me,” and then his mouth was on you, hot and wet, dizzyingly good. he laved at you, greedy and wanting, moaning into you as you pulled at his hair. “oh, danny,” you moaned, back arched, “god, just like that,” he slid two fingers inside you, slow and gentle, curling them upwards just enough to have you gasping. “you close, darlin?” he asked from between your thighs, eyes dark as he gazed up at you. “y-yes,” you nodded, core clenched tight, “oh, that’s so good,” he returned his tongue to your clit, sucking gently as his fingers worked, your eyes blurring. “oh, danny-“ you came with a moan, thighs shaking and closing around his head, your hips bucking slightly. “there you go,” he pressed a kiss to the inside of your high, pulling out his fingers carefully, “atta girl,”

you caught your breath as he climbed back over you, catching your lips in a slow, tender kiss, his hips slotting between yours. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down closer, gasping against his lips as his cock slid against your slick center. “you still wanna do this?” he asked, resting his forehead on yours, “you absolutely sure, doll?” “i’m sure,” you nodded quickly, your hand grabbing for him, pumping him slowly in your hand, “want you so badly,” “oh, fuck,” he hissed, “god, your hands are so soft, baby,” you slowly, tentatively, pressed him to your entrance, sucking in a breath as he slowly pushed inside you, just the tip. “god, you’re so tight,” he exhaled shakily, all his restraint focused on going slow, “so warm,” “you’re so big,” you bit at your bottom lip to keep from moaning, “oh, danny,” he took one of your thighs in his hand gently, pulling your legs further apart, pupils dilated as he watched himself moving in and out of you. you were a moaning mess beneath him, the sheets fisted in your hands and your hips rocking to meet his thrusts. “not gonna last,” he grit out, already twitching inside you, “fuck, darlin, i’m close,” “that’s okay,” you pulled him down closer, kissing his jaw, down his neck, “can cum for me, danny,” “oh, god,” that sent him over the edge, the softness of your voice paired with your filthy words, and he came with a quiet moan of your name, his hips stuttering before stilling as he caught his breath.

he took his time cleaning you up, helping you get redressed carefully, pausing every few moments to press kisses to your shoulders and chest. “you’re beautiful,” he murmured, slipping the straps of your dress up, “i mean that,” “you’re sweet,” you hummed, cheeks warm, “you’re really such a good guy,” “you make me wanna be,” he grinned, kissing your forehead, “you gonna be my girl, darlin? or you still need more time?” “think we should take it slow,” you leaned into him, “but i want this, i promise. maybe we could just go steady but hold off on any big moves?” “whatever you want, pretty girl,” he pulled you into his chest, ruffling your hair slightly, “you wanna sleep over? we can go back to movin slow in the morning,” “yeah, okay,” you giggled, “in the morning, then,”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Good Girl - A Vessel/Reader Smut Short.

This man is ruining my life by being so ever-present in my brain, so here, I'll let him ruin yours for a while too!

Words - 938

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You love to see it, the way his pupils bleed black into his eyes, hardly any blue left at all as he sits back on his heels above you, his tall form imposing but not threatening. That closeness without contact, watching him as his hand pumps slowly over his cock, your own fingers slipping slow over your clit, it burns hot beneath your skin. 

“You’ll give in first.” 

He has no idea of your resolve. Your eyebrow arches elegantly, a cunning smile dancing over your lips. “Will I? Very confident words for a man who’s so turned on, he’s giving himself the shivers.”  

Your eyes delight in it, too, watching the way the pleasure skitters over his muscles, each quivering beneath his pale skin.  

His abs quake, little beads of precum trailing over his fingers, Vessel groaning low in his throat. “Don’t make out like this isn’t what you want,” he replies, eyes flitting between you and his cock. “I can see how much you’re dying for it.”  

Heat suffuses through your clit, balmy like high summer, and you feel your walls throbbing in ache to have him push between them. “I am, I really, really want that gorgeous, fat cock right up in me deep,” you purr, watching his hand quicken at the thought of it, “but I don’t give up.” 

He leans to you then, not touching, abiding by the rules of the game. “You fucking will, love.”  

“I think you’ll crack first,” you whisper, your breath fluttering his cheek, feeling the heat of his cock close to your belly. It drives you insane, but never let it be said you’re a kitten who can’t flex her claws. “Just to feel how wet it’s gotten me, imagining you inside me, fucking me mindless, making me cry out while you rail me into the bed and hold me there by my neck.”  

His eyes close for a second, and you reprimand him for it. “Look at me, big guy.” They open again, and the way the lust swims in them has your heart accelerating instantly. “Mmm, that’s it. You keep looking at me, watching as I rub on my hard little clit, imagining it’s your tongue.” You lean up to him a little then, letting your lips ghost the side of his neck. “And you always say how much sweeter I am when I’m at my most cock hungry, don’t you?” 

His broad chest rises and falls a little quicker, eyes darting to watch your fingers splaying your petals, giving him a better view of your sex as your fingers continue to weave their magic. He can feel embers glowing right in the depths of him, the desire to feel you clenching on his cock, tight and slippery, and it almost sends his brain to complete static.  

“You’re not going to ruin me with mere words, you know,” he speaks, and his voice rumbles through you, deepened by the sexual longing coursing through him. 

“No, darling,” you chuckle, “I’m going to ruin you with my pretty little cunt when you spear me with that beautiful, perfect, hard cock.”

Lifting your fingers to your mouth, you suck your dew from them, and it sends bolts glimmering up his spine, the resolve in him snapping like an elastic band. He grabs your legs, pushing them back to meet your chest, flattening you onto your back, aligning himself with your streaming hole and sinking into your heat to the hilt.  

You cry out, squirming a little against the intrusion, Vessel doing exactly as you stated he would. Long, elegant fingers move to gently grasp at your neck, holding you down, something baleful in the way he eyes you, leaning to your level and claiming your lips in a searing kiss.  

He moves in a devastating rhythm, opening you up around him, sending the sparks of pleasure crackling within you into full flame. Pressing into you hard with each roll of his hips, you’re held there and forced to take the brunt of a man who had been driven to mindlessness, and you relish in every moment of it.  

Never let it be said that you don’t love being virtually punished by his fuck, when gentleness escapes him entirely. You howl, the lewd sounds of flesh smacking together filling the air, his free hand moving to where you’re fused, thumb stroking waves of pure ebullience over your bud. 

“Please,” you beg, “fuck me harder.” And he does, and you keen against every sharp thrust, wailing for him, hands clutching at his lithe arms as your muscles clasp around the thick of his cock. Blazing heat simmers through you, crying out incoherently as it snaps sharp, floods through you like a summer tempest, wave after wave of release rendering your body a shaking wreck.  

His own pleasure is rolling golden, molten and hot down his spine, each hungry, hurried thrust culminating. “Open your mouth,” he demands, hand still holding your neck. You do, and he shifts to straddle your chest, hand clasping his thick, slippery cock and with a low grunt, decorating your tongue with his cum.  

���Good girl,” he praises, moving, his body covering yours as you swallow down his spend, tucking his head beneath yours and laying soft kisses to your throat.  

“Good girl who won,” you state, grinning when he lifts his head to frown. 

“Nobody likes a show off, babe.” 

You kiss his head, pulling him back down, your hands stroking over his sweaty skin. “Good job you still love me then, isn’t it?” 

He hums a chuckle, kissing just below your clavicle. “That isn’t ever gonna change.” 

Did you enjoy what you just read? If so, please help your author out by commenting/reblogging. If you want to be added to my Vessel taglist, please do let me know, too!

[wannabepoeticischiya]

until there's nothing left to lose

ao3: until there's nothing left to lose pairing: mydeimos x f! reader genre: angst wc: 1.6k status: one shot

He swore to you that if you waited—patiently waited with all the love in your heart then he'll be back before you know it. He would be gone for a little while, just like how he'd always been all these years... but he always returned.

He always came home.

Always.

Many had called you stupid. Idiotic for tirelessly waiting for someone who was never going to return. But how could waiting be foolish when it's for someone you never stopped loving?

Someone has to leave first. It's a very old story.

"This is Mydeimos, Crown Prince of Castum Kremnos, Son of Gorgo—why must you have such a long title?" someone sighs on the other line, the once proud declaration rupturing to shards of exasperation. "No one told you to recite it all," another voice cuts in, weaving threads of barely contained mirth with the tapestry of someone's laughter. "Leave a message after the 'There is no word for that in the Kremnoan Language'—hey! I was just teasing!"

There's a strange sense that comes with losing someone you love.

"Hello, De... um," a breath stutters in the air, clouding in the little space where the light couldn't paint the walls golden. "Happy... Happy birthday, De. And uh..." footsteps echo in the darkness, bouncing off the faded walls and the upturned picture frames. "I know you're not around to hear this but I'm still waiting—" a choked sob cuts through the silence, tears painting the dusty carpets��and if someone were to listen keenly, the rumble of her scattered heart would resound in the never ending soundlessness of suffering.

In the far side of the room, another teleslate is alit, with the face of a smiling woman casting a glow against the ceiling.

Another breath is taken, careful and tightening... as if someone was pulling at the threads so a heart may not come undone. "You would have been far older today, and we um—we would have finished the pancakes." Pulling and pulling until the seams are dyed with the ichor of the sun god, until all the grief that threatened to flee would still remain where the ache continued to fester. "And I'm just so proud of you for being strong, and kind, and brave... and for being the one to drive the tides away."

Someone crumples to the floor, clutching a fading red robe embroidered with patterns that only ever looked great on him. "You know in a few days I'll probably be calling you again... to talk to you again." A broken exhale shatters the air. "Because that's the day you died."

One moment he's there; he's alive, and he's well and he's smiling. He's smiling—that big, daunting, happy smile he withholds like an oath. He's laughing at the dinner table, telling all about how his mother tongue has no word for such a foolish thing. He's across the room, or down the hall, maybe even hanging the clothes to dry at the balcony.

He's here.

He exists.

He’s okay.

"And in a few days... I'll still be waiting. And even more after that, I'll still be here."

One day he ventures out to protect your world—to protect you.

"But right now... right now I hope that wherever you are," you hold onto his clothes tighter... like it could somehow chain you tighter to the feeling of him. "I hope they have the best parties," you whisper, curling tighter into the space where you could pretend his warmth still existed. "And if they don't, you can always come back... and we'll have one here."

And there you catch yourself thinking, I wish things were different.

"I love you... and I miss you... a lot."

As if all the time the universe had to offer could never be enough... it was never enough.

Because now, the Titans have to break apart the framework of forever just to make room for the rest of eternity… because grief took everything for itself.

So here I am begging you to return, begging you for at least one more moment, one more touch... one more hug. But I can't...

Because one day—one day, there was someone at the door. And there you once cradled that fragile hope that he had finally returned. There was someone at your door, knocking.

Yet when you opened it—when you swing it open in hopes that he's finally home, you see someone in a medical coat or a police uniform, back then you weren't really sure because another thought, something you could hardly believe could come true, had taken root in your mind.

You knew it then, even before anything was said.

And before you know it, you're standing behind a glass wall, getting questioned if the person before you is someone with the same name as him. And you wanted to say no—no that can't possibly be him.

Because he promised he'd return.

He swore to you that if you waited—patiently waited with all the love in your heart then he'll be back before you know it. He would be gone for a little while, just like how he'd always been all these years... but he always returned.

He always came home.

Always.

So how could it be? That someone with the same shade of hair was lying on the cold slab of this godawful place? How could his markings be etched on this lifeless person's skin? How could his promises drift away like the lives he had fought so valiantly to keep?

The head healer asked you again, although you knew exactly that she was privy of the truth: he had broken what he had promised to you. But saying it out loud felt too much like bringing the weight of reality down to your frail, breaking hope—hope that he'll be waiting for you after you return from whatever the hell this was.

You don't cry and you don't falter... because you might as well have laid right there next to him, because all of you had died the moment you nod your head to say that it's him.

I understand. I don't understand. And still, you'll hold your hands over the ears of your heart, so that you will not hate him.

When the day settles into the hours of descent, you return home, saying the words like spellwork 'I'm home' but only the harrowing echo of your own voice greets you back.

For a moment, you're unsure of where you stand; if you're freefalling into the hands of Thanatos or you're stuck in a loop by the chains of Oronyx. Only one thing ever remained: silence.

It was strange not having to brace yourself for the chaos about to unfold at the other side of the door, that you wouldn't have to gather every atom of your patience for what awaited you. How the thing that should have annoyed you the most became something you wished to hear—to see just for one last time.

Because you don't lose someone once. You lose them in all the ways you used to love them.

You search for his stubbornness, for his grit, and his resolve. You look to the skies for his warmth, for the sun to mimic even just a fraction of his comfort—a mirror of his love. You look to the crowd for his voice, his firm, daunting, and commanding call. You tether yourself to his promises—the ones he had always kept until he broke them all at once.

Yet no matter how earnestly you hope for him to be there, to be at the center of ten thousand people, across the vastness of the world—all that remains is the silence of his absence, existing in the space he used to occupy.

You lose him for every moment you wake. You lose him in every breath, every thought... every heartbeat. You lose him when someone speaks his name. You lose him in every scenery, in the laughter he would have loved to join. You lose him infinitely. Grief would take him from you time and time again, over and over until you're grasping for the memories: his laugh, his smile, his face, his warmth, his voice—desperate to have even the slightest reminder of him... even if it would hurt you unendingly.

He was everywhere… except right here. 

The space beside you remained cold, free from him. Devoid of the daylight that lingers around him. Forever an empty space he could no longer fill.

Time was the longest distance between two places. That he exists somewhere out there, untouched by the light of the sun you see now. And you exist here, where he is so far out of reach.

Before long you'd find yourself asking: were his eyes an everlasting shade of red like the flowers that bloom on the outskirts of the city? Or were they yellow, a mirror of the sun that continued to rise even after he was gone? Or gray... like how the world looks like after losing him.

You will never stop losing him, even if there was nothing left to lose.

You began counting the days since he left; then you realized that you would continue counting until there were no more days left to count. You would keep the flame outside the door of your house in a world he abandoned. Until even Thanatos, who had so cruelly taken him away... would clap in his awful way for how you held onto a flickering ray of hope that had already ceased to exist.

Many had called you stupid. Idiotic for tirelessly waiting for someone who was never going to return. But how could waiting be foolish when it's for someone you never stopped loving?

He seems to follow me everywhere I go: in the pancakes we used to share for breakfast, the children I see in the Holy City, in the gentleness of silence he loved so dearly.

I did a great job never once breaking down at the sight of his demise... but calling him and never hearing him answer is ripping me apart.

I'm happy to have had you... that the universe let me have you for a while. They gave you early—in its grandest mercy so it seems... because it knew that I wouldn't grow old with you.

“Happy birthday, De…”

not me writing this on notepad in light mode with my dimming bedroom light at 3 AM listening to sad songs because my brain struggles greatly with identifying emotions and that's been killing me for the past week and a couple of years or so 💀 writing is sort of like a safe space where I can depict it in the way my brain sees it and helps me practice with recognizing the patterns. also my heart absolutely shattered when my sister told me what happened to mydei (no I haven't gotten to that part yet, I deadass teared up in front of her and began to cry and she just stared at me 😭) and I'm constantly bracing myself when I do the hsr quest but somehow it never really prepares me for what's gonna happen 💔

[cranialberry]

Himbos Have Theories Too!

"Satoru Gojo knows two things for certain: that the speed of light moves at 299,792,458 meters per second, and that somehow, your pull got to him first."

𝜗ৎ pairing: fratboy!Gojo x reader

𝜗ৎ synopsis: On a mission to confront a ghosting lab partner, you find out that not all hypotheses are meant to be tested. Exhibit A: Satoru Gojo—scientifically engineered to ruin your peace.

𝜗ৎ tags: college au, physics major gojo, frat boy gojo, one-sided until it's not, gojo has a big crush, gojo pines through science pick up lines, subtle confession, sexual content, p in v, oral, eating out, porn with plot, fingering, cum eating, gojo tells you anatomy facts while getting it lol, banter as foreplay, Gojo Satoru is down bad, STEM but make it romantic, no beta we die like gojo during the shinjuku arc

a/n: this entire fic was an excuse to combine fratboy!Gojo and nerd!Gojo into one whole gojo persona lmao and I regret nothing. enjoy. (p.s. I don't proofread anything. If ever you stumble on a fuck ton of typos feel free to drag me. Maybe public shame will finally force me into using spellcheck.)

credits: (dividers) @cafekitsune @viviansturns @enchanthings (gojo art) @Elychwan on pinterest bc I couldn’t find the original source 😿

“Shoko please you are my only hope in this dying world.”

There's a sigh on the other end of the call. “You get so dramatic when you’re desperate. Didn't realize you had a full emotional range hidden in there.” You hear some shuffling like you had seemingly disturbed her from a nap–and really, what kind of person takes a nap at 11 a.m unless their sleep schedule is diabolically dreadful?

Apparently. Shoko Ieiri. 3rd year Biology major. Once dissected a fetal pig and a PolSci guy’s ego on the same day. Neither of them survived. She's also the undefeated beer pong queen at the local dive. Go figure.

From what you know, Shoko's tight with some of the guys at Sigma Nu, one of whom you just had to get partnered up with for lab practicals, which, you had just found out, takes up 40% of your final grade. Cool cool cool.

“He hasn't replied to any of my emails or the 13 Canvas messages I sent out. I even considered smoke signals. Seriously, what even goes on in Sigma Nu that keeps him so occupied? It’s turning into a Sigma Nuisance.” Puns fully intended. It keeps you alive.

Another sigh escapes from the other end. You can't tell if It’s because she just woke up or that she’s already tired of you. “Hey man, it’s good. I'll do it. I'll tell him.”

You go quiet. Shoko breaks the static.

“Huh? Hellooo? Are you still there? I’m gonna hang up—“

“Shoko no!” You let out a screech, unbothered about what it would do to the neighbors. Not when you’re suddenly blessed with a miracle you cannot let waste get to.

“It’s just… no conditions? Really? I mean, I know It’s kind of a hassle to head to the frat house–especially with your chronic case of being aggressively low-energy in any place but the bar.”

Shoko lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Bitch I’m an academic hostage, not an alcoholic. And no, I don't work pro bono. Duhhh.” There's rustling on the other end, and Shoko is getting out of bed which, really, is the bigger miracle in this situation. “Party at 9 tonight and I’ll help you out.”

This time you let out a sigh. “By who? The semester literally just started and everyone already wants to get high and dry.” Then again, you can't really blame anyone. Nothing screams “Welcome back to hell” like a four-chapter statistics quiz and a TA with a superiority complex. If flunking grades had a scent, It’d probably be tequila.

“Sigma Noodleheads, obviously. Why do you think I don't pay for drinks?” Shoko says matter of factly. “Satoru will be there anyway. Him and Suguru concocted this god-awful jello shot–some peach, Red Bull and lime abomination. It tastes absurd and they want everyone to try it.”

You glance at your watch and realize class starts in a few minutes. As students shuffle in and out of the dining hall, you start stuffing your own things into your bag and head out. “He better not be slammed by the time we get there.”

You’ve yet to actually meet the guy, but you also certainly don’t live under a pile of rocks. Satoru Gojo to you somehow defied the laws of time and space by being a physics major while embodying the ultimate trifecta of frat boy charm, jock swagger, and textbook fuckboy energy. Finding out he’s a brother at Sigma Nu was unsurprising, and to be honest, explains a whole lot. The guy walks around campus like he’s being followed by an imaginary theme song.

So you’ve heard things—some sound like myths, some are not, and some you can’t really confirm. Rumor has it he was the legendary menace that vaporized more than half of the department’s GPAs with a casual curve-breaker on the chem exam last semester. You also heard that he once derived Schrodinger’s equation in crayon at a frat party while balancing a solo cup on his head blindfolded and holding a girl’s attention span all at once (ok now someone lied with that one).

The thing is, for whatever reason, people seem to really love to suck up to a guy like that. You’d think someone with that much going on would save you the troubles that come with having to discuss affairs of academia as partners.

Why is the bastard unresponsive now?

So he can apparently solve triple integrals while hungover but can’t even send a text back?

You think to yourself that his reputation must be some sort of orchestrated scam, or a social experiment directed right at you.

A last resort has been conjuring up in your head for a while now: threaten him with suspension and a strongly worded Reddit review of his entire frat.

“Ok I’m in. Not taking any drinks though. Got a test in the morning.” And Shoko audibly gags.

“Boo hoo. You must be on some strong crack because no normal person intentionally signs up for morning classes.”

“So I guess me and the other hundred students are all on performance-enhancing drugs, then.” You round the corner of the hall and draw closer to the lecture hall for your next class. Weaving through the small crowd of students gathered outside, you shift your phone and quickly wrap up the call. “Gotta go. Stats starts in a few. Catch you later though.”

“Buh bye, sugarplum. Picking you up at 8.”

You visibly cringe at the nickname, but Shoko hangs up before you can protest, leaving you to brave another two hours of statistics hell on your own.

You're going to kick Satoru Gojo’s balls when you see him.

---

You shouldn't have been this desperate. That was the first thought to come to mind when you and Shoko arrive at the front yard of the frat house.

Did they hang up toilet paper with glitter on the trees for decoration? And why is a disco ball hanging on top of the front door like a mistletoe? You squint closer at the architectural fever dream that is the Sigma Nu house and think to yourself how anyone could live in a place like this. It might qualify as a public safety hazard.

“This place stinks. I’m going home.” You hesitate to even step inside the gates with how loud the music was booming.

“Sure, and fail your labs.” A loud and long groan escapes you as Shoko drags you by the forearm to the front door.

You really don't know what you expected when you got inside. Then again, college parties seemed less like a social gathering and more of a wildlife documentary. And with the whole fiasco up front, your hopes were already circling the drain.

To your left: a living room. There's a guy with a red table cloth tied around his shoulders standing on a coffee table, flapping his arms and yelling something about human flight being a mindset.

To your right: regret. Pure, visual regret. You immediately flush and avert your gaze because whatever is going on over there looks like the prelude to an orgy.

So you press forward, hands tightening around Shoko's arm. You’re praying wherever she’s taking you at least has juice and one person whose brain hasn't been marinated in alcohol.

“Shoko! And you brought a stray.” Mei emerges from some corner, carrying two cups and a mean smirk. Great, you think, more alcoholics.

“Oh hey. Banger party.” Shoko deadpans as Mei hands her the cup. She downs it in one go without a second thought. You’re not sure if her stomach is made of steel or she just has no will to live.

“Wasn’t gonna come.” Shoko continues, nudging her head in your direction. “But little missy is on a mission to find her long-lost lab partner.”

Mei turns to you, eyes narrowing as if she’s figured you out. “Thought so. I came over from the mere shock I had seeing you of all people at a place like this.”

You scoff, loud enough to make your feelings of disdain known. “Trust me I’m never coming back here again. Everything smells like Axe body spray.”

Mei grabs a nearby shot glass filled with a pinkish substance that looks like radioactive slush.

“You must've been really desperate then. Jello shot?”

You stare at it. It stares back.

Red Bull and peach huh?

“Gross, no thank you.” You hold your hands up like It’s cursed. Mei shrugs and downs it anyway.

As Shoko and Mei dive into a passionate debate about whether vodka counts as a justifiable coping mechanism, you take the time to observe your surroundings. It’s pure lawsuit-level chaos. It’s worse than the movies even.

And in that moment, a deeply unsettling thought surfaces: there’s no way the government is banking on these people to become the next generation’s workforce right?

You take a fat sip of your juice and stand in quiet horror. God help us all.

---

You were beginning to think Shoko ditched you on purpose.

Honestly, this might have been on you. You were just trying to find the nearest bathroom—which you did, technically—only to walk in on someone giving a half assed haircut while some couple sucked faces in a corner.

So you escape the horror of it all, climbing the stairs and hoping for some air. It was less crowded, sure, but the chaos hasn’t fully clocked out.

Which is how you end up inside a coat closet in someone’s room, god knows who. It’s enough space for you to crouch with your juice like some defeated goblin. You let out a sigh. This night had derailed so fast, and you’re worried coming here was just a waste of time. You look down at your shoes, something red staining the toes. Sauce, probably. Hopefully.

You closed your eyes and groan into your palms.

Worst. Night. Ever.

In that moment, you hear the door creak open from outside the closet, the muffled chaos of the party bleeding through. Voices, music, someone yelling, then a distinct voice.

“—and tell the girls to stop tryna make babies in the shower. I’m just grabbing the router, be right down.”

The closet floods with an aggressive wash of neon light as the door opens.

You flinch and let out a squeak that could pass for a dying rodent. You’re not proud.

Standing there like a twist of fate in jorts is Satoru Gojo, the man of your living nightmares

Of course It’s him, because the universe just loves irony.

Your mind short-circuits. Anger, hatred, secondhand shame–pick a flavor. And what does he say?

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it?

He crouches down to your level, rummaging through a box like this is a completely normal situation.

“Just grabbing a spare Wi-Fi router. We’re about to throw on some music, get the vibes going and stuff–oh, and uh…”

Cerulean eyes flick up at you again, confused.

“Who are you?” Y

ou blink once, then twice. The rage inside you simmers into something sharp and nuclear.

“Who am I?”

Who are you?

You slowly make your way out of the closet, every motion oozing the energy of someone who's about to deliver a monologue that ends in bloodshed. Gojo steps back in turn, Wi-Fi router secured in hand like it might protect him from the fact that you’re seething. Nothing can protect him now. Not from you at least.

“I’m your lab partner. The one you've been ghosting for a week like a Victorian orphan while I slowly lost my mind trying to keep our proposal alive.”

He slowly lowers his arms, Wi-Fi router still awkwardly clutched in one hand, his barely buttoned shirt hanging like a threat to decency.

“...Oh, that is you!” He laughs out, blinking like he's even innocent. “Yeah, I recognize the sheer rage now.”

And you can't really help yourself from bringing your foot down on his with enough force to smite a lesser man.

“Ow–what the fuck?”

The router hits the floor with a sad little thud.

“Thirteen messages, Gojo Satoru. Thirteen. On Canvas. And that’s not counting what I sent through email. What–throwing ragers is well within your ability but checking your mail is where you draw the line? I’ve seen lab rats with better communication skills! Your reputation doesn’t precede you in the slightest because everyone is making you up to be some God on earth but really you’re just a–”

The door wings open.

“Hey has anyone seen Y/N I’m worr– oh hey.” It’s Shoko. She’s got someone else's jacket on and some glow bands with a look that says she’s seen things. What the hell?

“Oh nice, you found him already.”

She picks up the router from the floor like she’s collecting evidence from a crime scene.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna kill him, do it after I fix the internet. Some of us are trying to pirate lecture slides.”

Gojo is still doubled over, massaging his foot in the hopes of easing the pain. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Christmas tree outfit.” Shoko replied. “You look… worse for wear. What happened here anyway?”

“Can we please focus on the point at hand?” You exclaim, looking down at him like he's a particularly disappointing pebble. “This is about the fact that I nearly suffered a stress-induced aneurysm all because you vanished into the void.”

Gojo squints at you like you’re the one being dramatic.

“No way. I swear It’s only been, like, three days. Max.”

“It’s been eight.”

“…Ok, but is this the right time to mention I forgot my Canvas password?”

You exhale through your nose like a dragon holding back fire.

Gojo holds his hands up in defeat like that’ll somehow help.

“Woah woah. Let’s not go full flamethrower yet. At least let me get everyone out of the house before you 1v1 me.”

He looks almost impressed by your visible fury, which only makes you feel worse. He’s not even pretending to look like he’s got a bit of remorse.

Meanwhile, you’re the seemingly pathetic and tragic heroine who desperately crashed a frat party to seek vengeance. Honestly, in hindsight, maybe that’s the real crime here: being this desperate. This is the kind of moment you swore you'd age out of by nineteen.

You sigh, taste the humiliation at the back of your throat like bad tequila. “Shoko, I’m gonna need a drink.”

You didn't plan on drinking tonight. You told yourself you'd be composed, that you'd wear your dignity like a vice, something he’d catch the scent of and realize, oh no, this woman is not to be messed with.

But dignity left you the second he smiled at you will all 32 of his symmetrical, orthodontically divine teeth like you were the punchline to a joke. You want to throw something at his face. Preferably a blender.

“I got you.” Shoko says, already reaching behind the jungle of suspicious bottles on the folding table. “Devil of choice?”

“The worst you currently have.” You mutter, resigned to your fate. Because if you’re going down, you might as well go loud, bitter, and slightly poisoned.

---

You’re on your third “worst thing Shoko could find” and it’s working. Your brain feels like it’s swimming in carbon. The kitchen hums with muffled bass and from the other room, people are yelling and laughing and talking about something you probably don’t want to get involved in if you were one glass more sober.

You’re alone now, again. Shoko vanished minutes ago with the words “Be right back” and the confidence of the person who never is.

You stare down at your shoes, crusted with sticky jungle juice and shame. What am I even doing here?

“Yo, I’ll trade ya.” The voice is unmistakable, but just in case you were hoping to hallucinate someone else, a pair of Crocs steps into view. Bright blue. Jibbitz. You don’t even look up. You don’t need to. You already know it's him.

You do look up though. Unfortunately.

“No need.” You say, deadpan. “I think your crocs are fugly.” Fugly, like his whole relationship with punctuality.

“And you’re so pretty.”

Is what you think you hear him say. Your brain does a triple backflip. You don't know if it's from your mystery drink or the fact that Satoru called you pretty.

“... You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you. “Huh? I said you’re so petty.”

Oh.

You’re stupid, you deduced. You have been publicly and comically humbled.

You nod solemnly. “Right, sorry. Heads spinnin’” You wish the earth could swallow you whole, and if not the earth, then maybe a nearby trash can.

You take another sip from your cup. The alcohol is kicking in. Or maybe it already kicked in and did a lap around the block, but you hadn't noticed.

Really, you hadn’t. Not until Satoru comes up to you offering you his crocs like the town jester, but all you can think about is what his reaction would be if you just got up and licked the alcohol smeared on his neck.

Nope. You’re gone. Your brain has officially packed it up. Sober you would never commit such an atrocity. Sober you was reeling just an hour ago, for God's sake. Righteous, indignant, full of moral high ground. Sober you had opinions about the way he lived in this lifestyle brand chaos.

“But hey.” he shrugs, ever so casually. “That works too.”

And he looks down at you–eyes heavy, hazy, like the worlds a little softer at the edges now. His grin pulls lazily at the corners of his mouth, slow and unbothered, like it just showed up on its own. Of course it did.

Because you might be unraveling, but Satoru Gojo is somehow exactly where he wants to be.

To be honest, you were never the type to fall for the “hot frat boy with issues I can fix!!” propaganda. You’ve seen that movie before. You’ve laughed at that girl. Gojo Satoru, whether you think It’s fair or not, despite being a human migraine, is nonetheless a campus superstar. You never bothered to wonder why though.

But now, half-drunk, cheeks warm, impulse control slipping and admittedly so, you kind of get it.

He’s, like, dumb-hot. As much as you'd like to pretend otherwise, the thought of dragging that smug grin off his face has crossed your mind more than once tonight–preferably with your mouth.

It’s probably the tequila. Or maybe it's the way he’s watching you, head tilted, smile lazy, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking and dares you to think it louder. Either way, the night is starting to blur, and you’re a move away from doing something incredibly stupid.

Which, by your current standards, would be par for the night.

He’s tall, annoyingly so. Too irritating. Built like every bad idea you've avoided up until now. But God, if he doesn’t wear it well.

So you should throw your drink in his face.

You should probably turn around.

You should say literally anything else.

But you’re tipsy, which is a generous way of saying your inhibitions are melting fast. So it gives you a justifiable excuse to lean in, close enough that he has to tilt his head lower to catch you words.

“Satoru,” you say, barely above a whisper, syrup-slick and slurred just right. “Won’t you take me somewhere else? It’s your fault I’m here anyway.”

You finally say his name, and that kinda gets him.

His smirk falters–not gone, just falters. You tilt your head slightly, eyes wide and glassy, feigning innocence you absolutely do not possess currently His breath hitches just a little bit.

So he leads you by the waist, and the two of you tumble into the hallway, then onto the stairs–all hot hands and held breaths like tonight was always going to end this way.

Because for all your grumbling and glares, and for the very real fact that you stormed his party with the sole intent of confronting him about the grade you swear is about to nosedive into hell –

You’re only human. And He’s only Satoru.

And Satoru’s hands? Unfair.

---

You’re not sure who breaks first. Not that it matters now, because both of you end up fumbling your way up the stairs anyway, drunk on the lack of oxygen and gravity drawing you close with every unsteady step. Your knees falter more than once, and your body nearly betrays you. But Satoru’s hands are firm as he pulls you back up every time.

Careful, he said. But nothing about this is careful.

And speaking of Satoru’s hands—those traitorous hands—they’re everywhere. Calloused and unrelenting. They drag over your waist, your sides, up to your ribs, like he’s trying to mold you into something different, something feral if he doesn’t stop. He kicks the door shut behind you like it personally offended him.

He looks strangely tender in the dimness—gaze looking down at you with the desperation that wasn’t there moments ago, like you’re grounding him to the earth. His touch is heat and hesitation, compelled by something that lives under his skin. There’s urgency in the way his fingers shake and how his breath stutters when he dips down, mouth ghosting over your skin. Hot, aching, reverent.

He kisses you because he’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to do it again when you’re out of a daze.

Because what you don't know about Satoru Gojo is that he doesn’t make moves unless he’s thought ten steps ahead. For all that his reputation precedes him to be, he moves with intent, because Satoru Gojo knows the game, and he plays it better than most. Everything he does is a means to an end.

He knows you’re not the type to lose your head over a guy like him. He clocked that the moment he saw you. Type A, emotional steel, head in the playing field, looks like you alphabetize your refrigerator magnets, and obviously very pretty. A woman of standards. He couldn’t just dive in, because he knows you’re the type to see through any and all forms of bullshit, but wouldn’t know what to do with sincerity. And Satoru, well, he’s both.

So when he saw your name next to his on that partner list, he didn’t just chalk it up to coincidence. He took it as a quiet nudge from whatever cosmic joke keeps letting him get away with things. Sure, he ghosted you. Dodged you like a sport. Pretended he didn’t notice you walked into the house with your jaw clenched and that specific brand of fury he always thought looked good on you. But that was calculated. The fire, he didn’t even see at first. He found you crash-landed into his territory, obviously looking very pissed, but for most of it you looked quite breathtaking.

In a way that made him pause mid-laugh, mid-sentence, whatever joke he was telling dies quietly in his throat, like it recognizes that you’re here now. Because here you were, finally within reach. And whether or not you were here to drag him by the ear or commit a felony on his kneecaps, you came. Windblown, flushed from the walk, glittering with sweat.

And Satoru always plays the long game–bet on time, stall the play, smile like he hasn't stacked the deck. Even if it starts with dodging emails and ends with you pressed against his door, he never plays his hand unless he's sure he’ll win.

But from where he stands, watching you half-tipsy, wholly furious, and still somehow the prettiest thing he’d seen, Satoru knows a checkmate when he sees one. And losing to you? It feels almost kind.

All he can really say is that his plan had worked like a charm.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say in between heavy breaths as he pulls away. His glasses are gone, thrown somewhere on the floow, and with them, the last of his boyish charm. What's left are his eyes, blue and startlingly clear, pinning you into place like gravity catching up.

“Fair. It’d suck if you weren’t.” he says, voice low and amused, the kind of drawl that makes your spine react before your brain does. You’re still clinging to your little grudge like it might protect you, even as your clothes are sticking to your skin and his saliva on your neck. His mouth has already trespassed places you shouldn’t be letting him reach.

“Go ahead, sweet thing,” he murmurs, thumb tracing a line down your stomach and fingers lingering on the hem of your top. “Blame it all on me. I can take it, ‘specially when it gets me this.” And his mouth is on you again, this time more deliberate. He presses a kiss just beneath your jaw, then drags his tongue slowly behind your ear before trailing down your neck. His hands move with more conviction now. One is firm on the small of your back, the other splayed against your front like a silent plea not to run. His palms are hot to the touch, and you’re embarrassed by how easily your body bends toward the heat.

Then he presses lower, fingers skimming over your stomach. A sound escapes you—shaky and far too telling. It’s a sound you don't recognize coming from your own throat. Satoru hears it, and his grin is nothing short of sinful. He pulls back from your collarbone and drags his eyes over your face like he's trying to commit this moment into his memory. You, meanwhile, are doing everything in your power to look at anywhere but him. But Satoru is a persistent man. His hand glides higher beneath your shirt, warm and maddening, pausing just beneath your breast. He angles your back just slightly, tilting your chin so your eyes are forced to meet his. And God–you look absolutely wrecked. Lips parted and hair a tousled halo on your face, eyes wide and dazed.

“You’re real scary when you’re mad. Real pretty too. Wanna keep smiting me while I touch you?” His voice is low, half-drunken laughter laced through the rasp. His hands, warm and soft, tighten on your hips. All you manage in return is a breathy hum–one thats equal parts doubt and invitation.

“Satoru,” you say it like a warning. “Could you maybe stop stalling and just–oh.” Your back arches against the door, all breath and anticipation as his hands find their way under your bra, hungry for touch. He cups on your left breast as his palms lay flat on your nipples, and you feel him in your bones, underneath all the skin and fat. They aren't gentle anymore, but decisive, fingertips drawing heat in their wake. And he's close now–too close. You can see it all, the smugness painting his grin like a badge of honor and the flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes every time your breath stutters.

Outside, the party rages on, and lights flash through the cracks of the door. But in this moment, the world has narrowed to two people and the static between them. His other hand lingers low on your back. You’re practically burning, skin pricking and pulse frantic under his palms. And even though you’re still fuming, still half-determined to wring his neck, there's no denying the way your eyes catch on the lines of him, the way he fills out his clothes, the subtle grind of his hips that betrays how much he wants this. Suddenly, all your anger doesn’t feel quite as important as the heat curling up your spine and the area just below it.

He guides you away from the door, his touch rough with urgency, until you bump against his desk. In a sweeping motion, books and half-written notes scatter to the floor. His hands find your waist and lift you onto the cleared surface like you weigh nothing. Then his mouth is on yours again–hot, insistent, claiming. His tongue grazes the outline of your lips, and when you gasp, he takes the sound for himself. You frantically hold onto his shoulders like a lifeline, because the room is spinning just a bit too fast.

Your thighs are glued together, tension and stickiness coiled tight between them. He had sensed as much, and one of his hands slid lower, thumb brushing against your leg with maddening patience, coaxing you to open up. And he does it slow, a little too slow, and the deliberate teasing pulls a drawled breath out of you. Something you couldn't mask even if you tried.

“You sure you’re mad at me? ‘Cause the way you’re lookin’ at me doesn’t exactly scream righteous fury.” His fingers find the button that keeps your shorts closed. He presses and pulls, playing so close to where you need him.

“Don’t–mmh, think for even a second that you got away with it, jerk.” You breathe the words out between clenched teeth, voice tight like you’re holding back more than just irritation. And really, that might be what he likes about you. You drip with pointed fury, sharp-tongued and undressed meanness. But your hands are still on his chest, and your legs are pulling him closer like he's the force of gravity, magnetic in the most inconvenient way.

“And you said ‘one drink’.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, tugging slowly and deliberately, testing just how far you'll let him go at this state. He glances up through his lashes, that boyish grin curling back into his lips. “Doesn’t look like one drink to me.” Then, voice low and sultry, “Why don't you be sweet and take these off f’me, yeah?”

You fake a sound of frustration as you make quick work of the button on your shorts, because really the only kind of frustration pulsing through you right now is the sexual kind building below your navel. It’s been a minute since you've done this, caught up between uni deadlines and org meetings. Not to mention the tiny biological betrayal that is your ovulation cycle currently screaming mate, mate, mate like a ritual. So basically, your hormones are just in overdrive. Biology’s doing it's thing, and apparently, it's thing is making you wildly receptive to white hair and jagged hands.

“Fuck—get this off of me—“ You’re practically fighting for your life with the zipper now, hands fumbling like you’re in a timed bomb-defusal. Damn these Levi’s. Built tough for all the wrong moments.

“Hey now—woah, chill woman.” Satoru sweats your hands away and unzips it himself. “Impatient? You’re the one who said to take you somewhere else, remember?”

“Yeah, not code for ‘drag me into your lair,’ Satoru.”

“But I don’t hear any protests.”he murmurs, lifting you up from the desk with ease. His fingers pull on the edge of your shorts and drags them down slowly. When his eyes catch the deep red patterned lace and fabric hugging your core, he breathes out a quiet curse—low and full of want. You feel the dampness that leaks from your cunt before you even realize it. Satoru’s hands, ever greedy, hook a finger beneath your waistband, tugging just enough to tease before letting it snap back against your skin with a loud smack. The sound is crisp, and that earns you a sharp gasp.

“Stop–”

But Satoru obviously doesn’t. He’s too drunk on the fact that you’re perched on his desk in nothing but your panties and a shirt he’s got his hand chartering under. He feels sixteen again, all overzealous hands and dizzy want—except this time, he knows exactly what he’s doing and how much he wants it. It’s a little terrifying how easy it is to forget the rest of the world when your skin’s under his.

“Nuh uh,” Satoru hums against the shell of your ear, breath hot and unhurried. One hand is beneath the back of your shirt, fingers fiddling with the clasp of your bra. And the other trails down, slow and sure, toward the growing heat between your legs.

“Is this the part where I finally find out what all the fuss is about?” His grin is unmistakable, even when you can't see it. Your breath hitches in reply, because God forbid the man actually knows what he’s doing.

By now, his fingers slip between the folds of your clit, spreading the wetness that oozes out, up and down and sideways. He moves with a kind of confidence that borders on infuriating, a deliberate rhythm that sends heat rushing up your spine. You can't do much except buckle and moan and take it. Your arms tighten around his neck like a lifeline, anchoring yourself to something–anything–before you completely unravel.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Cunt’s swimming in your juice by now.”

And when you’re trying so hard to catch a breath, Satoru starts to slide a finger inside, so deep and so slow it’s killing you. A moan escapes you–long, unrestrained, and embarrassing if you still cared about your dignity. Your fingers claw at the fabric of his dress shirt, wrinkling it beyond redemption. Dry cleaning won’t save him now.

“Sato—ru, shit hold on—“ You shut your eyes tight and mentally send an apology to the walls for whatever ungodly noises you might be making. Your body’s burning, your pride is in shambles, and Satoru’s finger–just the one, because apparently that's all it takes–is sending you into ruin.

“Did you know the G-Spot might not even be real.” he says, like he's about to give a Ted Talk in the middle of your rapidly crumbling composure. You blink, scandalized, breath catching. What kind of nonsense is this man pulling? He’s not even a bio major, and the fact that he's still pumping a finger into you makes your brain short-circuit once again.

“I mean, it’s not a single spot. More like a whole hormone-dependent area.” You barely have time to scoff at his use of terminology at a time like this before a second finger is being inserted into you, deeper and more demanding.

“It’s influenced by multiple glands, like your clit,” You nearly jump when his thumb grazes on your sensitive bud just above your entrance, more slick squirting out of you like a reflex.

“Your urethra,” He continues with infuriating smugness, a squelching sound echoing into the stuffy room as he shoves a third finger deep inside. Your body is betraying you completely as your body jerks, and you grip the edge of the desk like its going to do anything at all.

“ –aaand, your vagina.” He pumps again, this time slow and languid like he's got all the time in the world to make a mess out of you, and you’re trying your best to hold on to some scrap of composure. But trying feels more like a long-lost concept now with the way you’re giving up on yourself and the maddening pull that is him.

“Some females get massive pleasure when the area is stimulated, while others don’t. Pretty unfair huh?” You think what's really unfair about all this is how he's got you shaking and helpless on his desk with four fingers moving inside of you, all while still being fully clothed.

But oh, you like it. Against your better judgement, your body's basically on fire, your skin flushed and your breath humid. And Satoru’s gaze on you is too much and not enough all at once. There's something entirely degrading about being stared down like this while your brain is malfunctioning from sensory overload. But instead of telling him off like a reasonable human being, you're mentally weighing your options: either push him away, or cum on all four of his fingers tonight. Honestly, it’s a tough call.

“But I’m sure I’ll be able to find it in you.” And then, one last deep thrust that rips a squeak straight from your throat. Your fingers dig into his back just below his neck, leaving half-moon bruises as you scramble to sit upright. You’re so dangerously close to an orgasm as a fire curls deep in your gut, and your hips are betraying every ounce of moral high ground you had left as they grind down, frantic and desperate.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, your lungs finally remember how to function again. You’re panting, trying to collect the dignity you may have dropped somewhere between finger 3 and wherever you are now. When you look up, Satoru is already looking directly at you as he brings his fingers–those fingers–up to his mouth and sucks them clean, any residue of slick being lapped on like a man starving.

“S’ good,” he hums low, almost like he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He slips his fingers from his mouth with a dramatic pop, and in one smooth motion, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Your arms are guided above your head as he tugs your shirt over and off. You’re left in nothing but your unclasped bra, breathing hard under the dim light. His gaze roams over you, almost glowing, like he’s seen something divine. His palms skate every inch of exposed skin, until your bra is off and his mouth latches onto your chest with maddening softness.

Despite Satoru Gojo’s infuriating nature, the position he’s got you in is making a pretty compelling argument otherwise. He's got his hands on your thighs as they keep you spread just enough, and his tongue—god, his tongue—is tracing circles around the nubs of your breasts. That's not right, you think. This is literally not how it was supposed to go. You were here for confrontation. Instead you’re almost naked, halfway to forgetting your own name. The worst part is that you’re not stopping him.

“Mmh, do you want the desk or the bed?”

“Huh? For–ah, for what?”

“Well, to fiddle, to yiddle, to–”

“If you say anything that rhymes with ‘diddle’ I’m leaving you and your boner to figure yourselves out.”

“Touché. But really, it's your move. Want me on my knees? Over you?” There’s a pause. Then, voice low and dipped in something shameless and needy, “.. Want me to fuck you? I’m nothing if not obedient.”

Your breath catches. “ –Mmh.”

He raises a brow and leans in. “Use your words. Ain’t doing so if you’re not sayin’ so.”

“Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

You look him dead in the eyes, heat cooking in your stomach. As you bite down on your last thread of pride and composure, you lean in too.

“You’ve got two options. Either you fuck me, or I remember how you ditched me and punch you in the throat. I’m not even joking.”

Satoru’s brain bluescreens. There’s a second of total silence in his skull, like all higher thought had just left. Even now with her breath hitching and nails dragging down my back, she’s still got the strength to bite back. God, she's hot.

“Yeah.” He says, though it’s more of a breath than a voice. “I can—yeah, I can do that.” I mean you basically hadn't given him much to choose, right?

In a tangle of limbs, Satoru scoops you up from his desk and lowers you less-than-gracefully onto the edge of his bed. The bounce makes you glare at him, and he has the nerve to grin while the world feels like It’s spinning–half from the drinks, half from him. And then he's kissing you again like he's got something to prove to you. His tongue coaxes and laps into your mouth with the kind of cocky finesse that tells you he knows exactly how you like it. You don't know whether to moan or roll your eyes, so you do both.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, fabric damp from sweat and spilled liquor. “Off.”

He pulls away from you with that knowing grin–ever the showman–and quickly undoes the rest of his shirt with ease, shoving it off from his shoulders in one smooth motion. The sight knocks the breath clean out your lungs. As he tosses the shirt across the room, you're met with a sight that genuinely shouldn't be allowed in a poorly lit college bedroom.

What the hell?

You know Satoru is athletic. That much you were able to deduce from first glance. Honestly, you don't know what you expected. Maybe something lean and careless to match the smugness he carries around like a boy scout badge. But what's in front of you is, well, frankly absurd. Because apparently, under the embodiment of all that you loathe is the Greek pantheon’s lost son. His chest is all hard angles and sculpted tension, the muscles in his body flex with even the smallest movement, and his arms are laced with veins that trace down into the hands that have felt you all over by now.

Your brain fizzles.

You cross your legs in pure instinct. Survival, really. Because it’s the only way you can hide the wetness and arousal flowing through you at the moment.

“You good?”

You blink once. Twice. Unfortunately, the image of Roman god Gojo is still engraved in your brain.

Satoru grins and rolls his shoulders with theatrical ease. “The gym’s two blocks from the house. Figured I might as well make use of the short commute, y’know?”

“Wasn’t asking.” You were so close, though.

“You sure? Ya look like you got a thesis brewing about my abs.”

You hold his gaze, even when your legs are practically jelly beneath him. “Pretty bold for someone who unironically wears Crocs.”

You sense his grin as he leans in close, mouth barely brushing your ear. “Don’t knock the Crocs, sweetheart. They come off easy.”

His tongue lingers on the base of your ear, warm and unrelenting, his breath against you sending shivers down your skin. You can barely register the drag of his lips down your neck, then further down to your chest in a slow and agonizing pace. He sucks on the nub of your breast once more, a hand coming up to squeeze the other. You’re practically laid bare, clothes having been a long-forgotten concept for the last 15 minutes. You feel his cock growing a tent in his pants as they grind on your thigh, rubbing just beneath your bare and drooling cunt.

He goes lower still, tongue tracing your stomach in slow motions as his knees come down to a kneel on the edge of the bed. You wanna scream, or cry, or do something, because as Satoru’s breath touches your pussy you feel like nothing more than an animal in a rut.

“Hey, you wouldn’t mind right?” He asks as he nudges your thighs further apart, face coming close to your core as he pauses in front of it.

You can’t comprehend how to talk at this point, so your tug on his hair is all he needs to know.

He licks a long and slow stripe up your cunt, and your back arches off the bed once again as you let out a high pitched squeal. Satoru’s got both hands rubbing up and down the insides of your thighs as you squirm beneath his touch.

“Satoru—slow down, fuck,“

His tongue traces shapes around the lips of your pussy, teasing and merciless, and nudges it way inside your entrance. You gasp, loud and very embarrassingly, and the grip you have on his hair is iron as you clamp your thighs around his head like you’re trying to crush the thoughts out of his skull. His mouth keeps going, moving in and out and lapping around your clit as more slick squirts out of you.

“Pussy’s drippin’ so much. You taste so good.” The vibrations you feel as he talks against you nearly knock the breath out of you. “I can stay on my knees all night, pretty.”

“No—fuck, no,”

“No?”

“M’gonna cum, ah—get off—!”

“You can cum on me yeah? Fuck yourself on me baby, c’mon.” He spreads your legs wider as his pace quickens. You bite down another embarrassing sound that threatens to stool from your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, needing something—anything—to keep you grounded. Still, he doesn’t rush. He takes his time coaxing reactions out of you like he’s memorizing each little one. Every graze on your entrance, every flick of his tongue, and every drawn out second makes it seem like he’s trying to compose a symphony from the sounds you’re making.

You feel your orgasm building, so slow and overwhelming. It comes in waves, each one pulling you further under as your pussy grinds on his mouth without rhythm. Your hands are in his hair, your fingers trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

“Ngh—cumming, I’m cumming, oh,”

The orgasm hits you like a bullet train, hard and fast. Your eyes roll so far back and your breath catches in your throat. Every nerve is pulled taut and then undone in a single rush of pleasure. You feel him licking the laps of cum coming out of you as if he’s determined to take you further. He doesn’t really have to because you think you’re already free falling.

Satoru’s hands grip at your waist and push you more far up the bed, placing a pillow beneath your head. You hear his belt unbuckle frantically, his bottoms thrown somewhere across the room. You’re still trying to recover from your high as Satoru comes into view from above you.

“Hey. So like, I don’t have a condom with me.”

“…You serious?”

“Yeah. The boys in the house usually just ask Suguru. He’s got a stash up in his room.”

“Fuck. Ok, whatever. I’m on birth control. Shout out planned parenthood. Please just fuck me.”

“You sure? I can go outside and ask—“

“And have you flash the entire hallway? You’re on your own.”

Satoru’s fingers glide through the slick heat of your cunt, slow and deliberate, gathering your juices into his hands as he uses it to slick his cock. Your core flutters at the sight.

“M’gonna fuck you now.” he says, a promise.

You feel the thick length of him slap lazily against your cunt the sound sticky and obscene in the sudden quiet of the room. He does it a few times like he’s testing the waters–teasing both of you with the inevitability of what's about to happen.

Then the tip presses in, and you gasp, sharp and involuntary. He’s wide. Ridiculously wide. It feels less like being split open and more like being claimed, inch by slow inch.

Satoru watches himself disappear inside you with something like awe, one hand steadying your hip the other tracing idle circles into your skin.

“Tight,” He breathes. “Fuck.”

You clench and gasp and twist around him, but Satoru is still and unrelenting. He sinks in until he bottoms out, the stretch overwhelming, the pressure toeing the edge of too much. You think you might actually come just from the way he fills you, and you around him.

“You ok?” He asks, voice low and uncharacteristically gentle.

You shake your head, dizzy and dazed. The truth is you aren’t. Not when he leans over you and holds the back of your head through it, lips ghosting along your ear to tell you just how well you’re taking him.

It takes exactly two rolls of his hips for your world to crack open. Your back arches off the mattress. Your arms shoot up to cling to him, bracing around his neck as if it'll hold you together. Your body tightens, shudders, and then snaps under the force of it. It’s too much. Too intense. Too good. He’s too good.

“Holy fuck, stop–hah, stop squeezin’ me like that.” His voice breaks around the words, ruined and ragged. One of his hands flies to your thigh, squeezing hard enough that it borders on a warning. “Gonna come if you do.”

But you’re too far gone, too full of him, too strung out on the edges of pleasure to care. You take him to the hilt again, gasping as the drag of his cock makes your nerves stutter and spark.

And then he starts to move. Faster this time. Deeper. You’re so open for him now, wide and wanting, and each thrust feels like a slow unraveling. It’s not just the way you both fill each other. It’s the way your skin burns wherever it touches his. Yours is a pleasure that curls inwards, soft and greedy, clinging to everything he gives. And he gives so much.

“Hold on, this might be the one.” Satoru grins down at you, cocky even with his breath hitching, sweat starting to sheen his collarbones. You barely manage to roll your eyes before he’s back on his knees, still buried inside of you, and grabbing for your leg. Your body shifts easily in his hands, plant and pliable, tuned to the rhythm of his restlessness. He lifts your leg, turning your hips slightly to the side, and rests your knee over his shoulder. The stretch makes your breath catch.

He thrusts. Brutal. Deep. You cry out.

The new angle sends him dragging right along something cataclysmic inside you, hot and electric and peak, and it punches the sound straight from your throat. His pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with a precision that feels almost vicious if it weren’t so intoxicating.

Your fingers scramble for purchase–on the sheets, on him–anything.

Satoru leans forward, folding you further, and the movement sinks him even deeper. You can feel the tremble and urgency in his thighs. “Fuck–there,” he breathes, watching your face contort. “There it is. That’s the spot, huh?”

Your hands twist into the sheets, back arching and mouth open as you flinch and spasm with every thrust. He’s giving it to you like it's the only thing he knows how to do, and you just want to watch him lose himself in you. You want to be everywhere he is, where the heat spreads between your bodies and your breaths meet halfway.

It’s so frustrating how good he's making you feel while still managing to be this damn cocky. But It’s hard to dwell on that for long when his cock is pressing deep and pulling you under.

His cock slams into your spot again and again, his grip on your leg unrelenting. Moans turn to cries, and cries turn to screams as he drives into you. You can only pray the music outside is doing its job. You’re never going to hear the end of it once Shoko finds out.

Looking down at you now, Satoru thinks you look exactly the way you did the first time he saw you–like the breath he forgot to take when he spotted you from across a lecture hall, a glitch in the system, while Suguru was mid-sentence about something he still can't recall. Suguru had asked him if he was ok. Satoru wasn’t. He realized he would never be ok for as long as you were in his line of vision. And now that you’re here, in his room, skin against his sheets, real and close and everything he’s ever quietly thought about, he hopes–maybe prays–that you'll look up and see him for the sincerity in his eyes. That you'll notice the shiver in his bones whenever you say his name. That when he touches you, you'll hold onto him to stay tethered into the earth. Because Satoru Gojo, for all his pride, all the bravado, and all the noise he throws into the world just to stay upright, thinks he’s only ever been sure of a few things.

Satoru can only name a few true constants in the universe–light in a vacuum, the charge of an electron, and the way he feels when you call for him with each pang of pleasure he gives you.

His thrusts are deep and relentless, the rhythm hard and sure, and you feel it–heat curling low in your stomach, the pressure building fast enough to burst.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, breath catching between moans.

“Yeah?” Satoru’s voice is low and coaxing. “You can cum. Go ahead, make yourself feel good.”

Ito only takes a few more thrusts to tip you over the edge. Your back arches, fingers clawing into his shoulder blades as your orgasm crashes through you. For a second, your vision blanks out, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in surging pulses. It hits hard, a rush so consuming you forget how to breathe. All you know is the feeling of your release, so undone, so alive.

You reach the edge of oversensitivity as Satoru’s thrusts turn sloppy and uneven, chasing his own release. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, squeaking at the way every brush against your clit sends shocks. A few more desperate ruts and he’s coming too, grunting, pulling out just in time as hot release splashes across your stomach and chest. His fingers dig into your thigh, anchoring himself as his body trembles through aftershocks.

For a moment, it’s just the sound of your breathing, ragged and shared. Then he drops beside you, collapsing into the pillows with a soft flump, chest still rising and falling fast. You turn to face him, jabbing his shoulder. “Hey,” you mutter. “You seriously knocked out after having your dick inside me?”

Satoru isn’t. Wouldn't. He’s wide awake, because nothing hits harder than post-nut clarity. And right now, that clarity is brutally mortifying. For the first time in recorded history, the universe is witnessing Satoru Gojo in a state of nervousness. Because, believe it or not, he may have just launched his crush into the astral plane with his dick immediately after she stormed into his place all hot and bothered and ready to confront him, and after exactly one real conversation. That has got to be some Olympic level idiocy for a man of his supposed intelligence. Frankly, he's hoping the pillow takes him out quietly before his shame does.

“I’ll leave,” you say, barely above a whisper. “If that's what's happening here.”

“Stay.” He says almost immediately.

“Why?”

“You make me nervous.” So nervous.

Your brow lifts. “Me?”

“You.” He turns to lay on his back and exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“I don't think I can joke my way out of how I feel around you. Not right now, at least.”

You snort softly. “Satoru, you're making no sense right now.”

“I saw your messages. Read the emails. Those very threatening emails. My personal favorite was the one that said ‘Rot in hell, coward.’” A faint smile flickers on his lips, and he laughs under his breath. “Read them twice. I thought if I waited long enough, you'd come kick my door down.”

And you did, so to speak. Not because you owed him the drama of a grand reappearance–no. Because you, like gravity, are unavoidable. And gravity is never a force. It's the fast curvature of spacetime around mass. And he thinks that's what this is. You curve every law around you, and he’s spent every moment since trying not to collapse under the weight of wanting you.

You can only blink. “You ghosted me… on purpose?”

“I know it's dumb.” He’s quick to add. “But I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me. I mean, you're–” He gestures at you, vaguely, helplessly. “You. And I’m the clown who got banned from a study group for making too many pickup lines about the ‘interconnectedness’ of quantum entanglement. What was I supposed to do, write you a poem?”

A beat. “So maybe I got a little desperate.”

“You thought ignoring me would make me like you?”

“I was hoping it would at least make you notice me.”

For the first time since meeting this man, there's nothing flippant behind those eyes–no smug grin, no teasing deflection, no clever quip waiting to be tossed out there. And you’re not sure what to do with that. With him, like this. You never thought sincerity looked good in a man, not until this particular one who's all fidgety and silent, too restless to even look at you, like it might shake something loose. Maybe being seen does that to people.

The room smells like his cologne and something else entirely. Something sleepier. Lived-in. There’s still warmth in the sheets where you both had been, your knees brushing under the covers. He hasn't said much. That’s part of what makes it real.

Maybe it's not so much of a gamble–being kind first. Maybe the trick is letting someone be kind back.

You sit up slightly, adjusting your hair but really, you're just giving yourself something to do before you say it.

“Tell you what.”

His eyes flick over you instantly. You pause. Then, as casually as you can,

“I’ll go on one date with you if you help me study for my Stats exam tomorrow.”

There’s a beat. You can almost hear the gears in his brain grinding.

“Seriously? Oh–crap, wait–”

You turn to him and suppress a very wide grin. “If I ace it,” you clarify. “Then you get one date. One.”

“Okay.” he blurts. “Yeah. Yes. Statistics. I love… numbers. Seriously.”

When you squint to see his face, his ears have gone red. He starts to sit up, immediately tangling in the sheets.

“Crap–sorry, just–okay. Got it. I can totally help. The dates cool too. I mean, not cooler than–uh, nevermind.”

You glance down at the bed, then back up at him. “Confidence already shaken, Gojo?”

His mouth twitches. “Only ‘cause you’re lookin’ at me like that.”

You tilt your head. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to figure me out.”

And maybe you will.

“Good. Then we'll both be learning something tonight.”

He bumps into the nightstand, nods too much, and his voice cracks a little halfway through the word date. He pulls himself out of your periphery as if he’s trying to outrun the fact that he’s blushing. And as he walks around the room, shirt half-on and hair even messier, muttering about how “I actually kind of rock Stats” like he needs to prove he’s worthy of the deal, you watch him from where you are, sheets pulled over your chest, trying to smother the grin threatening to give you away.

Because while you’ve absolutely heard quite a few things about Satoru Gojo, the all-rounder legend in a backwards cap, golden boy of the STEM department, six-foot something campus heartthrob who burns too bright to stay, what the rumors failed to mention is the quiet way he curves into himself as he stands across from you, suddenly unsure, like he’s not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream he'll have to wake from.

And you were right: sincerity looks terrible on most men.

But on him, it’s devastating.

a/n: there's something weirdly romantic about quantum entanglement that I just had to put in here :> he’s such a loser god

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Lucifer x Aspec!Reader

This drabble for my fellow aspecs <3

Lucifer is the most loving man someone could ask for, he's pretty much the perfect boyfriend in all the ways that matter most

He spends every minute he can with you, encourages you, protects you, loves you with everything he has

You had yet to explore the intimate side of your relationship with him; and that terrified you

Would he be upset? Angry? Leave you just like that because you can't satisfy him sexually?

When your kisses became more heated one night, you froze, tears threatening to fall down your flushed cheeks

"Oh! Honey, what's the matter? What's wrong? Lucifer asked, cupping your face, worry plastered on his own.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, "I'm so sorry, I-I can't...I don't know...fuck, I'm sorry..."

"Hey, hey, hey," he cooed, "it's alright. You're okay. Are you hurt? Did something happen? Tell me what's wrong."

You couldn't hold back the tears anymore, doing your best not to cry out. You held it in as best you could

You knew how to do that all too well

"I'm going to disappoint you," you stammered through your cries. "You don't want me, Lucifer."

Lucifer looked at you stunned at your words. His eyebrows fell, he looked at you with such concern. "Of course I want you. Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"I feel broken," you admitted. "I'm not...I don't think I can give you everything you want..."

Lucifer sat there letting you explain, his expression still displayed one of hurt. Not for himself, but for you.

"I should have told you sooner, it would have saved us both the trouble. I didn't want to hurt you..."

"Tell me what, love," he pleaded, "why do you feel like this?"

"I don't know if I can ever be truly intimate with you..." the words poured from your lips like water breaking free from a dam. "I know most people need that in a relationship to work. But...I don't know if I can give that to you. It's not that I don't want to, I just...I can't bring myself to go that far...Lucifer, I'm sorry..."

Lucifer quickly wrapped you in a tight embrace, burying his face in your neck. "I need you to understand something," he spoke softly. "You're everything I want. You always will be. I don't care what you can or can't give me. That's not why I love you."

The waterworks continued as you clung to him. You continued to apologize over and over for who you were.

He was having none of it

"Sweetie, you don't need to apologize." He kissed the side of your head tenderly. "I don't need sex. Hell, angels weren't even created to be intimate! That's a human thing! Even some humans don't have that drive!" He laughed softly to try and lighten the mood "Whatever I've done in the past, it wasn't for me. Sure, it feels good, but so does eating ice cream or creating rubber ducks! It's all temporary pleasure. The last thing I want is for you to think I would leave you over something like this."

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down to be able to speak properly again. "I never thought about it like that..."

Lucifer pulled away and smiled at you. "I'll love you regardless, I promise you. And if you ever change your mind, that's perfectly fine too! I'll make sure to go at your pace. But that's your decision, I'll never EVER pressure you for it."

You smiled back, wiping away the last of your tears. "Thank you, Lucifer. I'm sorry again..."

His lips met yours as he cradled your face. "No more apologies from you tonight, there was never anything to be sorry for." Lucifer shifted himself towards the head of the bed and patted the spot next to him. "I think you need some cuddle time, love. Come on up!"

You followed happily, crawling your way towards him, laying yourself across his body and laying your head against his chest.

"Thank you," you whispered as you felt yourself become sleepier by the second. "I love you."

Lucifer pressed one more kiss to the top of your head before unconsciousness took over. "I love you more."

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [10]: Euphoria

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 11.3k

ao3 curse got to me again (if it even counts). My kidneys almost got fucked by an undiagnosed UTI because a dumbass mistook the abdomen and back pain as period symptoms LMAO.

ANYWAYS, I hope you all have your date fits ready. Should be comfortable but still elegant I know, but uhhh I made Reader wear a dress but other than that, I didn't mention any details at all as usual so feel free to imagine what you want to wear. This is NOT beta read because i literally just finished this but I'll come back to it later on when my forefinger dont hurt anymore lol.

I'll add more details later on, I hate how lazy the yacht date turned out and the revelation part but mi finger yearned for rest. I hope you guys dont mind the word count, i got carried away lol.

thank you all for liking this silly fic, I appreciate you all <3. My asks are open now!

I've got something for you all next week. DONT MISS IT >:)

PRE-SAVE PTD IF YOU HAVENT YET

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Is it normal to be this excited for a date like he is?

A normal person wouldn't have stayed up all night trying to fight off the jitters of excitement sparking every crevice of his body awake yet Jungkook couldn’t count how much he had shot up from his bed to randomly recall a choreo or walk restlessly around the room; apparently Jin did, ever the light sleeper, when he left the room grumbling with RJ tucked under his arm.

If someone else were to see him pacing obsessively around the room and doing and checking everything there is to be seen, they would think of him an addict itching for a hit.

In a way, Jungkook is. Except he wasn't craving for heroin or any hard hitting drugs.

No, he wanted something more potent, a substance more addicting than anything there is. 

Love.

Love is such a dangerous substance that can overhaul a person's mind and make them do things they never thought they were capable of. 

He's seen it in movies and dramas where the leads have risked their reputation and wealth for a chance with the love of their lives, throwing away their hard-earned wealth and power in exchange for time and closeness to their lovers. He'd seen it in the news about a mother who had lifted a fallen foundation thrice her weight to save her child trapped under the rubble.

He craved love, not from his hyungs or any of his family, but from you. He had a taste of your touch last night when you had turned away from Jimin to latch onto him in your sleep and he immediately grew addicted to it. 

From the gentle caress of your breath onto the wide expanse of his throat, the warmth of your skin against his and the grounding heaviness of your thigh thrown over his hips, Jungkook found himself missing his future self who must be relishing in the privilege of having to sleep next to you.

The lucky bastard.

With a head drowning in the clouds of his imaginations of how his date will play out, he couldn't find it in himself to care for the decreasing numbers under the magnificent badge of his rank. Jungkook had shivers when he noticed the lack of fuming rage he should’ve been boiling with when he lost the fifth game in a row.

He didn't mind the chittering chimpanzees flooding the chat nor the bronze players disguised as masters with their horrendous kill to death ratio after feeding the enemy team. 

No, for the first time in his life, he was letting them get away with it.

Recalling the oddity of it all, Jungkook shivers in his seat.

Love is starting to terrify him.

He had stayed up all night with the jitters of excitement to keep him awake—something he realized was a mistake when Namjoon knocked on his door at six for breakfast. They also got soundcheck after breakfast and he’s already dreading the lightheadedness he’s about to experience.

But what is the temporary setback that is a headache and a little bit of cold chills telling him he’s about to faint in the face of a man who’s got a date with his longest crush and soulmate?

You see, he has ironed all the details since the time they had decided he’s going first.

From the chronological order of events, the fair stalls, the rides he could ride with you, and even down to the food you both could chip away at during the entire experience because god forbid his first date with you, the one he had prepared and anticipated for a long time, ended up being a tragedy.

Everyone shall rue the day all his preparations go to waste.

He has one shot to show how worthy he is of being called your soulmate. A chance to redeem himself after the bitterness he had treated you with days before his birthday. A day reserved for him and you alone where he could show you—

“Kid, that pancake hasn't done anything to guarantee that much ire, stop glaring at it.” 

Broken out of his train of jumbled thoughts, Jungkook looked up to meet Yoongi’s kind eyes as the man motioned to his food with his fork. 

Realizing the situation around him, he sinks a little into his seat, flustered by how evident his date with you is affecting him. 

He was lucky you weren't around to hear the incoming teasing he's about to receive from his hyungs. 

Having a sudden addition of two interviews to their schedule for tomorrow, you had to meet up with the styling team to discuss, assemble the new clothes and practice the new make-up for tomorrow's interviews before the concert as you were one of the only people available to be called in.

Jimin had grumbled about being left alone cold in bed, and Jungkook had to stop himself from tackling him because at least he got to cuddle with you all night; a luxury the rest of them can’t have the privilege of having just yet.

The only thing that held him and Taehyung from jumping the oldest maknae was your well-timed chat attached with an adorable picture of you showcasing the brown teddy bear in striped overalls you found in passing. You had the toy pressed to the side of your face while you wore a cute scrunched up expression. 

Never has he witnessed a speed like Yoongi and Taehyung when they changed their home screen wallpaper to your picture.

Thinking about the image now stashed with the rest of your pictures in his gallery, he smiled.

Love is turning him soft.

At least, softer than he already is with his hyungs.

God, how are you going to think of him as a man if he's like this?

“Seems like someone is a little excited for his date.” Namjoon teases with a dimpled smile.

“‘little’ is an understatement. I doubt he even slept! He was pacing so much earlier that I had to bunk with Yoongi!” Jin complained but the small quirk of his lips tells them he wasn't seriously affected by it.

Yoongi's face scrunched. “You make it sound like you really hate sleeping next to me.”

“You always sleep so stiffly and it scares me.”

“That or a snoring Namjoon?”

“...Fair enough.”

“Hey! I don’t snore that loud!” Namjoon pouts.

“I’ve got a thousand video evidence, hyung. Don’t lie, it’s bad for your health.” Jimin adds from his far left.

“You recorded me sleeping?”

“You've planned it down to the T since we all decided who goes first, you'll do great.” Hoseok chimed in through the chaos and Jungkook smiled.

“Thank you hyung.”

“He didn’t even notice me trying to get a piece of his food, it's scary…”

Hearing this, Jungkook turned to Taehyung to see the man holding a spoon with pieces of pancakes suspiciously similar to the gaping size on the side of his own tower of pancakes. Without hesitation, he snatched the utensil from him and quickly engulfed the missing portion before returning the fork.

The man blinked, stunned, mind lagging behind as the table erupted into laughter.

“Wow, look at this guy.” Taehyung said in disbelief.

“You got it from my plate, therefore it's mine.”

“I used to pay for you when we go to PC rooms with my school money, you know?”

“I know and I thank you for your sacrifice.” With a smile, he devoured the rest of his pancakes.

Jungkook hoped the dopey feeling would wear off before the soundcheck. 

If he were to perform without his head, he might make a total fool of himself to everyone. Even if it's a brief affair he has done and experienced for years, he’d hate to look like an unprofessional jerk who’s slacking off now that he’s tasted a bit of fame.

Besides, his Hobi hyung hates disharmony and carelessness on the stage. That scary man might wring him on a thread upside down on a tree even if his absentmindedness can be excused.

Despite his wishes and attempts to clear his head, Soundcheck wasn't any different. 

He practically floated around the stage, letting his Hobi hyung navigate him from point to point as he let himself be completely immersed by his own thoughts. 

Sure, he didn’t get three strikes to guarantee his head in on a silver platter for dinner but he still tripped and missed a couple of lyrics when he saw Minhyuk talking to one of the bouncers walking around the arena. 

Because Minhyuk being around means you have arrived too. But when a couple of minutes has passed without you peeking from backstage, he quickly let that hope die.

Despite his hyungs’ constant comfort and assurance since breakfast, he couldn’t help but think of how there's something he might’ve missed.

So for the nth time that day, he went over his notes. 

Again.

He went over the stores around the area through google maps and made sure they'll be available for the day. He texted the renting company, asking them to double check the engines and if the catering staff has all the ingredients prepared and ready for cooking. Then when all things were done and ironed out, he went over the list again for the last time.

To be honest, it was dumb how he's so anxious for a date in a fair. He doesn’t have to hear it from someone, he’s well aware of it.

Jungkook thought it ironic how a place created for entertainment and fun is having the opposite effect on him. Would he even have fun trying out the rides when he's twitchy from the nerves practically being emitted out of his skin like static electricity?

“Where's noona?”  

Hearing Hoseok's confusion, he looked up and did a quick survey of the area.

Distracted, he had apparently and unknowingly followed his hyungs backstage. 

“She’s outside.” Namjoon says as he tilts his head up as if he's trying to receive a signal or rather, get a clear reception with the tip of his nose.

With a scary synchrony, everyone turned to Yoongi who's already staring at the open door.

“Yeah she is.” The rapper quietly confirms before turning to Jimin. “How long?”

Jimin stretches from where he stands, trying to gauge how close he is to a soulbond strain through how heavy his body feels while trying to appear normal to any passing staff.

“I think a couple of minutes but she'll be here soon, I know.”

“Stop biting your lips like that, Jungkook. You're going to hurt yourself.” Jin points out and immediately, Jungkook obeys, only realizing then what he was doing prior.

All of a sudden, Namjoon places a hand on Jungkook's shoulder, slightly startling him. With a quick glance around the room, the rapper leaned down.

“Go talk to her, she's walking back to us now.” He informs in a low voice before patting his back and ushering him out.

“Don't take too long, alright?!” Jimin yells. I need her going unsaid.

Except for the time the rest of them had flooded your room, he has never seen a glimpse of you today. It's like he's attending his and your wedding. With all the jitters in his body and the fact that he hasn't seen you since last night, he might as well think of his date as a wedding.

…or is that too fast?

The nexus is bound for a soulbinding once they return to Seoul anyways and it's the closest to marriage without being actually married. So was he really fast or is time just too slow?

Truth be told, despite having told you how he had forgotten the mistakes of yesterday in favor of focusing on the future ahead of you all as a nexus, Jungkook is scared beyond comprehension of how the conversation will flow later on during the day. 

He may have apologized but he has no doubt his words had ingrained itself into your mind. The very thought of being the reason for your initial hesitance towards them plagued his mind every night and made his stomach churn so painfully bile would crawl up to his throat. 

Even then, puking would be the gentlest of punishment he could get after the turmoil he had caused within you.

But Jungkook is determined to change it all. 

Today is a new day, a day that holds a promise of apologies and love. He’s got a whole day to atone and it would be a shame to start the date off with a negative attitude.

Should he ask you what color you’d be wearing to match it?

He did tell you to wear something comfortable and elegant but it slipped his mind to ask. 

Could there be a chance that you might have picked something out from your wardrobe back home? Should he go ask Taehyung or Jimin if they have seen what you've packed in your luggage? Did you bring that floral dress that he liked—

Realizing his jumbled thoughts, Jungkook groaned. 

He might actually trip over and embarrass himself if you did; and if he did, his hyungs might as well kill him since he'd never forget how he tumbled like a fool because he'll be far too occupied with the sight of you than paying attention to his plain surroundings.

Because why look at the mundane when you can gaze upon colors and magnificence, right?

God, he's hopeless.

He's only ever had one girlfriend but even then, their relationship only lasted for two months and it all happened back when he was 17. Their dates had consisted of hours spent in PC rooms, walk in parks, and the occasional visits to her aunt's coffee shop. His experience and expertise in watching the romance genre are rendered useless in the face of his dilemma.

So all he’s got is a memory to go by and he’s wishing on all his lucky stars that it’ll be enough for a first date.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?” He had automatically answered.

His body moved before his brain could process your voice. When he looked up, you were walking towards him with an entire outfit wrapped in a protective plastic thrown over your shoulder.

Your hair is a testament to how stressful today has been. There's strands sticking out of your low lazy bun and it reminds him of those balls of sticks that roll in the desert he's seen in movies. Jogging up to you, he reached out in an attempt to smoothen them back down with a giggle.

“You look like a porcupine with all these hair poking out, noona.”

“Been checking around shops in LA for hours with a few of the stylists, I think I looked fine for someone who's been running around like a headless chicken.”

It's not the time to be gawking at you, nor is it the right place to be openly enamoured by you but he couldn't help himself from melting into a foolish expression when you're all so sweaty and haggard but is still smiling up at him.

“It's adorable though. It's like you got signal towers all over trying to communicate with all of us.” He says with a hand above his head rapidly opening and closing to emulate the signal being thrown back at you.

“I don't look that bad!”

“Yo-you're not, it's cute!” He barely stammered out. “Why are you even carrying that? Where's the stylist that should be doing this?”

“She had an... accident. I offered to stay back to buy it while she went back to the hotel.”

“Do you want me to…” He trails off as you suddenly reach for his chin.

You tilt his face up, suddenly noticing a blur at the end of the hall as his head moves. But as he was about to investigate, you tut and his attention was brought back to you.

“You've got bags under your eyes, did you even sleep last night?”

He looked away. 

“Of-of course.” You raised an eyebrow and he sighed, defeated. “I didn't.”

Immediately, your face contorts into worry and you lean in close to presumably whisper. Jungkook mirrors it and he’s immediately greeted with the scent of your perfume and body wash from the proximity. 

“Should we move our date today?”

He stands. “No! I'm perfectly fine noona, I swear!”

“I'm worried you might faint or that something might happen in the middle of it all.” You say with your eyebrows knitted in concern. He reached to smoothen them down with his thumb.

“I promise you, I'll be fine. We won't even stay out that late!”

“You sure?”

Truth be told, he’s feeling a little doozy already but it might just be you being so close that his body wanted to fold over you and have him drown in your scent before succumbing to sleep but he won’t say that out loud. 

Instead, he took your hand where the other half of his music is and intertwined them together before crossing his heart with his other hand.

Instantly, Jungkook's soul flourished. Finally connected to its other half.

“A billion, trillion percent!”

You assess him a little longer with knitted eyebrows and crossed arms, and for a second, Jungkook thought he’s going to be found out but then you sighed and he internally cheered.

“But the moment I see you looking like you're about to pass out, we're going home alright?” He couldn't tell you how unacceptable he finds it but he nods anyway. Happy wife, happy life they say. “Did Nabi arrive yet?”

Jungkook blinks because no, he did not see any other woman around him earlier because he was busy perfecting your date later  but it sounded cheesy so all he could say was:

“I didn't notice. Aren't you guys in a group chat together?”

You scratched your neck. “My phone died, I forgot to charge it before I went to sleep.”

Hearing sleep reminded him of your and Jimin's soulmark and he jolted.

“Jimin is waiting for you by the way. He didn't tell me where you'll find him but—”

“I'll find him somehow. Thank you, gguk!” 

You threw your arms around him, and in quick succession, pressed a chaste kiss on the farthest edge of his lips before running away, stunning him from where he stood as his brain struggled to process what his senses had just felt. When it finally came to him, he practically exploded from how quickly his face had grown hot.

But even with the spontaneous hug and cheek kiss, he wasn't blind to the blur disappearing behind the wall at the end of the hall. 

Someone has seen noona kiss me. 

Moving quickly and as silently as he could, he reached the end with his heartbeat ringing in his ears and saw the eavesdropper, and his heart dropped .

God, he should've been more careful with his words in public. Namjoon would cut off all of his charger wires.

There’s no doubting the fact that she must’ve seen and heard about his date with you because his big mouth just couldn't stop itself when he's with you. Of all the people who could've overheard his talk with you, of course it just has to be her .

“Hello, did you enjoy eavesdropping on us?” 

Hearing him, Alexa shrinks further into herself and Jungkook mentally pulls on his hair.

What is going to do with her, the top gossipmonger in the company and the one who was said to be jealous of you? 

Should he tell the others?

That conversation would quickly turn into scolding him and you for being careless. It might also ruin your mood the entire day—something he cannot afford when it's supposed to be a happy day today. 

Damn him and his mouth.

“Hey.”

“I-I didn't hear anything!” Alexa spluttered out.

“What did you hear?”

“No-nothing!”

“Seriously. Don't piss me off.” 

His hyungs would have a fit if they heard how he's scaring one of their staff, a woman nonetheless. He already feels faint from trying to bully Alexa into silence, could hear and feel the judgment in his brothers’ eyes from far away but maybe they can think of this as an exception?

“Just something about a date, nothing else! I promise!”

Should he just let her go?

He should scare her into silence then tell the others what happened tomorrow after his date is done. Then they'll get to signing the NDAs.

But does it really warrant an NDA if all she heard about was their date? 

He doesn’t really mind a rumor bouncing around BigHit’s walls if it'll keep off the potential admirers if they heard Jeon Jungkook of BTS is dating you.

Besides, from what he's heard from Minhyuk and you, Alexa might be heard by everyone but no one truly believed her so if anything were to spread, it'll be her words against you, someone who’s been in the company for so long. 

“You didn't hear anything, alright?”

She frantically nods and he stands straight.

“Our lawyers will be in contact soon to have you sign an NDA. Until then, don't do something you'll regret because I will know .”

With that, Alexa flees the scene, running towards the other direction that'll lead her to the exit and the lobby. 

As he watched her retreating figure, Jungkook began to ponder his actions once more. Was that the right move?

Turning on his heels, he too began to head back to the rest of his nexus with his heartbeat echoing deep in his ears and a mind going into an overdrive as he thought back to his decisions, every manifested thought increasing his urge to bang his head onto the nearest wall. 

How could he be so careless?! 

He should've known better than to talk to you in the hall. There was a janitor’s closet a few steps behind him at the time, he should've pulled you in instead of letting himself be towed away by his emotions. Years in this business and he still hasn't learned.

Re-entering the busy room, he sees you recall a funny encounter you had at the mall with the rest of the nexus and Jungkook takes a stabilizing breath to compose himself enough before joining the conversation.

He had made the necessary steps, it was enough. Their secret will be safe. 

You will be safe.

He did well.

It's enough.

[Today 16:03]            [16:03] Ramen-hyung: hey jungkook            [16:03] Ramen-hyung: dont do something stupid🤜🤜            [16:03] Rapper-hyung🐱 : they just left the hotel            [16:03] Rapper-hyung🐱: let them step into the pier first before threatening the kid jeez            [16:03] Ramen-hyung: i dont care            [16:04] Ramen-hyung: dont do anything stupid😤            [16:04] Mini-hyung: hyung please, no one would dare mess up after you lectured us on how to act on the first date for almost two hours            [16:04] Mini-hyung: never even knew we shouldn't touch our date's exposed shoulders or back until earlier            [16:04] Ramen-hyung: good, that means you've been enlightened             [16:05] Ramen-hyung: set the bars high on your first day kid👍👍👍            [16:05] Ramen-hyung : but not too high            [16:05] Ramen-hyung : not that my idea isn't better than yours to be threatened of ofc😊            [16:05] Clumsy-hyung: have fun at ur date, gguk😁            [16:05] Dreamy-hyung : bring back food pls🥲            [16:06] Mini-hyung : I'll come by later for a recharge, okay? don't leave the beach before I get there            [16:06] Mini-hyung : we didn’t get enough time to recharge properly :’)            [16:06] Scary-hyung : if you feel sick, don't be stubborn and come back alright?            [16:06] Ramen-hyung : buy her something good            [16:06] Ramen-hyung : I WILL KNOW IF ITS SHIT            [16:06] Dreamy-hyung : do u know what she’s craving rn hyung?            [16:06] Ramen-hyung : something savory it seems…            [16:06] Ramen-hyung : FEED HER SOMETHING SAVORY😤😤😤            [16:07] Me : yes mother🙄            [16:07] Dreamy-hyung : since when did you start knowing her cravings hyung?            [16:07] Ramen-hyung : SHUSH

_______

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ride a yacht.”

You were so pretty that day. 

Body clad in a flowy floral white dress with your hair messily gathered and tied through the harsh winds of autumn. 

After a successful concert night, everyone had unanimously agreed to a well-deserved break. You were originally supposed to hang out with Minhyuk and the others until you found out their plan was to bar hop around L.A and decided to turn down the offer to join him and his hyungs to the Santa Monica pier.

Taking a break after getting your soul snatched in the rollercoaster, you had tugged him to sit at the edge of the platform to catch your breath when you caught sight of the yacht filled with exuberant drunks stumbling and cheering loudly at the far distance.

Everyone didn’t want to ride the rollercoaster with him, scared by the twirls and the heights but you, ever so weak for him—a fact that he loves and abuses—gave and trudged towards the entrance which is why he’s sitting with you at the edge of the pier after the ride.

Jungkook, still young with his chubby cheeks and wide-eyed innocence, peered up to you, a light much brighter and more beautiful than the setting sun before him. “Why would you want that?”

You scratched your cheek, suddenly looking sheepish. “I watched a movie where the two leads went out in the sea to have a date... They had all this amazing food they ate on the deck under the stars in the middle of the ocean and I just…”

He didn’t mean to go radio silent. You were just so pretty under the sheen of the setting sun. The pretty mix of orange and pink tinted clouds behind you captivated him. The glow of the sunset had made your skin softer and your eyes much more vibrant, he thinks of the sight as a priceless masterpiece deserving to be painted and preserved in museums to be fawned by everyone. They must see and know such a beautiful woman exists.

And that he was the only man to ever see you under this light.

Hearing your voice as you drawled on about the movie, Jungkook finds himself hypnotized by your voice. Only you could make a movie with a questionable trope sound so interesting and much greater than what he thinks.

Letting his eyes drift down to your exposed shoulders, Jungkook suddenly found himself overwhelmed with the urge to lean down to kiss the skin but he couldn't do that so instead he reached out to push back the couple of stray hairs blown to the front by the brisk wind. 

At this, you suddenly slow to a halt.

“Jungkook?”

Realizing you were waiting for his response, Jungkook stammered out a reply. “W-well, wha-what kind of… food were they eating?”

You paused, gaze drifting back to the yacht as you pondered.

“You know, the standard steak and wine combo but honestly? I’d much rather eat something that my date and I like.”

Jungkook mentally notes it down.

“And a-after the food, what else did they do?”

Your silence spoke louder than your words. He could guess what movie you saw it from, his guess proving true when your face contorted into an uncomfortable frown. 

He's heard of the movie of course, he's a teenage boy who's surrounded by other teenage boys that are a little too excited to see a woman's breast. Jungkook has heard whispers about the controversial movie whenever he passed by their tables at school, even heard them crudely and animatedly recollect the scenes in the movie.

But he won’t tell you that.

Flustered, you had waved him off. “I won’t tell you about that one, kid.”

“I’m going to be an adult in September, you know?”

He didn’t mean to pout when you ruffled his head but he unconsciously did and you ended up pinching both his cheeks.

If there was anything he hated about you, it would be how you never fail to think of him as a kid.

“You could be pushing eighty and I’d still think of you as my baby.”

Remembering the last time he was here in the pier, Jungkook wilts.

There might be a thousand possibilities and a hundred of back up plans he has devised in his mind since the day they decided who’s going to go first but there truly is one thing he wants to achieve today.

And it's to make you see him as a man.

As childish and immature it sounded, he’s dedicated to changing your perspective of him.

He wasn’t the same kid who had cried and clung onto your side whenever his hyungs or the world seemed to be mad at him. It's been years since he has burnt the baby fats on his cheeks, years since he’s outgrown the clothes he brought from Busan, he’s taller than you and there’s no mistaking the muscles he’s growing yet you seem to always gaze at him as if he’s nothing but a puppy.

It’s frustrating.

When will you stop looking at him and think of him as that snotty little boy wonder from Busan?

“What are you pouting for, kid?”

He frowned. “I’m not a kid anymore, noona. Stop calling me that.”

Jungkook’s aware how childish it is, even his hyungs had laughed in his face when they heard him complain about the nickname before they proceed to ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks.

Like a kid.

If he gets a sleeve tattoo and pierced more parts of his face, would you stop thinking of him as the same kid you helped raise? If he gained more muscles and looked more colder and unbothered, would you finally see something else than the wide-eyed kid who used to cling onto you when he gets overwhelmed?

“Whatever you say, ggukie.” You smiled, and in a different setting, he’d find himself being enchanted by it but for now, he’s frustrated by it. 

Fixing his hat down and adjusting the mask on his face, he took a quick glance of his surroundings before pointing at a random food stand that looked most appetizing. 

A seafood boil it had said, with a couple of customers lined up to the kind looking clerk with a nice smile behind the cashier table. It’s always a good sign when the staff genuinely enjoys their job, no?

“Wanna eat something before we go for rides?”

It only took you a glance at the shop’s offering before you’re looking back at him to nod excitedly at him.

“That looks amazing,” You remarked. “But can we just have one order? I don’t think I can eat a whole order by myself.”

“Never thought you’d be able to eat it by yourself in the first place, noona.”

He giggled at the indignant ‘hey’ you let out before taking your hand in his and tugging you towards the line.

Taking a peek at the menu, the both of you quickly decide on what to order and soon enough, you’re walking away to find yourselves a table. Jungkook didn’t mean to ogle so blatantly in public but he couldn’t stop his eyes from leaving the respectful staring zone to fall victim to the sway in your hips as you walk away.

Forgive me, hyung. I really tried.

Internally, he high fived Jimin for suggesting to wear sunglasses before he left his hotel room. Jungkook only realised now that the man had intended it for more than a disguise when he got a good look of how your outfit had complimented your body.

Letting his eyes wander appreciatively over the wonderful view of your back for a little while longer, he cleared his throat and pulled out his phone to message his hyung.

           [16:52] Me : you devious, genius PERV            [16:52] Me : ily bro

Then shooting a quick message to Jin to inform him they’ll be eating crab boil so that he won’t eat something that’ll clash against the taste of their food.

Because heaven forbid you eat something delicious for the first time that day only for it to be ruined by the sweetness of ice cream or coke.

“What can I get you for today, young man?”

Jungkook realized with a cold, creeping dread then how he’ll be ordering for the both of you today; something he was almost never asked to do since it's always the oldest who does the talking.

After clumsily handing the man the right amount of cash and managing to communicate what he wanted from pointing at the menu folder on the table, he’s finally walking back to you who’s typing away at your phone, no doubt to your friends’ group chat if the lack of vibration from his phone was anything to go by.

Pulling the plastic chair next to you, he sat down and reflexively pulled his beanie off to run his hand over his hair.

Instantly, you looked around for anyone who might’ve recognized him from the hair alone.

“Relax, surely they won’t immediately recognize me like this.”

“I’m sure seeing me being accompanied by a man wearing sunglasses, a mask and a beanie is enough of a clue, gguk.” You deadpanned. He shrugged but tucked his hair back into the bonnet.

“You worry too much, noona. We’re not that big here yet, you know?”

“You can never be too sure.”

You were beginning to drum your fingers on the table, eyes alert as you looked around. Jungkook reached over to take your restless hand in his to press gentle circles onto the plush of your palms. 

Time passed like that. What started as you pointing out a stall you both had visited last time to relieve a memory easily branched out to you both remembering another memory after seeing one thing which then led to another topic.

All the while his fingers had slowly melded against yours.

Jungkook would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about the possibility of having dead air between you both, especially after his outburst on his birthday.  He wasn’t blind to the occasional cautiousness when you speak around him as if suddenly reminded of his bitter words

It was different when you’re both surrounded by the others who could always create topics out of thin air for everyone to add their own piece.

The relief he felt when he saw that nothing had changed between the both of you is almost euphoric. Hearing and seeing you laugh at his jokes and react to all of the absurdities he purposely spat out felt like the ruins of all the seven wonders of the world were being lifted off of him one smile at a time.

If you had noticed both of your hands entangled with each other at some point, you pretend not to.

And when the food came, he found himself at peace with the companionable silence that came right after but mourned the loss of the thrum of your connected soulmarks as the waiter poured the contents of the bucket into the plastic he had laid down on the table.

“This is more than I expected it to be.” You remarked as you both put on your gloves.

Pulling out his phone, he took a quick snap of you breaking off a leg from the crab and sent it to the group chat

           [17:21] Me : [photo attached]            [17:21] Me : be envious :P

“You sure this is the smallest portion, gguk?”

“Just eat what you can, I’ll eat the rest.” 

When the waiter returned, it was with their drinks, a pair of cans of sprite. Autonomously, Jungkook opened them all, ignoring the constant buzzing from both your phones laid oppositely on the table.

Curious, you unlocked your phone and began to backread, it took you a couple of scrolls to begin laughing but it fell when you found his message and all of a sudden you’re shooting a glare at him.

“Would it hurt you to inform a girl when you’re taking a pic of her? I look shit here.”

“What do you mean? It’s cute!” He exclaimed. “I’m even willing to bet someone changed their homescreen wallpaper to that.”

“Might have to bring up your weakening eyesight to Sejin, gguk.”

“So you’re saying I have bad standards?” He quickly retorts with a poorly concealed smile as his attempt to look serious quickly crumbles.

Your face contorted into what he could best describe as ‘???’ and he threw his head back to cackle loudly, attracting a couple of attention from the tables around them.

“How the fuck did we get there? One plus one does not equal eleven!” You replied with an incredulous look.

At the end of your late lunch, you managed to eat at least twenty percent of the portion before surrendering the remaining food to him which he happily engulfed but internally stressed over because you need to be hungry by dinner or else all his preparations will be for naught. You don’t have the quick metabolism as he does, nor the same stomach space Jungkook has after all.

Oh my god I did not think this through enough

So he suggested walking around and trying the booths before trying out the rides available.

Which quickly turns out to be a bad idea when the first booth they passed by was the rope climbing game offering a decently sized Cinnamoroll doll as the prize. 

Now, he could just buy you one once you all get to the Japan leg of the tour, a plushie far bigger and straight from the original store.

HOWEVER

Seeing it being offered for cheap—if he manages to get it on the first attempt—Jungkook couldn’t help but be drawn to the game like a moth to a flame. It didn’t help that you were acting like the devil on his shoulder, ushering him to try it out for shits and giggles.

“For the experience,” you said with a shrug. “Unless you’re scared to get wiped off.”

He’ll hate himself later for letting himself be easily influenced by your words but for now, it was him against the damned rope for that damned plush toy.

“Just two tries, gguk.” You firmly say and he scoffed. “I mean it. We still have a lot planned, no?”

He knows that, hence why he’s getting you that plush immediately.

“Just one is enough, watch me.”

For the first attempt, he had decided to climb it normally, crouched down and carefully crawled up but when he reached the middle, he made a critical mistake when he placed too much weight on his feet and the rope flips. Jungkook managed to climb up one more level before his arms gave out and he fell onto the inflatable mattress below him.

His second attempt was paid by you before he could even pull out his wallet.

“Win that plush for me, gguk.”

“What do I get in return?” He asked as he readied himself at the start. Jungkook doesn’t mean it of course.

“I’ll think about it later, just win that plush for me, kid.”

Jungkook sucked air through his teeth as he pulled his jogger pants up as he tested the waters, knowing then what he’ll wish for in exchange.

The second time, he had decided to follow the technique he saw on YouTube once where the man was walking backwards, and kicked his shoes off. It raised some eyebrows when they all saw him do it but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He’s gonna make you stop calling him kid.

But once a man gets determined, there can only be two results by the end of his streak: victory or losing from having his vision narrowed and focus sharpening to achieve his desired results.

Jungkook falls with a huff, a little annoyed at himself for slipping when he was at an arm length away from the buzzer.

The booth owner said something and Jungkook easily deciphered it as ‘good luck next time’ but he’s going to hold himself back from being baited into trying again, he still has a couple of things to cross off his list before night comes and they have to board the yacht.

But as he was putting his shoes back, he noticed your lack of presence and he shot back up, eyes jumping from one face to another in the increasing mass of visitors around him before finding you a couple of meters away from him, talking to an old lady carrying straw bag and is holding a pair of felted keychain-sized bears up to you.

You laughed when the woman had said something to you with a mischievous crinkle in her eyes and Jungkook decided to spectate you a little longer from a distance. 

Jungkook's soulmark tingled, the loud and apparent absence of your hand rippling throughout his body. 

In the short time he had been away from you, Jungkook was surprised by the crashing ache and almost debilitating need to touch your skin and to hold you close. He didn’t even know how he’s so winded when all he’s done is watch you.

Becoming soulmates, Jungkook realizes, had subtly changed the way he notices things.

The crowd has long thickened around you both, people of all colors, genders, and identities swarmed the place as the sun slowly descended towards the horizon, yet even with all those faces and busy bodies passing by him, his eyes could only see you. His gaze, no matter how obstructed it got, seemed to always pick you out in the swarm.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to him.

And Jungkook is gone .

Like in the movie, Jungkook found himself with his breath stolen as a kaleidoscope of flowers and twinkling stars exploded behind him. It was as if your eyes were the bows and arrows of cupid and you had shot him straight in the chest and the brimming sweetness and colors of the love and adoration he struggled to keep in was gushing out of his chest.

Your face contorted into confusion and you quickly bought the pair of bears and eight crochet squids with different felted hats from the lady, and jogged back to him.

“Why are you staring off into the distance like that? Did losing shake you up this mch?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.

“You say something else and I’m releasing a couple of pics in the group chat.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know that I would,” Jungkook cheekily grinned, earning him a playful punch to his arm and he laughed. “Let’s just go check the other booths.”

A bag full of candies and snacks later, Jungkook is now standing in line to buy you both tickets for the ferris wheel while you occupy the last spot on the nearest bench as the strain of the distance between you and Jimin begins to take effect. He knew the moment you had grabbed onto his arms—which he, at first, stupidly mistaken as you clinging to him to not get separated by the growing crowd.

He had asked if you both should skip the ferris wheel in favor of resting by the beach but you pushed him to buy the tickets to the ferris wheel, stubbornly insisting on wanting to see the sunset.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who’ll end up getting sick?” He jokingly asked with a dull headache pounding at the back of his head.

“I’ll be fine the moment Jimin gets here, we’re not the same, kid.”

“We’re not the same, kid.” He repeated with a playful roll of his eyes.

If he slipped the ticket seller a couple of extra dollars to get you both into the ride first, you’ll never know.

The Ferris wheel rocked gently as it climbed, the creaking metal and ocean wind filling the space between them. Below, the Santa Monica Pier glows brighter by the second as the sun dips lower and the sky darkens with its descent as neon signs from the booths below blinked to life and the metal beams of the ferris wheel roared awake. 

Yet even with the increasing distance between them and the population below, the smell of fried dough and salt still clung to the air.

The ocean stretched endlessly beyond them and glimmered like a bowl of spilled jewelries reflecting the beautiful streak of molten orange and quiet lavender of the sky. Somewhere far below, a group of kids screamed at the drop of a rollercoaster. 

Halfway the ferris wheel, the wind still curled around you both with the scent of salt and sugar. The view was everything you both could ever hope for: the sun kissing the water, the coastline glowing gold, the lights of the pier flickering awake below them one by one like stars waking up.

Maybe it was the proximity or maybe it's the fact that there’s no eyes around you both to judge or pick apart your dynamics but Jungkook finds himself suddenly shy sitting next to you who has been busy taking pictures of the view before you both. He eyed the hand with his soulmark and silently wondered if there’s any chance he could link his fingers with yours.

He actually jumped when your hand brushed his when you pocketed your phone and held onto the cushion to take in the gentle breeze whistling past you both. You leaned forward, eyes squinted into the wind as your hair swayed softly behind you.

Jungkook just looked at you, watched the way the orange sheen of the sunset clung to your outline, how the moment seemed to draw a kind of stillness around you—like a bird who has been freed from its cage, as if accumulated stress of yesterdays were being towed away by the breeze. 

His hands itched to pull his phone out to take a picture of you.

Opening your eyes, you turn to him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can’t a man just appreciate beauty?” He responded with all the confidence in the world while dying internally. You giggled and that's all that matters.

You both eventually reach the top, the capsule tilting slightly with the wind. From here, the ocean looked like a living canvas, ink-blue waves stretching into the horizon where the sun sat melting into it, slow and gold and vast.

You both fell quiet.

The wind swirled in, cold enough to raise goosebumps. It was so peaceful being so high up in the sky, the height brought about a kind of serenity a man could only experience after living a fulfilling life and is now looking over his porch. 

Then, just as they started dipping again—clunk. The wheel stopped.

The capsule jerked and his hands automatically wounded itself around you while your hands grabbed onto him with a tight grip as the carriage suddenly halts, leaving them suspended high up in the air.  

Jungkook heard the complaints and the screaming from the other carriages but their words flew out in so much panic he almost thought they were speaking an otherworldly language. His heart thudded in his ears as he pulled you closer to him, eyeing the rocking carriage even when its sway began to slow down.

With the initial shock from the malfunction subsiding, Jungkook then began to notice how close you are and the tightness of your grip on his shirt. The subtle scent of your shampoo and perfume wafting towards him, he suppressed the urge to groan and bury his nose into your hair.

The hinges on the carriage could give and you both could fall into your untimely death but Jungkook couldn't find it in himself to care when he's surrounded by you. 

At least he'd die with the warmth and the scent of you clinging onto his skin, the hopeless romantic in Jungkook thoughts.

“Holy fuck, we're stuck.” You commented after a couple of beats.

Yet even with the unfortunate predicament, a part of Jungkook was thankful you both were together high up in the air.

“You know, I kinda hope it stays stuck.” He voiced out.

You pulled away and he immediately mourned the loss of your warmth.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean… not forever. We have work tomorrow and I still have plans for us. But for now—this feels like one of those weird, perfectly accidental pauses.”

He had half expected you to blurt out a horrible joke to cope with the situation so imagine his shock when you instead smiled at him.

God, he wishes he could capture how soft you looked with the warm light of the sunset bouncing off of your skin.

“Me too.”

Attacked by the ticklish sensation of butterflies in his stomach and the creeping heat up his neck, he quickly looked away and propped his head on his arm standing by the rails in a poor attempt to look nonchalant.

So much for hoping you'd think of him differently after this day.

“Gguk.”

Jungkook turned his head just enough to see you at the edge of his vision. “Yeah?”

“I know I've said this a thousand times before,” He opened his mouth to interrupt already knowing what you’re about to say but after years of friendship made him predictable and you clasped a hand on his mouth. “No, let me finish.”

He stared back at you and contemplated on licking your hands but stopped himself.

“I know we started off with this soulmate thing on the wrong foot. You being understandably mad and me being stupidly inconsiderate of your feelings,—don’t you dare lick my hand I will eat all the pepperoni in your pizzas—and I just wanna say that I'm sorry, for not explaining myself properly and for… everything. I'm gonna try and do better from now on, and I promise to treat you, you and the others better. I can't buy you the luxury you all could buy for me but I'll do it, somehow.”

For a long while, Jungkook did nothing but stare as a swirling conflict of emotions swarmed him.

Jungkook had long acknowledged the wrongs and the sins committed from both sides, he was childish and handled rejection like an inferior man while you never explained to him properly why you did what you did, his wrongs were heavier than yours though. Namjoon and the rest have helped him understand that. 

But ever since the little music note manifested into his and your hands, he had taken a step away from the mistakes of yesterday to focus on the future, on building the foundations of what should soon be a house filled with all the love you deserve.

But in this very moment with your hands clasped on his mouth and suspended high up in the air, Jungkook then wondered if he ever truly apologized to you yet? Past the rushed bow of his head and the weak ‘sorry’ he had stuttered out in his embarrassment from that day?

“Can I speak now?” He asked and it came out muffled but nonetheless, you nod and remove your hands.

“You don't have to feel like you owe us something, noona. Just you being the melody to my music is enough. I know I'm late and I should've realized this earlier but I am sorry too. For the hurtful words that haunted you whenever we all bond together. I was bitter and I know I should've handled that rejection better with grace but instead I said some things that even if you deny, have left a mark and hurt you.” He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look back into your tearful eyes.

In an attempt to not also not cry from seeing the tears slowly trail down your cheeks, he took your hands and entangled them with his.

There was something different about this resonation.

He had always noticed the subtle hesitance and the rippling feeling of incompletion whenever your soulmarks touch. But this time, the connection felt like it was being mended, like the gap from the pulled out nails in the wall is getting filled and cemented to paint a new start.

A real, new beginning for the both of you.

“I just hope that after today, we'll finally move on and let go of the heaviness of our mistakes and words from yesterday to focus on our future. I… I-I’m so lucky to be a part of your nexus, I'm still a bit childish but I-I’m going to prove to you that I can be just as big and tough as my hyungs. Just-just you wait.”

Letting go of your hands, he gingerly wiped away your tears with his thumb with a grin—a happy smile from a fulfilling heart-to-heart, something that says he's ready to finally move onto a new chapter with you without clothes getting stuck on the door. 

But then you started sobbing so now he's using his palms and the back of his hand.

“You’re not childish, gguk. Don’t ever say that.” You sobbed, reaching up to wipe your tears away and he stops you.

“Noona, do-don't cry. Remember you spent hours getting pretty for today.”

“Yo-you're crying too, shut it.” 

Jungkook took a moment to reach up to his cheek, realizing then that dampness on his mask wasn't from the moisture of his exhales. He laughed and tugged it down to the bottom of his nose before removing his sunglasses too to wipe off his tears.

When the crying finally stops, Jungkook stares back at you with a heart full of love, free from the heaviness of guilt weighing on his chest with plenty of space to fill in with nothing but you.

Up high in the sky with no one to see them and in a space filled by no one but the two of you, Jungkook felt weightless, giddy at the thought of a true, new beginning.

“Noona.”

“Yes, gguk?”

“C-can I kiss you?”

Jungkook realizes then that even if you were to reject him, he wouldn't have minded. He has days, weeks, months and years to spend with you, and in those future times, he'd eventually end up with a face full of kiss marks and sleep with you in his arms. 

His heart ached for the future he's yet to have.

So when you leaned in and kissed his cheek again like you did earlier instead, he decided that it was enough, he's content.

Your eyes then drifted to somewhere behind you both, squinting to see properly before you're hitting his chest repeatedly.

“Gguk, oh my god look .”

“What?”

“That capsule opposite us!”

Jungkook turned, confused.

Inside the capsule, a couple had clearly taken the break as a cue for something else. They were locked in a heated kiss with the woman sitting on his lap while the guy’s hand wandered her body under the loose crop top she wore.

He blinked. “Oh wow, they’re really going for it.”

“I dare you to cheer out loud.”

“I can't ruin their moment, noona. Bro code.”

“Even if we started screaming ‘yeah’ with our backs turned, they'd just think of us as two overly excited foreigners.”

They ended up doing nothing of course.

The wheel ended up moving again soon enough and Jimin’s text wondering where they were followed not a minute later so they headed towards the less crowded part of the beach. You both briefly took to the lemonade stand by the edge of the wooden platform, buying enough drinks for you, Jimin, him, and the driver and security.

He spots the inconspicuous black van parked in front of a Mexican restaurant a couple of minutes away from the pier. 

The passenger door parts open when they get close enough to reveal Jimin smiling behind a black mask similar to him. You didn’t even get to greet the man or sit properly before the man’s pulling you flush to his chest.

Jungkook quickly got in and pulled the door shut behind him before reaching towards the privacy blinds to do the same. 

These people might be under an NDA but you’re currently in an awkward, compromising position in that dress as you adjust in Jimin’s tight grip and Jungkook’s not so benevolent to let someone outside the nexus have a glimpse of that.

The way you and Jimin recharged surprised them all when they saw how comfortably you had slotted yourself to the eldest maknae’s side, even going as far as swinging your legs over his waist. It was an unspoken agreement in the nexus besides Jimin that something must’ve happened during the flight but it was quickly shrugged off.

Because you loosening up to Jimin meant the same to the rest of them, although not as physically close as you do with the man.

“How’s the date going so far?” Jimin asks, removing his mask and resting a hand on your knee.

“The ferris wheel malfunctioned and we were stuck at the top for a while.”

“Oh? For how long?” He asks, eyes turning to Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugged. “15 minutes I think? Not sure, we got a little caught up there.”

For a second, Jungkook swore he saw something dark flash in Jimin’s eyes but it was gone before he could process it and the oldest’s smile is twisting into a teasing grin as he wags his eyebrows at him.

“Got caught up huh? What kind of wicked things were you two doing up there?”

“We saw a couple making out from the opposite capsule, it was crazy!” You cut in, pure disbelief in your eyes.

The three of you fell into a comfortable lul as the both of you recalled the catfight between two women you both witnessed in front of the hoop game booth but Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from noticing how unusually touchy—and the guy breathes for physical affection—Jimin was with you.

From his hand thoughtlessly caressing your knees and up to the middle of your thighs, to the almost possessive way he wrapped his arm around your waist, every touch felt intentional and almost challenging, as if he’s smugly showing off how far you were letting Jimin do whatever he wants.

But maybe that’s just him overthinking it all.

Eventually though, the van begins to move as night falls towards the final destination of his date with you.

A dinner in a yacht while surrounded by nothing but the ocean and the stars.

Sending confirmation to the renting company that they’re on the way, he turned his attention to Chef Nam who he hired for the evening to inquire about the food.

Busy with ironing the finer details, Jungkook didn’t look away from his phone until the van slowed to a halt. Looking up from his phone, he saw that they had arrived at their final destination.

“Why did we stop at a dock? What’s going on?” You asked, trying to sound confused but he could hear the slightest hint of hope in your voice.

Opening the door, Jungkook hops out and offers his hand out, the one with the soulmark.

“We’re just going for a walk before dinner.”

You didn’t buy it of course, still, you followed him out. 

Bidding Jimin goodbye, Jungkook led you deeper into the docks.

The dock shimmered under the soft lamplight hanging from weathered wooden posts. It was quiet except for the sound of waves lapping lazily against polished wood but what Jungkook focused most on was the sleek yacht waiting at the far end, subtle in design but unmistakably expensive. 

There’s a couple of people entering and leaving the vehicle carrying boxes and foil covered items into the boat, Jungkook saw the head chef and the captain mounting the yacht, and his initial nervousness vanished.

Everything is ready, Jungkook, you can calm down now.

Seeing him approach with you beside him, the violinist at the end of the dock hitched his instrument on his shoulder and played a gentle imitation of the song Perfect .

You stopped, blinking once, then twice before turning to him and looking back at the violinist and the yacht.

“No,” You said flatly, face shocked into disbelief. “No fucking way .”

Impossibly, Jungkook’s smile widened as he slid his hands into the pocket of his pants. “Yes way.”

“Gguk, you didn’t!”

The smile that stretched across your face was reminiscent of a kid who received her biggest wish for Christmas. All of a sudden, you’re hitting his arm out of excitement.

“What did I do?!” He exclaimed, leaning away from your assault.

“Ggukie ,” His nickname sounded so sweet when you whispered it out, voice soft and eyes twinkling like the soft jewel-like reflection of the moonlight on the sea. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did, noona.”

Namjoon had dared him earlier to carry you bridal style when entering the yacht, saying it should be one of the things you have in your bucket list but no matter how much Jungkook wanted to do it, he thinks he should be more… sophisticated for now. 

He needs to match his character with the theme of the night and not to act childish, lest he wish to never leave the ‘kid’ nickname behind.

Jungkook internally nodded, fist bumping himself as you both neared the boat.

Fuck it.

In a quick burst of strength and speed, he swooped down and scooped you up in his arms— one arm cradling beneath your thighs, the other urging your body to lean against him before falling back to his sides—and you let out a surprised squeal as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Jungkook let me down!”

“Not yet, my princess. Let this prince of yours carry you to safety.” He responded in the most antiquated Korean ever.

Surprisingly, you didn’t fight back his hold and let yourself sag against him with a defeated sigh.

The yacht eased away from the dock in silence, seeing as the guests it was waiting for had entered. Jungkook continued to carry you to the bow where a table in velvet red covers awaits them. The yacht had already begun to drift from the dock and people were already swarming in to set their plates and utensils.

Jungkook gently placed you down and pulled your chair out for you to take a seat before sitting down himself. 

The city melted behind you, its glow dimming with each slow drift forward until it was just ocean, starlight, and the lull of the sound of water and the violin playing in the background. Fairy lights glowed overhead in soft strands, casting warm light across the small table set at the bow. You looked around, still in disbelief as you both headed deeper across the sea.

A server placed two shrimp cocktails down in front of you both and you spared no time tasting it.

“Jungkook, this is so—” You trailed off, words failing you and he just nodded, already understanding what you wanted to say.

“I tried suggesting a simple dinner and stargazing, maybe a projector movie marathon/dinner but my mom was adamant on having a traditional approach with a candlelit dinner.” Jungkook admits, scratching his cheek.

Comfort over luxury. Close proximity and a night to uncover each other. 

But not literally.

“No, this is enough, gguk. You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

Jungkook lets himself be taken away by your words as you went on about how you had dreamed of a date like this with a permanent smile stretched across his face. 

He didn’t even notice the time it took him to finish the five shrimps hanging from the glass, so taken in by you. 

With how much staring and grinning he’s doing, he fears for the photos they captured of this moment. There’s going to be a lot of him just staring like a lovesick fool and he’s already planning how to stow it far away from any members of the nexus, even you.

And when their starters were done, the servers swooped in to take the glass away before serving two different dishes. 

The main course was ganjang gejang, a marinated crab dish rich with soy and spice, for him while you had a honey-seared duck breast. Words died down and you both shared a companionable silence as the flavors of your respective dishes silence you and him.

When dessert came, they placed a chocolate tiramisu for him and a matcha for you, both served in chilled glass jars.

“I’m going to cry,” You immediately commented after the first bite. “I’m sending the chef a fruit basket.”

“WE are going to send a fruit basket.” And a hefty tip for doing such a good job.

The plates had been cleared, the tiramisu long gone, and the music had shifted into something softer, something more ambient—just quiet strings and ocean hush. Overhead, stars blinked lazily above the yacht's deck, and the sea rolled smooth and silver around them. You walked towards the edge while Jungkook sneaked to the back to thank the staff, bowing and shaking their hands.

The captain screamed something with a heavy accent and he wasn’t able to catch it. At his words, the servers began walking back along with the few staff he had taken with him following behind. 

“He’s calling the staff back so you both could have a private moment.” Chef Nam translates beside him before patting his back and joining the servers and his sous chef.

Jungkook walked back with his heart beating in his throat and the moment the violinist saw him, his song took a mellow turn. The song is unfamiliar but nonetheless carries the sweet pureness of young love in its melody. At this, you turned and his hands began to clam up.

Holy fuck, am I really about to do this? I’m actually gonna dance with you under the night sky???

Wiping his palms on the back of his pants with a sheepish grin, he offered a hand out to you.

Then, you both began to move. 

Jungkook, with all the restless nerves in his body, had accidentally tripped on the first step and hung his head in shame as you giggled. 

It was awkward at first. His eyes were focused on everything except yours because every time he’d meet your eyes in such an intimate setting and standing so close his heart would skip. There was also a noticeable space between your bodies.

You both might be familiar with each other but to slow dance under the stars with no one else but you and him at the dock, you both weren’t accustomed to each other romantically yet.

Even then, you both swayed to the accompanying song in the background.

Gathering all the courage in his body, he looked deep into your eyes and stepped closer.

You didn’t move back but instead threw your arms around his neck, drawing you closer to him and his breath hitched. 

Jungkook’s hand trembled as it slowly fell down to wrap around the low of your back, his body overwhelmed by the emotions you evoke in him even without the effects of your soulmark.

Your feet moved and matched with him and his heart eventually settled as he grew more comfortable meeting your gaze—oh so soft, oozing with sweet adoration, and carrying words you’re far too uncertain to let go of. 

But Jungkook understands.

The world had stilled around you both. And in the middle of the ocean, under nothing but stars and quiet waves, two people danced like they had been dancing with each other for years.

Your cheek brushed against his shoulder as you settled against his chest, the warmth of your skin soft against the fabric of his shirt. He wondered if you could hear how crazy his heart was beating for you, wondered if your heart mirrored his.

The music continued in the background, blurred by the sound of the sea. He didn’t hear the melody anymore. Couldn’t even feel the brisk wind blowing past. All he could focus on was you.

Under the glimmering stars and deep in the serenity brought to you by the waves and the gentle whistles of the wind, Jungkook thinks himself the happiest man alive.

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