#it’s what they’ve desperately needed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nottsangel · 3 months ago

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shared spaces — t.n. & m.r. & l.b.

pairing: fem!reader x theo nott x mattheo riddle x enzo berkshire. new girl au — in which you live together.

warnings: smut 18+, foursome, threeway kiss, oral sex (m. receiving), double penetration (unprotected vaginal and anal sex), fingering, bad italian probably (sorry!), creampie, praise, choking

word count: 4.6k

summary: a night of drinking with your roommates takes an unexpected turn when innocent teasing escalates into a foursome you’ll never forget.

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Roommates. That’s all you, Theodore, Mattheo and Lorenzo were. Not friends, fuck no. Just… roommates. Nothing more, nothing less. Roommates you could kill with your bare hands at times, that is— especially when you were lying in bed late at night, headphones turned up to max volume, while all three boys were busy slamming their cock into whatever random girl was foolish enough to go home with them that day. Or when you came back to the cramped apartment, swung open the freezer, and discovered that they’ve eaten all the ice cream you’d been looking forward to eating all day.

Oh, how you desperately wished you were living somewhere else in those moments— anywhere, really. But unfortunately, you didn’t have a choice. You urgently needed a place after breaking up with your cheating ex-boyfriend, and this was the best you could find at that time.

But it was fine. Not great, but fine. You lived your own life, and so did they. You didn’t talk to them much—only when necessary—and avoided them as much as you could. It might sound unfriendly and hostile, you were fully aware of that, but they were too busy bragging to each other about the girls they hooked up with anyway, and you had no desire to be part of that conversation. And it was whatever. You were content like this, minding your own business. And you were planning to continue living exactly like this until you found a better place to live… But was that still what you really wanted?

After a few chaotic months of living together, everything began to change dramatically. As much as you despised these same boys not too long ago—well, you still very much do—the dynamics between the three of you had completely shifted. You weren’t just roommates anymore, no, you were… a little more than that.

What exactly, you might ask? Well, Lorenzo liked to call it RWB (roommates with benefits), which resulted in a slap to the head each time he brought it up. You flat-out refused to ever call it that. And besides, whatever the hell it was, you didn’t even want to label it.

Anyway, to cut straight to the point without beating around the bush any longer— you were having sex with your roommates. Yes, each one of them. All fucking three. The three boys that you used to fight with over the most minuscule things you could possibly think of, are now the same boys pinning you down onto your mattress until you’re drooling all over the sheets ‘cause of how good they were fucking you. It all strangely unfolded so naturally and so gradually, as if the lines between friendship and desire were slowly fading away without anyone noticing. Still, it felt wrong, it felt dirty, but god, it felt so fucking good too.

To go back to the beginning and provide some much-needed context, it all started with them sharing you, actually. But not at the same time— no, that felt far too weird and awkward. Instead, they took turns sleeping with you separately, with each one of them fucking you whenever the mood struck, which happened a lot. Just casually brushing past them in the kitchen and feeling your ass press against their crotch was enough to drag you into their rooms. And it was fucking amazing— each one of them had their own unique qualities, fucking you in ways the others couldn’t.

Theo, for instance, was great at dirty talk and foreplay. He’d shamelessly whisper filthy words to you in Italian with that low, seductive voice of his as his fingers were buried deep inside of you, curling up so perfectly— he never failed to get you dripping wet in an instant.

Mattheo was a fucking god at eating you out— he could make you cum within seconds, the way his tongue skilfully sucked on your clit had you gripping his brown locks tightly.

And Lorenzo? He could put you into positions you never knew were possible, hitting spots so incredibly deep inside of you that your legs trembled uncontrollably each time you found yourself in his bed.

But still, it had its downsides. Fucking each one of them individually meant a lot of sex and left you sore and limping around, which eventually began to exhaust you, pushing you past your limits physically. It was simply too much for you to handle. All three of their sex drives were sky-high, and you, being just one girl in a house with three boys, just couldn’t fulfil their needs all the time.

So that’s when threesomes began to happen. And ohhh, a new world opened up to you. It was exhilarating, it was experimental, it was even better than the sex before, and with all the attention on you, you couldn’t get enough. So far, you’ve explored every possible threesome combination, and their skills combined were absolutely mind-blowing. You were hornier than ever—more needy, more aroused—and so were they.

But was that really the limit? threesomes? well, you thought it was— until tonight happened. It was just another drunken night with the boys, gathered in the cosy living room, playing whatever random board games you had dug out from the back of your closet, stacked away and long forgotten since you moved in.

The evening began so innocently, filled with laughter and lighthearted chatter as you drank some leftover alcohol from a party the week prior— until you unconsciously started inching closer to them, the chilly night breeze sneaking through the windows causing you to seek more warmth. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, though. You always became touchy and clingy whenever you were drunk— everyone knew that.

But with them being intoxicated as well, they found it increasingly difficult to control themselves around you, eyeing you with hungry, lustful gazes, especially as your lace bra temptingly peeked out from under your tight-fitting top and your short skirt inched higher with every movement you made.

Usually, after one of these nights, you’d end up going to bed with one of them—maybe two if the night called for it—but there was always one of them who was too tired or had some other girl come over anyway. Tonight was undeniably different, though, and you could feel it— they all wanted you.

Lorenzo and Mattheo sat on either side of you, with Lorenzo’s wandering hand slowly trailing over your bare, goosebumps-covered thigh, sending shivers cursing through your body, while Mattheo’s hand rested around your waist under your shirt, rubbing gentle circles on your soft skin with his thumb. Their warm hands felt nice on your cold body, but you couldn’t deny the ache building between your legs at both their irresistible touches.

The scent of their musky, aromatic colognes mingled with the smell of all kinds of alcohol, filling your nostrils, as their warm bodies pressed closely against yours, causing a small, amused smile to form on your lips at the sudden realisation that there was more than enough room on the couch for both of them. But no, they wanted to sit as close as possible to you, eagerly craving the feeling of your skin against theirs, even though a barrier of fabric still separated you from them. You didn’t have to read their minds to know how badly they wanted to rip it off your body.

Meanwhile, Theo sat across from you, watching the scene before him unfold with a cocky, lopsided smirk and dark eyes, fully aware that both drunken enzo and mattheo lacked any ounce of self-control strong enough to resist you, so he lazily let them do all the work of getting you aroused and horny before joining. Occasionally, he took a slow sip from his drink, but his intense gaze never left yours, absorbing the way you reacted to their touches and he knew— under your tiny skirt, your panties were soaked already.

And god, he was right. Just the slightest, teasing touch had you dripping wet already, as their firm hands continued to roam over your body, growing more hungrily and desperately with each passing second, both of them breathing heavily on either side of you.

For a fleeting moment, you lock eyes with Theo through your drowsy gaze, his own intense eyes fixated on you as your roommates explored your body, only making you more desperate and turned on.

“Sei così calda.” Theo murmured in a low, husky voice, his eyes glued to your body, eliciting an irritated groan from Mattheo as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Oh, shut up mate, no one can understand you.” he retorted, frustration lacing his tone. Theo simply chuckled in response, completely unfazed by him, fully aware of the underlying reasons for his annoyance. Mattheo hated it whenever Theo spoke Italian because he knew it gave him an undeniable advantage with girls, who swooned all over Theo the moment seductive Italian words flowed from his lips.

“Be nice, Matt” you warned, trying to appear stern but the alcohol cursing through your system made you uncontrollably let out a small giggle, causing Mattheo’s expression to soften too.

“I am nice. Is having my hands all over your body not me being nice, princess?” he teased with a cheeky smirk, his hand trailing down your bare back under your shirt toward your ass as his eyes hungrily gazed right at you through half-lidded eyes, a combination of lust and intoxication evident in their depths, his warm body merely inches away from yours. Your hazy, drunken state, their warm hands gliding all over your chilled skin, theo’s piercing eyes staring right at you— your head felt like it was spinning.

Suddenly, as if reading each other’s minds, both boys gently yet eagerly brushed your hair from your neck to expose it, then attached their soft lips to the sensitive skin at the same time, sloppily sucking dark hickeys into your neck from both angles. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, helplessly pressing your thighs together to create some friction as Mattheo and Lorenzo breathed heavily right into your ear, sending electric shivers down your spine.

They were both becoming more and more desperate, frantically sucking on your skin, the alcohol coursing through their bodies and intense desire to have you blurring their minds and causing them to lose all inhibitions. Mattheo groaned in pleasure, taking a not-so-subtle sniff as licked your neck like a popsicle, leaving a slick trail of saliva in his wake. He felt lightheaded, completely entranced by your sweet scent and the softness of your skin, his hand greedily squeezing your waist.

“Mmm, I can, like, taste your perfume… so sweet and… a bit… alcoholic, like a— like a pornstar martini.”

“What the—” Lorenzo instantly pulled away from your neck, glaring at Mattheo with a disgusted look on his face, his top lip curling in distaste and his brows furrowed in disbelief.

“Mattheo, shut the fuck up, will you?”

“What did I do now?!”

“You’re ruining the mood, saying weird shit like that.”

“Oh, fuck off—”

Before they could bicker any further, you abruptly grasped both their jaws at the same time and gently guided their heads towards yours into a sudden kiss, your soft lips pressing against theirs as their eyes reluctantly fluttered shut.

You could tell they were hesitant at first, both of them unwilling to touch each other in any way, but the drinks they had earlier were working its magic as you quickly felt their tongues eagerly moving against yours, their hesitation disappearing in a split second.

Soon, all three of you were completely entangled in the kiss, with one of their hands on the back of your head, drawing you in, while another firmly squeezed your bare thigh, as though trying to steady himself. The world around you seemed to fade for a moment as you pulled them closer and closer, spit mixing between you three, and the usually noisy living room was unusually quiet for once, except for the sounds of heavy breathing, soft moans, and wet lips smacking together.

The tension was only rising more, all of you growing more eager with each passing second, your tongues moving in perfect harmony with each other, as though you’d done this a thousand times before. And you were yearning for even more, all of you were, your body trembling with need as your arousal slicked your thighs, dripping onto the couch beneath you. The initial hesitation to touch each other had long faded by now, desire consuming you all, thickening the air with an overwhelming mix of lust and anticipation, until—

“Alright. that’s enough.” Theo broke the silence as he suddenly stood in front of the couch, casting a dark shadow over the three of you. He assertively took your wrist and forcefully pulled you up from your seat, while both boys stared up through drowsy eyes, their swollen, spit-covered lips glistening, and your lipstick messily smudged across their flushed faces, wearing dazed and slightly bewildered expressions that hinted at their drunken state.

In one swift, fluid movement, Theo effortlessly threw you over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised squeal from you followed by a drunken giggle, as he playfully slapped your ass with an amused, mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.

The moment Theo walked into your room, he roughly threw you onto your bed, your body bouncing slightly with the impact as you gazed up at him. In contrast to the chilly living room, the temperature here was more pleasant, with the lingering scent of flowery candles you lit earlier still filling the room.

Theo approached you with a dominant air, each long step creaking on the wooden floor, sending your heartbeat racing. When he finally stood before you, he traced his thumb gently over your burning cheek, before slipping it into your mouth, making you suck on it and he groaned at the sight, his eyes darkening. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

Heat flooded your core at the sudden praise, your lace panties now uncomfortably soaked with arousal. Drool trickled from the corners of your swollen lips, his thumb still deep in your mouth as you gazed up at him with half-open, dazed eyes. His tall, imposing figure loomed over you, casting a shadow as he tilted his head in approval, drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

He slowly pulled his thumb out of your mouth, a thin trail of spit still connecting your lips to his finger before he made his way to your bed, lowering himself onto it and motioning with his hand for you to come closer. His demeanour was power-driven, cocky, and lustful, as he leaned back against the headboard, his legs spread wide, his eyes devouring you. You crawled toward him on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage, your tits nearly spilling out of your shirt as you moved.

“You look so sexy right now, I might just keep you all to myself tonight.” he growled, his voice low and commanding. He didn’t waste much time before gripping the back of your head and eagerly pulling you into a fierce, hungry kiss, his tongue dominantly entering your mouth, not wanting to waste any of the little time he had alone with you.

In the background, you could faintly hear Mattheo and Lorenzo still in the living room, their voices muffled through the thin walls as they bickered once again, but you could make out a sharp “don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this!” and frustrated “you really can’t kiss, you know that? we’re never doing this shit again!”, followed by an exaggerated sound of gagging, causing you to giggle into the kiss.

Theo's warm hand slowly traced from your waist down to your ass, relishing the way you melted under his touch, while his other hand guided yours to his crotch, placing it over his already throbbing erection before he finally pulled away from the kiss.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” theo whispered in a low, sultry voice, the words sending a rush of heat through your body as you palmed him through his tight pants. “All this is for you, amore.”

Just then, you heard Mattheo and Lorenzo stumble down the hallway, their footsteps heavy and unsteady as they sprinted towards your room, clumsily knocking over whatever was in their way, too eager to even care, before finally stepping inside and hastily slamming the door shut.

The first view that met their eyes was your ass raised high in the air, angled perfectly towards them, your skirt having ridden up all the way over your waist, giving them a perfect view of your drenched underwear as you were bent over, hungrily kissing theo.

“Holy… fuck…”

“So— uhm, yeah, we’re— we’re here” they stammered, staring at the scene in front of them with their mouths half open and painfully hard boners visible through their pants, forming noticeable wet patches on the fabric.

Theo's hand on your ass then travelled to the waistband of your panties, teasingly sliding it down and tossing it carelessly to the floor, revealing your glistening cunt with your arousal dripping down the insides of your thighs. Both Mattheo and Lorenzo felt as if they were about to explode and could cum at the sight alone already, but were quickly snapped back to reality when you pulled away from Theo's lips and broke the silence.

“So? You’re gonna help me out or what?” you taunted impatiently with a teasing grin, feeling painfully empty as you squeezed around nothing. They both blinked erratically as they were pulled out of their trance and nodded their heads, eagerness evident in their expressions.

You soon felt both their roaming hands on your body, exploring every inch eagerly with fervent curiosity as they hastily undressed you until you were completely naked, making you more aroused with each tantalising second. You felt their hands everywhere— squeezing your ass, pinching your sensitive nipples, teasingly brushing against your aching cunt. It was driving you wild as you simultaneously unbuckled theo’s belt, staring up at him while he gazed back down at you with that smug, cocky smile that made your heart race.

“You think you can handle all of us at the same time, bella?” you nodded without a second thought, your mind completely consumed by the desperate need for all three of them as you freed Theo’s throbbing cock from his pants, instantly jumping against his stomach as precum leaked from the swollen tip.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” you parted your lips, letting a glistening trail of spit land on his cock as he intently watched you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, biting his lip in anticipation, before your mouth finally met the swollen tip. You gently swirled your tongue over the most sensitive part, causing him to let out a deep, guttural moan, meanwhile behind you, you felt a pair of fingers—you weren’t even sure whose—rubbing your clit in slow circles as you simultaneously heard the frantic unbuckling of belts.

“Just like that, baby, fuck!” Theo’s hand moved to your head, fingers threading through your hair before taking a fistful of it and pulling your hair back into a loose ponytail, ensuring it was out of your way. Your head slowly sank down, taking him all the way into your mouth until you felt the tip brush against the back of your throat and your lips pressed against his balls, causing Theo to throw his head back in pure bliss.

When you felt two fingers suddenly enter you, you moaned loudly around Theo, the sound vibrating against him as the fingers curled up perfectly against your sensitive g-spot. Feeling desperate for more, you pushed your ass back with the movements, instinctively trying to create more friction as the slick, lewd sounds of their digits pumping deep inside of your wet cunt filled the room, mixing with your soft whimpers of pleasure.

“Fuck, she’s so wet” you heard Mattheo groan from behind you as if you weren’t even in the room, his voice thick with desire as he quickly rubbed circles on your aching clit and watched Lorenzo finger you at the same time, causing your legs to shake uncontrollably, your arousal dripping all over their quick hands.

“She’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight— I can tell she wants more.” They were bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your release building with each passing second, but he was right— you wanted, no, needed more. You were craving to feel them, both of them.

“Yeah? You want more, baby? You want us to fuck you at the same time, hm?” Mattheo questioned, and you instantly pulled your lips from Theo with a soft plop, panting as soft ‘please’s desperately slipped from your spit-covered lips.

“Alright. But, uh, let me fuck her ass this time, yeah?” Lorenzo demanded at mattheo as he aggressively shoved him out of the way with his shoulder, causing mattheo to stumble to the side before retaliating with both hands pushing against his chest.

“Nah, it’s my fucking turn.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I'm telling you mate, it’s my tu— alright. rock, paper, scissors to settle this, yeah?”

“Hm, fine… ready? rock…pa—“

“Oh my god, you fucking idiots. Enzo, get under me now before I lose my patience!” you snapped, drunk exasperation lacing your voice while Theo lifted himself from beneath you, shaking his head in a mix of disapproval and amusement, a grin spreading across his face.

“Whatever.” Lorenzo sighed defeatedly as he replaced Theo’s position, pulling you on top of him, his aching cock already nudging at your entrance. Theo settled beside you on the bed, swiftly passing the lube from the nightstand to Mattheo, all while amusingly watching Lorenzo make an even bigger fool of himself.

“What? You don’t want to fuck me? ‘Cause you can go jerk off in the fucking corner if that’s what you’d rather do.” You hissed at Lorenzo, glaring down at him. His eyes momentarily widened in surprise, before he shook his head in playful defiance and let out a low chuckle. Abruptly, he gripped your jaw, pulling your face close to his, and kissed you hungrily as if apologising. “Oh, c’mon baby, you know I love your pussy.”

A small, satisfied smile uncontrollably tugged at the corners of your lips as he rubbed his cock along your folds, teasing you while gazing up at you with that mischievous, sly smirk of his. He then firmly gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and slowly pushed into your dripping cunt, hissing at the feeling of being swallowed by your warmth. You quickly steadied yourself with your hands resting on his bare chest, feeling him deep inside of you and completely stretching you out, yet still craving more.

“You ready baby?” Mattheo asked from behind you as he spread your cheeks, gazing down with hungry, lustful eyes. “Mhm, please.” You begged, your voice a breathless whisper as you heard him pop the cap of the lube off before hastily rubbing himself with it and slowly pushing into you.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. The feeling of being stretched out by both of their cocks at the same time was so intoxicating, it left you breathless and made your heart race. It was simply indescribable how good it really felt. The sensation caused you to instinctively arch your back as you clutched the sheets tightly, consumed by sheer pleasure, every nerve ending in your body tingling with electric intensity. Mattheo was now fully inside you as well and patiently waited for you to adjust to the intense feeling.

Theo then firmly gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as you stared up at him through barely open eyes and furrowed brows. “Does that feel good, hm? Having two dicks inside of you?” you nodded with your lips slightly parted in ecstasy, unable to form any coherent sentences.

“C’mon bella, use your words.”

“Feels— feels so fucking good, fuck!”

“Hm, that’s more like it. Open up baby, ‘cause we aren’t done yet.”

You obediently parted your lips wider to let Theo enter your mouth, his hand pressing against the back of your head guiding you deeper as he let out an almost primal groan, throwing his head back at the sensation of your warm mouth. At the same time, both Lorenzo and Mattheo began to move at a slow, deliberate pace, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the heavenly feeling of them stretching you out completely from both holes.

Strings of muffled curse words slipped from your lips as Theo mercilessly fucked your face, his piercing eyes staring down at you as he bit his lip, a low growl of pleasure escaping him. The other two boys quickly began to increase their pace, causing you to see stars as they could feel each other move against one another through the thin flesh that separated them, only intensifying the immense pleasure they were already feeling.

“Look at her— she can barely handle it, having three dicks inside of her.” Mattheo taunted, his hands tightly gripping the soft flesh of your ass as he relentlessly slammed into your tight hole at a brutal pace, causing you to moan loudly around Theo's throbbing erection. Your vision blurred as Lorenzo's hand moved to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it possessively, choking you just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

“You’re taking us so well, pretty girl. Doing so good for us.” Lorenzo growled as he gazed deep into your hazy eyes. Your head felt like it was spinning from the intense sensation, both of them pounding into you at a merciless pace, filling both your holes so deliciously while theo thrust into your mouth, making you gag on his thick cock.

The pornographic sounds of heavy breathing, lewd moans, and loud skin smacking completely filled the room, and you were certain you’d hear complaints from your nagging neighbours the next day, but right now, your mind was too clouded by the pleasure to even care. The feeling was beyond words and you couldn’t get enough.

“Such a dirty fuckin’ slut. One dick just wasn’t enough for you, huh? Sei tutta nostra.” Theo taunted as he slid his hand beneath you to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit while maintaining his brutal pace.

It was becoming too much as both Lorenzo and Mattheo continuously hit your most sensitive spots, quickly sending you spiralling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You moaned loudly, your eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy while your nails dug deep into Lorenzo’s chest. You nearly collapsed on top of him, but theo quickly caught you, holding you up by your jaw with a gentle yet firm grip.

Not much later, Theo and Lorenzo reached their orgasms as well, both emptying themselves deep inside your cunt and mouth while Mattheo pulled out and came on your ass, feeling his warm sperm on your skin in thick spurts, painting you white.

The four of you froze for a moment, trying to catch your breath, chests heaving up and down as if the room was spinning around you from both the aftermath of the orgasm combined with the intoxicated state you were all still very much in. Theo gently wiped the excess sperm from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, hazily smiling down at you.

Lorenzo was the first to break the silence, much to your annoyance, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he leaned back against the headboard. “So, uhm… roommates with benefits, huh?”

“NO! Stop trying to make that a thing!”

“Nice way to instantly ruin the mood, mate.”

“No offense but I’d rather cut off my own dick than refer to any of you as that.”

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

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not-neverland06 · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him.

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned.

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out.

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much. “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling.

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing.

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much.

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted.

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be.

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover.

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark.

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack.

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.”

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you.

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified.

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do.

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up.

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you.

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her.

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both.

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it.

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through.

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground.

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat.

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest.

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand.

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look.

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings.

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped.

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott.

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at.

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black.

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you.

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple.

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage.

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged.

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?”

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you.

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation.

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time.

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice.

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott.

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most.

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand.

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens.

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior.

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated.

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him.

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him.

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you.

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire.

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams.

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead.

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you.

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess.

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off.

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense.

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal.

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag.

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you.

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip.

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you.

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known.

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions.

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him.

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad.

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern.

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue.

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room.

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off.

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby.

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another.

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up.

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought.

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all.

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest.

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to.

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her.

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him.

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him.

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him.

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long.

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again.

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire.

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated.

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes.

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye.

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you.

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow.

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position.

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt.

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared.

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at.

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever.

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor.

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain.

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere.

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had.

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea.

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said.

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love.

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him.

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up.

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order.

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants.

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him.

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips.

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you.

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass.

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #x men #x men x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman x reader #anon

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deanmarywinchester · 1 month ago

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hobbies include: close reading the Redwall series to answer my most burning questions. such as:

- can I replicate any of these delicious-sounding foodstuffs and would they in fact be delicious if I was able to

- corollary to the above: are we just supposed to read “oat cream” and “nut cheese” every time we see the words “cream” and “cheese”? I think so. bc if not, what tha hell are their livestock animals

- what is Society like? I don’t think we ever see a Mouse City or even Mouse Town though we do see castles and obviously an abbey. are we supposed to believe that most creatures are either in wandering bands or these societies based around a single structure (castle/abbey?)

- they appear to have an idea of what currency is (the bad guys always want treasure — maybe just to have, not to sell? but less ambiguous is some dialogue I just read, “acorn for your thoughts?” “you can have them for free”) but again, we never see anyone using money or making goods for the market. is this after the fall of Mouse Capitalism? are the bad guys (the idea of rat pirates gives me a headache, vis a vis the political/economic systems needed to power piracy) raiding preindustrial mouse societies for treasure/meat?

- corollary to the above: the abbey creatures have oats and wheat but we don’t see anybody farming or trading for farm goods on a large enough scale. is the abbey “orchard” really a like an indigenous forest farm of mixed foodstuffs? is that possible if you live in the same place the whole year or only if you travel each season? I have to do some googling

- both the lack of mixed-species families and the idea of mixed-species families give me a headache. has a squirrel never fallen for a handsome otter? what is the culture shock like if you marry into a subterranean mole family?

- this is the least “important” question but this read through I’ve been desperately trying to figure out What Size Everything Else Is. i’ve come to the conclusion that everything other than animals are at mouse scale, given that they can make seaworthy vessels their own size (a mouse sized vessel with real-world-sized waves seems impossible) and pick and eat apples and plums. but so far it seems like they’ve avoided mentioning how tall trees are — like a person compared to a tree or a mouse compared to a tree?

#rereading The Bellmaker because I own it and have been in a dire reading slump #but this is all based on that and my childhood recollections so I could be wrong #my posts #reading tag

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satoruxx · 5 months ago

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you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

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kooktrash · 10 months ago

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lost & found | jeon jungkook

summary:your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

➣ genre/au: jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], mid-20’s friendships. what kind of au is this? smut, plot

➣18.7k words

warnings: heavy plot. smut. a little bit of angst if you squint. tae is oc defender. shy oc. jk is an old college classmate. oc and jk got complicated, misunderstood history :(. oc is kinda insecure? bathroom sex. teasing. foreplay [f and m receiving]. very neeeedddy, long time waited sex.. unprotected. jk fucks oc on the counter, on the door. jk is tatted up but not in his college days. heavy makeout. breast play. fingering. dirty talk. oc goes down on jk as a thx 🤧 jk dated oc’s bestie but there’s HISTORY. oc’s bestie is the real villain im sorry. took advantage of two insecure college kids >:( love lost, love found vibes. just read I swear it’s not that bad 😭 no cheating. FRIEND BREAK UPS. oc gets confident toward the end

song inspo: bff — jesse

As you settle into adulthood, you learn a few things about friendships. There tends to be a slight divide between those you’ve known since you were young and those you’ve collected over the years. Some might value the friendships they’ve held longer more than those that are more recent but for others, what matters is the trust that comes with friendship no matter with whom it might be with. You’re somewhere in between, you think.

You have people like Taehyung who you’ve only recently started to get to know and have had a chance to grow close with. He doesn’t know everything about you yet but he doesn’t need to, he seems to understand enough now to be an important person in your current life. He’s the kind of friend you're thankful you’ve met on some random occasion.

Then you have someone like your best friend, Miyoung. You’re not sure the last time you had ever been truly without her at your side. From your earlier school years to college, to now when you’re both settled into what would essentially be your careers and private lives. She’s… she's special to you in a way that you're not sure you could ever find in someone else—or at least that’s what she says?

There hasn’t been a time where it wasn’t the two of you practically glued together at the hip and you credit her for her outgoing nature that always seemed to balance with your more introverted demeanor. Of course it didn't mean you couldn’t make friends without her [take Taehyung for example] but she’s always seemed to gravitate people toward you with her energy. That’s why you're not at all surprised by tonight’s events and how everyone seemed surprised that you came alone.

”Honestly, I’m happy you made it, it feels like we haven’t seen each other in so long,” Your friend, Hoseok, pointed out as he led you to the private area of the lounge bar where it seemed like a reunion was taking place, “When Miyoung said she wasn’t going to make it, I thought you probably weren’t going to show up and—“

”Is that what you would have preferred?” You asked with a teasing smile as he began to stumble over his words, attempting to backtrack.

“What? Y/n, don’t you know I’ve been desperately enamored by you since your first year? Don’t make such crass comments,” He joked back, helping you out of your coat as you grew closer to the room filled with loud chatter. He led you with hands on your shoulders and said, “And between us, I’m a little happy she didn’t come. I wasn’t really in the mood for this to turn into a Battle of the Exes fighting ground.”

”What do you mean?” You barely had time to ask as you entered the room where an explosion of your name was heard by old college classmates of yours who all seemed on the border of tipsy and in a good mood. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at everyone at once till your eyes fell on the person in question.

He didn’t hesitate to meet your gaze with equal surprise as you sat across from him, just one person down the line. Immediately the people next to you tried sparking a conversation and you used it as a distraction to keep from gawking at him. When Miyoung told you she wouldn’t make it, you debated coming yourself but after some begging from Hoseok you decided to come along. Despite your best friend not joining, you're kind of glad she didn’t. Hoseok is right, it would have been a battlefield and you did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

“Y/n.”

Ignore, maybe? Just ignore and maybe he’ll forget trying to talk to you and your head won't be on the chopping block. You looked down the table at some of the other people you remember from campus activities or long lectures and tried to ignore the growing smile you could see on his face from the corner of your eye.

“Hungry?” The person next to you asked as he made you look his way. There were platters of hand food across the bar table and you happily took whatever Jimin offered. As much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but look across the table to make sure it really was who you thought it was,

Jeon Jungkook.

Better known as your best friend’s ex boyfriend.

Or worse, the first guy you liked when you started University.

”Hi,” he said in a low voice, catching you in the middle of staring at him. In your defense, he seemed so different—more matured if you will. Now he was covered in tattoos and piercings, he lost that sort of boyish charm but clearly gained something else along the way. He was buff and bigger, more intimidating yet alluring? Safe to say he didn’t look like the ‘Boy Next Door’ you had a crush on in your English seminar.

“You’re here,” was all you could think to say back, giving up on your sorry attempt at ignoring him for no real reason other than saving yourself from an awkward encounter.

”So are you,” Jungkook bit into his bottom lip as he looked at you closely. How is it that someone could look so different but the same all at once? In your gaze he could still see that curiosity in everything that he remembered from back then when he would spend lectures wondering what was on your mind. In your appearance, he can see how much you’ve changed physically. They were surely small differences in everyone else’s eyes but he always had a tendency to pay too much attention to you and it would get him in trouble.

You gave him a polite nod in response to his blatant observation that matched yours and attempted to shift your attention elsewhere but he didnt let it get too far. He cleared his throat, “How have you been?”

“Me?” You asked, “Okay, I guess. Busy with work.”

“So I’ve heard, you’re in marketing now, right? What happened to your writing?” Jungkook asked, seeming genuinely curious to know. He didn’t care for the conversations happening around him more than he did hearing your response now that you looked more willing to give him one.

“It wouldn’t have paid the bills—You remember my writing?” You asked, surprise evident in your features that he couldn’t help but smile.

It was hard for him to forget his biggest competition at the time. He let out a small sigh, ready to go on about being unable to forget a certain piece you wrote when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Yoongi stood over him, “Smoke break?”

Say no, he thought. Jungkook could easily reject the offer and continue what he was going to say. Without meaning to, he looked back at you, but you had excused yourself from the table in the blink of an eye. Nodding hesitantly, he grabbed his jacket and followed his friend out while he wondered where you went so suddenly.

You were hiding in the washroom when you got the call from Miyoung, like she had a sixth sense telling her to reach out.

“So how is it? Is it as boring as I said it’d be?” Miyoung asked as she waited in line for some nightclub she was going to with some of her various other friends.

“Um, kind of?” You said without much thought—knowing it was what she wanted to hear. In reality, it was fun. You were greeted warmly that it washed away your earlier worries and you’re being taken care of by old friends you didn't get to talk to as much. Not to mention, you’re seeing Jungkook again after a couple years of hearing and thinking of nothing about the guy, so you don’t actually think it's boring.

Miyoung snorted, “Figures, good thing I didn’t go. I could not sit through more than an hour of everyone going on and on about what they’ve been up to. I mean, yeah I miss Hobi and stuff but I could see him whenever, y’know? Who all showed up?”

“I think everyone,” You admitted with a nervous bite of your lip. It was now or never. You tell her that it seems like Jungkook has come to visit or has come back to stay and you’re not sure how she’ll take that. She might even march over here just to tell him how she's felt these last two years and chances are that’ll ruin the easy vibe for everyone else. You leaned against the stall door and talked with her.

“So you’re back,” Yoongi asked with a smirk as he took a drag from his cigarette, “My Golden Boy’s back? Someone pinch me.”

“Funny guy,” Jungkook said sarcastically as he looked out onto the busy street. Yoongi shrugged, turning toward the bar window looking around to see the group, “Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Yeah, it’s great seeing everyone again,” Jungkook told him casually, flicking the end of his cigarette and watching the ash fall to the cold cement of the street.

“Want to know who surprised me tonight?” Yoongi asked, looking over at him to see if his expression would change at all, “Y/n.”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, dropping ash to the ground, “Y/n never comes out to these sorts of things, and if she does come it’s usually with Miyoung but she came by herself tonight.

“Yeah…” Jungkook zoned out a bit as he thought about it more, “Why doesn’t she meet up with you guys often?”

“You know Y/n doesn't really go out,” Yoongi said, “And she’s busy with work, at least that’s what Hobi says. I don’t know, when Hobi said Miyoung wasn’t coming tonight we both expected Y/n to not show too but… hey, aren’t you happy she isn’t here?”

“I don’t really care either way,” Jungkook confessed truthfully, “But do you know if… y’know, you might have heard something about Y/n and if she’s still seeing someone or—“

“Oh God,” Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh as he put his cigarette out, Jungkook doing the same, “It’s been like three years, man.”

Jungkook watched him laugh as he walked off leaving him to follow, “What?”

Yoongi held the door open for him, “You know what, but I’ll answer your question, anyway. Last I heard Y/n is single, so what now?”

He waited for Jungkook to respond but he wasn’t listening anymore. There were too many things on his mind that he needed to work out before you came back to the table.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You just got here,” Jimin said to you as he held your hand in his to stop you from leaving, “One more drink.”

“It’s late,” You tried to say, “I’ve got to be up early.”

“Liar, it’s a Saturday night, Y/n. Sit your ass back down,” Hobi said with a firm voice making you sit down immediately. He flashed you a cute smile before asking everyone if they wanted another round of drinks.

“So, what were we talking about earlier?” Jungkook asked, trying to get you to talk to him again, “Your writing? Yeah, how can I forget it? Remember we used to read each other’s essays all the time before… well.”

Before he broke up with your best friend.

“Yeah, I remember,” You admitted, trying to find something to say. What kind of questions would Miyoung want to know? What do you want to know? What should you prepare your friend to know? “How long are you visiting?”

“Actually, I just moved back, I got a job doing graphic design for a local company,” Jungkook told you with the hint of a smile, “It’s my first time meeting up with everyone again.”

You let yourself indulge in small talk with him here and there but usually when he started it. The night had been fine, you enjoyed your time but after a while all you wanted to do was go home and Hoseok couldn’t make you stay any longer. You ended your night wondering if you should go out more.

Everything has a backstory, right? How it all started and yours seems pretty tacky. You spent the first couple years of University doing what you had to do in school and letting Miyoung drag you to whatever outing she had on the weekends. Some time in your third year, you joined this English class with the most boring, monotonous professor ever and that’s where you met Jungkook.

In all honesty, you thought he was cute from the get go. Sitting through three hours of a boring lecture led people to do odd things and one of those for you was staring at the cute guy who sat down a couple rows from you. It was just a little thing you did to pass time so you never expected anything to actually happen from it.

Then one day most of the seats were taken [naturally, it was a large class] and he seemed to have been running late because his usual cycle of seats were all taken except the one next to yours. Despite all those times you would find yourself ogling the stranger, when he was right next to you, you didn’t say a single word.

It was Jungkook who spoke first and it was just to ask if you could help him catch up. That day you were supposed to read someone else’s prompt and revise it and you chose each other which then trickled down to a routine of it. Without speaking much, he would sit next to you or silently save you a seat whenever you were running late and the one time you decided to switch it up and sit elsewhere…

Well, he was practically pouting the whole day.

It had been a nearly perfect set up to what could have been if you just allowed yourself to go for things but it didn’t happen that way.

One random Tuesday night, Miyoung wanted to go out for some cheap drinks and you found yourselves at a bar not too far from campus where you ran into a senior in one of your classes. Yoongi had come up to you first, just greeting you and making small talk when Jungkook who apparently had come with him, recognized you too.

They drank with you and Miyoung for a bit and you honestly thought it had been fun. You had never had real conversations with him outside of school work and it was nice to have more people to hang with that it just felt natural. Though at some point through the night Miyoung had gotten kind of flirty. She claims she assumed you had wanted Yoongi and not Jungkook and practically called dibs on him despite meeting him for the first time that night.

When she made her intents obvious, you couldn’t help but backtrack.

You always considered yourself pretty self aware about yourself. There was nothing special really and when you compare yourself to Miyoung there just isn’t much competition.

She was the perfect Prom Queen type who always had the nicest clothes or the cutest boyfriends, the best awards and most interesting stories. The amount of guys she would pull who you didn’t even have a chance with was insane. And though you might sound bitter, you’re not. You’ve never been the type to want the spotlight or attention and being best friends with someone so damn perfect was that you could always stay in the shadows.

So when she started flirting with Jungkook, you didn’t really notice his awkward glances or how he shied away from her proximity. You only saw how he smiled politely and listened to her go on and on about how great she is and assumed he was into her like all the others had been.

You tried to act normal after that, you would talk to him every now and then and never questioned why he stopped talking to you as much until he started dating Miyoung but you weren’t bitter. You were understanding.

It made sense he would date her. She was beautiful and smart and someone people pine for. It was a given that that would happen so once again, you didn’t take it personal.

They dated for a couple months [nothing serious at all] and then he dumped her which resulted in Miyoung practically forbidding you from even looking his way at all. You completed your last year without thinking about him despite the various mutual friends you shared and went on with your life when he moved.

That was the backstory and why you felt so awkward seeing him the other night.

You haven’t told Miyoung yet because there’s a high chance she won’t care at all and would get annoyed that you even thought to bring it up. Your friend is very pretty and she likes being in relationships so she’s been in quite a few since they dated and probably doesn’t care to be reminded at all.

The only person you’ve told is Taehyung.

“But did you at least have fun?” He asked as the two of you sat at a small restaurant for lunch. You nodded your head, “Yeah, it was alright. It was just weird, for me at least.”

“Why?” Taehyung asked as he dug into his meal, stuffing his mouth with no care in the world, “I mean it’s obvious everyone was happy to see you and didn’t want you to leave. Who cares if Miyoung didn’t go, clearly it didn’t matter to anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything, taking your time to enjoy your meal as you drifted off in thought. He is right, you know that sometimes it’s just in your head and you overthink things. You always feel like you’re boring to others so it’s natural for you to assume no one would be happy to see just you and not your bubble of joy best friend. There has to be a certain level of comfort between you and another person to show personality and it’s rare people get to see it.

“But how’d it go with that guy? Did he ask you about her?” Taehyung asked with a hint of curiosity.

“Not that I can remember. I don’t know, it was kind of awkward but we talked a bit,” You told him honestly, “He just moved back down so that’s cool I guess.”

Taehyung looked at you skeptically but you avoided his gaze, trying to distract yourself with your phone.

yoongi: throwing a welcome back party for jk this weekend, u coming?

you: idk, if I’m free

yoongi: … ur always free🤒

yoongi: just say yes, bring whoever u want

you: but is he ok with me going

yoongi: y wouldn’t he be

yoongi: he’s the one who asked me to make sure u come

you: okkkkkk 🥹

“Tae, can you come with me to this party please?” You asked, immediately showing your friend your text messages leaning across the table for him to see them clearly.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed as he read through the texts carefully, “Jungkook is the ex boyfriend, right? Why’s he so interested in you going?”

“He’s not,” you said, “He’s probably just doing it to be nice, since everyone I know will be there.”

“What if he’s… y’know, interested?” Taehyung asked curiously and you nearly choked on your drink.

“No, oh my god,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “We were just classmates and we stopped talking after he dumped Miyoung so—“

“Yeah but did you ever stop to think ‘hm, I’m the one who knew this guy first and then Miyoung went and snatched him from me before I even got a chance to explore’,” Taehyung said in a high pitched voice, presumably mocking yours. You reached over to playfully shove his shoulder making him grin mischievously.

“What? No, it wasn’t like that at all,” You tried to say, “Him and I didn’t even really talk until the night he met her at the bar and… no, that’s crazy. He liked Miyoung right away.”

Taehyung just sighed, giving up on trying to get through to you, “If you say so, but who’s the one he approached first? Because I can tell you right now it wasn’t her.”

Despite how he expresses himself when he talks about your best friend, he doesn’t dislike her. He thinks Miyoung is alright, maybe a little too much for his tastes but that doesn’t mean anything. He understands the two of you are really close and although he has had many chances to befriend her too, he just hasn’t.

He’ll talk to her if you force them to hang out together but he would never go out of his way to be her friend. It might sound bad but Taehyung is pretty protective over you and rightfully so, he feels.

He doesn’t want to badmouth one of his closest friends but you have a tendency to overthink things. You don’t realize how great you are and make yourself seem smaller and he thinks Miyoung and other people like her in your life are at fault. He’s heard some of the things she says to you and it’s like you hold her up so highly there’s no room for you to see how pretty, smart, and talented you are. And before anyone gets the wrong idea, he’s not in love with you or anything.

You’re too good for him so he gave up on that idea long ago.

Plus, now that he’s able to connect some of those pieces from when you were in Uni, some things are clicking into place for him. Miyoung tends to dim your light a bit, or copy something you do and claim it as her own and when he hears this little backstory between all of your old college friends… he just can’t help but wonder if Jungkook was one of those things she claimed for herself.

With that thought in mind, he agreed to go with you to this party and see for himself what is there and what could be. He just wants what’s best for you and for you to be able to go and get it without worrying you’re not good enough or stepping on anyone’s toes.

When Friday night came, your apartment was filled with loud music and even louder complaints coming from one person in particular. Taehyung was just listening to you and Miyoung go back and forth about tonight’s plans and it got to the point where you couldn’t say anything but the truth about what you would be doing tonight.

“It’s a welcome back party for Jungkook,” You said, trying your hardest not to let your voice sound strained.

“What? When did he get back?” Miyoung asked, sitting up from your bed and tossing your pillow off her lap, “Like he moved back?”

“Yeah, I guess not too long ago,” You said with a shrug, looking in your mirror to see if you liked the way you looked or not, “I don’t know, Yoongi is the one who invited me.”

“Why didn’t I know? Why wasn’t I invited?” Miyoung asked, turning to Taehyung like he would have the answers.

“Probably because you’re his ex girlfriend and you ditched out on their little reunion so you could party,” Taehyung said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yeah but, why’d they ask Y/n? She’s not even friends with him,” Miyoung said with a slight scoff, “You’re not actually going right? We could go out, just the three of us. You already hung out with them, you and I haven’t gone out in weeks, let’s just do our own thing. Unless you’re trading me in for all of them.”

You looked at her with apologetic eyes. You’ve been busy with work recently and she is right. The last people you hung out with aside from Taehyung were all of them two weekends ago so it would only be fair to hang out with her this time. It shouldn’t mean anything that you were invited and that Jungkook wanted to make sure you were going. Miyoung was supposed to be your best friend so how could you go to a party she wasn’t invited to?

Just as you were going to give in and shoot Yoongi a text that you weren’t going to make it, Taehyung spoke up for you. “Why don’t you just come with? One of them said Y/n can bring whoever she wants and I’m already going so it’s not like you have to be by yourself. Plus, aren’t the rest of them supposed to be your friends too? Y/n already agreed.”

“Why didn’t you ask me first?”

“I didn’t realize I needed permission,” You couldn’t help but sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed to comfort her, “We can just stop by, have a drink or two and leave if it’s lame. Come on.”

After much convincing, the three of you arrive at Yoongi’s place which was a small house with good outdoor space and the inside was packed with people already. The amount of party goers made you anxious but at the same time slightly thrilled that surely the attention would never be on you with so many people around.

“Y/n! Miyoung!” Namjoon spotted you two first and he threw his arms around you both with a grin, “Surprised to see you here, Mimi.”

“Yeah, probably because I was the only one not invited,” Miyoung said bitterly, making Namjoon take a drink from his cup and look away nervously.

“Let’s get you guys drinks then,” He said with an awkward clear of his throat looking to Taehyung, “What’s up, I’m Namjoon.”

“Taehyung,” he said, following you to the drinks table. The music played loudly and there were a lot of people having a good time that it was somewhat easy to try and blend in and act normal. Miyoung had a pout on her face, looking around worried but Namjoon brightened her mood and every now and then another friend would stop by to greet her. Taehyung mostly clung to you and only drifted away when a friend would spark conversation with you but you were thankful he was around.

“Y/n,” someone called out to you from across the room. You couldn’t make them out through the crowd of people and it took a while before you spotted Jungkook making his way to your direction.

“Jungkook,” you said with a nervous breath, looking around for Miyoung but she was off with Namjoon talking about god knows what.

“How long have you been here? Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook asked, slightly more energetic than usual. His hair was messy, with strands out of place, he wore a basic black tee and baggy jeans so why did he look good? It’s still hard for you to wrap your mind around who this is.

He’s gotten so muscular and just… more intimidating with his tattoo sleeve and piercings and it’s so unexpected but in a good way.

“I, um, you know, I just assumed you were busy,” you lied, looking around for one of your friends. Taehyung was at the table getting a drink and he’ll be back soon to save you before Miyoung looks around.

Jungkook found himself looking around too, as if he could see what you did but he came up short, “Did you come with anyone?”

“Yeah, Miyoung and a friend of mine,” you rushed the words out in hopes of sounding casual but Jungkook didn’t even bat an eye.

“So what are you doing alone?” He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, “Actually, there’s something that’s been on my mind since last time I saw you and I uh… I haven’t had the chance to say it.”

You blinked nervously, looking up at him and how close he was to you, “What is it?”

He licked his lips, playing with his lip rings shyly, “Well, I was wondering if you would like to get together some time, just you and I. We’ve never had the chance to hang out.”

“We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?” You asked, feigning naivety that almost seemed teasing. In truth, you could sense what he was possibly asking and you needed him to stop. There was no reason for you two to hang out alone, no matter how much the thought made you giddy.

“I guess,” Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyebrows knit together in confusion. He took another step closer to you, hand on the wall behind you for support. , “But I was still hoping… I know it’s probably kind of awkward but we’re grown, right? We can get together without worrying about anyone else.”

“Who says it’s because I’m worried?” You asked with a hint of playfulness in an attempt to ease some of the growing tension caused by the way he looked at you, “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

That made him crack a smile, “All of a sudden?”

“Yes, all of a sudden,” another voice added in from behind him and you jumped at the sound. Jungkook didn’t bother to turn around, he was more focused on the way you tried to look behind him and meet Miyoung’s glare.

“Where’d you run off to?” You asked, pushing past him making Jungkook slide his hand off the wall and roll his eyes at the disruption.

“Somewhere I felt wanted,” she said bitterly, eyes on Jungkook as she spoke to you, “Let’s go, I’m bored.”

“I thought you were having a good ti—“

“I’m not, Y/n,” Miyoung almost snapped, “You said we could have a drink and go. We’ve been here for like forever and I want to leave. That’s what we agreed on.”

“Okay, jeez, let’s go then,” You said with a sigh, “Let me find Taehyung.”

“Go, then,” Miyoung said, making you take a deep breath, trying to tell yourself she had a right to be upset. She didn’t want you [as her best friend] talking to her ex boyfriend. And you did say you didn’t have to stick around for long…

“What?” Miyoung asked Jungkook with a roll of her eyes as she caught him staring, “Did I interrupt something?”

“You still don’t know how to speak to people like they’re human beings,” Jungkook said simply, “And it’s sad to watch.”

“Screw you,” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re just mad I stopped you from trying to ask my best friend out. My friends are off limits.”

“She was my friend too,” Jungkook said as a reminder, “And I can do whatever I want. You’re just childish.”

She snorted, “Right, says the guy who fumbled me.”

He couldn’t seem to act mature anymore and before he stop himself he said, “Remember, you’re not the one I wanted anyway.”

He walked off without much care for how she felt and found his other friends, wondering who it was you ran off to find.

“Tae, can we go now?” You asked your friend. Taehyung had found himself a group of people to entertain with his stories and had nearly forgotten who he had tagged along with until you pulled him to the side.

“Uh, okay,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, “What happened? I thought everyone was having a good time.”

“Miyoung wants to leave,” You said with a small sigh, “She saw me talking to Jungkook and I just don’t want it to become this big problem so can we please just go?”

Taehyung placed an arm on your shoulder, leading you to Miyoung who waited at the door, “Yeah, sure let’s go.”

The car had only stayed silent for the first half of the drive to Miyoung’s apartment. Somewhere between the last red light and this short stretch of road, a fire had been lit underneath her which made her start up again.

“So what was that back there?” Miyoung asked from the backseat and you debated just acting asleep or like you were too drunk to listen properly. She leaned forward, looking at you closely.

“What do you mean?” You asked nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Miyoun said with an annoyed tone, “First you get invited to a party for my ex boyfriend and next thing I know the two of you are whispering in the corner looking like you’re about to kiss and like I’m not even in the room.”

Taehyung had to bite his tongue from responding, worried that if he spoke too soon it would only make you seem more weak to her antics. He just tapped his fingers against the window trying to keep silent

“Miyoung,” You started with a sigh, “You’re overreacting. It was nothing, we’re friends—“

“Since when?” Miyoung scoffed, “You’re supposed to be my friend, Y/n.”

“I am,” You said defensively, “And if you want to talk about this tomorrow then that’s fine but right now it’s late and we’ve all been having a decent time so don’t ruin it…”

“Y/n’s right, let’s end the night on a good note,” Taehyung finally said but he seemed to go ignored by you two.

“You’re not though, real friends wouldn’t flirt with their best friend’s ex boyfriend—“

“You two dated for less than five months and it was years ago,” You blurted out, “I knew him before that so don’t act like I’m betraying you.”

“Oh my god, I knew you’d still be bitter I started seeing him,” Miyoung said, suddenly making you hide your face in your hand from exhaustion. “I didn’t know you had a thing for him back then. You should’ve said something instead of holding it against me like you do everything else.”

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but scoff.

Miyoung’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “You know exactly what I’m talking about and it’s not fair.”

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers clenched around the steering wheel unable to bite his tongue any longer, “Miyoung I don’t think you’re being fair. You’re clearly drunk and you just want to arg—“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” She snapped, slurring on her words a bit and not even realizing the car came to a stop in front of her building, “I’m not even talking you and you can stop acting like Y/n’s bodyguard because last time I checked she’s a grown adult who could speak for herself. God, I swear everyone is the same. Just because Y/n is boring and insecure, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to speak for herself.”

“Get out. We’re at your place so just go,” Taehyung said, annoyed with the harshness she was projecting on you, “Y/n might put up with you but I won’t.”

With an irritated scoff, she swung the back door open, “Fine, screw you guys too.”

The door slammed shut as she stormed up to her apartment and Taehyung waited till she was gone to say, “Fuck, what did that girl drink? Y/n, why do you put up with that? Hey.”

You stayed silent for a moment letting her words sink in. Whatever, she yelled and threw a tantrum, that’s fine, that’s normal. But she seriously thinks you’re just a bore and maybe you’re starting to believe it too. If it weren’t for you always being cautious over how she might feel about you and what you do, you wouldn’t seem so boring.

Or was that just how you were and now you’re trying to say it’s because of Miyoung? Jeez, you just can’t seem to make up your mind about anything but all you know is that… you’re not boring. Well, you don’t have to be. If she wants to think that always backing up whatever she says makes you boring, then maybe it’s time you just do what you want even if she doesn’t like it.

“Tae, can you do me a favor,” You finally said, making him look over at you curiously. The car is still parked in front of Miyoung’s place and he’s been waiting for you to speak anyway, “What?”

“Take me back to the party please.”

Miyoung was wrong, if you were boring it’s because she made you boring. Anytime you did anything on your own, she always had to ruin it and you just let her. You just let Miyoung monopolize your time and make you her right-hand in everything. You’ve never gotten the chance to truly put yourself out there because you firmly believed you didn’t compare.

Maybe you needed to stop overthinking and just do what you want, be confident—or at least act like you are.

“Y/n! You’re back?” Yoongi asked once you made it to the party again, “Let me tell you, I was mad because I thought you left before even talking to me.”

“I’m so very sorry,” You said playfully, “But do you know where Jungkook is?”

He seemed to freeze up, surprise written on his face and he looked down at you questioning. You held his gaze, watching the wheels turn in his head before he was blurting out, “I don’t know. The bathroom?”

You blinked nervously, letting him slip away from you when someone called for him and were left standing there. Your mind was racing with ideas yet you couldn’t think of what to do.

What did you expect coming back?

What does this prove?

You feel anxious and insecure and maybe she was right, you’re boring and you don’t even speak up or do anything exciting.

“Jungkook?” You called out to him as you walked down the hall of doors, knocking or opening whichever door you landed on. You got to the last door with a bated breath, realizing it’s a bedroom and closed yourself in.

Your sense of bravado had been short lived. Whatever burst of confidence you had was completely gone now that you sat alone in the guest room contemplating just going home or not.

In all honesty, this was stupid from the very beginning. You let Miyoung’s words get to you and you acted before you could think. You didn’t need to prove anything. Plus, you don’t want Jungkook. Maybe once before you did… but not… anymore?

God, you felt like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Your heart dropped with a sense of disbelief as you looked up. The once pitch black room was illuminated by a block of light from the open bathroom door. Jungkook stood at the doorway, brows furrowed as he looked at who sat on the bed.

“Jungkook,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“You’re back?” He asked, looking you up and down with a hint of suspicion. You nodded your head silently, making him blink with confusion.

You stood up from the bed suddenly, “Are you done in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” he moved out of your way, watching you closely as you closed the door in his face before he could say anything else.

Maybe this had been a sign that you didn’t want to talk to him but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the privacy in the bedroom to go out where everyone else was. He could hear the faucet running but oblivious to how you wet your face to try and snap yourself out of this strange mood before drying off. When you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him standing there right in front of you.

“Everything alright?” He asked, halfway in the doorway, walking forward making you step deeper into the bathroom.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you said with a strained smile, backing away, “Just—what about you? Has it been fun, this is all for you, right?”

“I guess,” Jungkook shrugged, “But it would have been more fun if you stayed.”

“Good thing I came back then,” you couldn’t help but laugh nervously, leaning against the sink counter.

“Good thing,” Jungkook licked his dry lips, “Y/n, about what I was saying earlier… I would honestly like for us together sometime, just the two of us.”

A small, shy smile appeared on your lips as you thought about earlier and repeated yourself playfully, “We’re hanging out right now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” he blinked in confusion, looking down at you and struggling to keep his composure. Your response was a bit of a let down since he hoped you had come back to see him and he should have known better. You would never take him seriously after his mess with Miyoung and he was always reaching for the stars thinking it could work out.

Plus, you’re too good for him. You always have been.

He can’t explain why, but he’s always felt a sense of ease with you, like everything was perfect. As shameful as it is to admit, Miyoung had reasons to be worried.

When they dated… well, it didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time. Miyoung was aware of it too and he looks back on it now and realizes how wrong he was then. It was wrong for him to think about you when he was never able to have you, and he will be much less now.

“Am I wrong? Is it not just the two of us now?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and looking to the bathroom door which was closed some time ago.

“Y/n,” he said it softly but you could sense his warning tone, like you were going to get yourself in trouble. Jungkook wanted to believe you were aware of what this looked like yet he knew there was a chance you weren’t. He couldn’t just go for it.

He could not just go for it.

Not even if you looked up at him with a look in your eyes that said you might want him to…

He could be dreaming it up.

Would you want him to?

No. No way, you would never, that’s how this all started right? You wouldn’t want him the way he wanted you and you’ll go be with someone else while he beats himself up for another failed attempt. He’s not in college anymore, he can’t make the same mistakes.

You do not want him.

“Y/n,” he said with a sigh, “I think we should get out n—“

It was soft but sudden. One second he was giving up on everything he had been hoping for and was ready to go on once again without telling you how he really felt. The next, your lips were on his, barely giving him a chance to feel the tenderness of it before pulling away with a gasp.

“Jungkook,” you covered your mouth with your hand, “Oh my god. I’m s-sorry, I, that was not okay. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You were rambling, apologizing for doing it without asking him first but in all honesty, he couldn’t hear you anymore. There was a strange ringing in his ear that only seemed to stop when he grabbed your face in his hands, and pulled you into a real kiss.

To keep yourself from leaning back too far, you wrapped your arms around his neck and met him the rest of the way. You kissed him back with an equal sense of urgency that had his eyes falling shut and letting himself get lost in the moment. Your lips were soft against his own and his lip rings felt cold on your tongue the first couple times.

At one point you surprised him by nipping at his piercings with a soft tug and it had his hands tightening around your waist, using his strength to pull you onto the counter with ease. It made it easier to kiss you and he let the small sigh you let out guide his tongue between your lips. Your hands were in his dark hair, and you surprised him with the way you took lead of the kiss. It felt like he was melting into you and it was doing things to him.

“Y/n,” he mumbled softly, “I want you so bad.”

You pulled back from him with widened eyes. It was the first time you heard him sound that way and you knew he meant it. He looked at you with an intense gaze and it felt good to be looked at that way by him. You wanted him too, right? That’s why you came back. That's why you were so upset back then. Why can’t you have him now?

What was really stopping you?

Nothing.

The second time he kissed you, you didn’t hesitate from doing more and it had his mouth dropping when he felt your hand trace down his toned chest. He let that feeling motivate his hands to do the same to you and they ran along your sides till he could feel your front. His hands slipped under your top and found your chest, gently reaching to touch you as he kissed you with his tongue.

Your fingers trailed down his navel to the waistband of his jeans, tugging softly and teasingly that you felt the way he sucked in a shaky breath. When he didn’t pull away to tell you to stop, you took it as a sign to go a little farther and undo the button and zipper. Jungkook’s rough fingers caressed your breasts ever so softly but with an added pressure that made you let out a small sigh, especially when he ran his thumb over your nipples.

He released a light groan against your lips when you got more confident in your actions and slipped into the hem of his Calvin Klein’s. You barely touched his growing member but you felt it harden against you, the more attention you gave to it and it was all just exciting to you. His kisses were needy and his rough hands felt so good against your sensitive buds that you couldn’t hold yourself back. You wanted to make him feel good too and you could tell you were.

Jungkook helped you tug his jeans down enough for you to have more reign over him and you touched his bare dick so softly. The first touch was light and teasing, like you were still letting him get lost in the feeling before you actually did anything but it was soft that it made a tingle run down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his skin and blood ran straight to his cock making it easier for you softly palm him to full hardness.

You circled your fingers around his tip, softly running your thumb around the ring feeling him twitch with need and softly sliding down to his base.

His movement grew rougher, he was no longer softly caressing your breasts but more groping, never getting enough for the softness of them. When you began to stroke him gently, he found it hard to keep himself from digging his nails into your flesh to ground himself and it made a hand of his fall to your leg. His palm was wide and flat against your inner thigh, tracing his lips down your jaw and to your neck to try and distract himself from getting too lost into the feeling.

“Fuck,” he huffed, licking his dry lips as he began to slowly fuck into your closed fist, deaf to the sound of music just outside the bedroom you two were hiding in. The bathroom felt even smaller at this point yet he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it now. Especially not when your hand began to fuck his cock faster, with more vigor as he twitched in your hold making his nails dig into your thigh harshly.

Your skirt was scrunched up around your hips at this point and he could see the soft blue of your laced underwear and couldn’t stop himself anymore. He had grown too curious to have you and with his hand so close already, he let his thumb trace along your covered folds.

They were already sensitive at this point and his sudden touch made your insides tighten with arousal, your back straightened in surprise and a light moan left your lips. The sound snapped his attention away from his own pleasure and when he did it again, he swallowed your moan with his mouth on yours.

He couldn’t take thing slow anymore, especially not when his dick felt so close to the edge already and was trying not to cum all over your hand and so soon.

You were withering against him, squirming on the counter to feel more of his hand against your heat. Your fingers tightened in his hair when he reached under to the hem of your panties, pulling them down as far as he could. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he tugged them down your thighs. Jungkook pulled away from your lips with a slight groan as he brought his fingers to your lips. He pressed into your bottom lip watching close as you drew your mouth open and took them in. As you licked between two fingers, your hand’s stroking sped up with more pressure that had him pushing them deeper down your throat.

When he pulled them out there was an obvious line of drool connecting his fingertips to your lips and he brought his hand between your legs once more. The mixture between his rough fingers and the slick that now coated them made a tingle run down your spine when they ran along your folds. You pinched the fabric of his shirt as he circled your hardening clit with his middle finger while his index finger began to tease your sensitive labor.

He ran the longer finger down your slit, dipping into the puddle of arousal that formed at your center before using it to wet your clit and massage you gently.

You looked into his eyes as he finally pressed his middle finger into your waiting cunt, giving you a second to respond and he couldn’t help but let his lips slip open with heavy breaths. Your hand stopped its actions as you took in the feeling of him pulling out his finger before pushing it forward once more. Each time felt hotter than the last and it made him want to take things further. When he thought you adjusted enough, he teased the tip of his ring finger in with his middle one and kept a steady pace of thrusting.

At this point you began to stroke him again, rubbing against his mushroom tip where a thick vein was felt along the underside of it. Your hips had began to move with the motion of his hand and you were fucking his fingers into you while fucking his cock with a closed fist. The both of you were left speechless, unsure how long you had been locked away in the bathroom but not caring either.

You felt more impatient than him but you couldn’t help it. You can’t remember the last time you let someone else touch you and none felt quite like this. Jungkook seemed to know where to kiss, where to press or pay attention to and he never left a part of you untouched. Even now as he thrusted his fingers into you, his other hand was at your chest again, fingers pinching your nipple and tugging harshly but it brought little whines from your lips.

“Jungkook,” You were breathlessly calling for him and you’re sure that if your back wasn’t to the mirror, you would be able to see how desperate you looked to him. Your other hand was on his hips, pulling him forward in hopes of getting him to get the hint that you needed more, “Fuck me.”

“What?” He asked with heavy breaths, looking down at the way the tip of his cock pressed against your inner thigh now, “Really?”

“Please,” You found yourself begging, desperately begging for him to give you something and oh, how it worked.

His eyes rolled back at the soft sound of your begs and with a hand on your thigh, he pulled you harshly to the edge of the counter. He placed his hand over yours and stroked himself once, twice, to slick his member with your arousal and his own.

His cock was hot to the touch and pointed straight to your waiting entrance. He had made such a mess of you already that when he pressed his tip into your clit, it nearly slid down from how wet you are. You had to bite your lip to keep from whining too loud when he teased you with that repeated motion, wetting his tip more and feeling the way your walls tightened and released for him.

Your back was fully against the mirror now, legs open waiting for him and you were getting impatient. The anticipo had been building up for too long and you brought your hand between your legs. All it took was a soft push down for his cock to sink into your waiting pussy.

His jaw went slack at the sudden tightness of it, he hadn’t expected it to be so snug. His tip barely pushed against the ring of nerves and your facial expression matched his own when he kept going. He held your thighs open, guiding himself in with a deep breath.

“Fucking hell,” he growled lowly, hands trembling as he kept you open and ready to take him in. He looked up at your eyes, completely enamored by the way your features softened with pleasure. Your eyes were glazed over with obvious lust that made him want to just fuck you into oblivion.

“Oh my god,” your hand circled around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss that left him biting your lip softly. He groaned against your lips as he picked up the pace of his thrusting, letting his cock drag against your puffy walls so that you could feel every juncture on his length. Your back was arched into him, your chest nearly pressed against his and he snuck his arm around your waist to pull you firmly against him.

“That’s it baby,” Jungkook groaned into your ear, gripping onto the counter with his free hand to fuck you better. You were on the edge of the sink and he bucked his hips up to reach that pleasure spot he had found with his fingers just moments ago and had you moaned loudly into his ear, “You sound pretty, tell me how it feels.”

“Feels good,” you whispered softly against his neck, lips teasing kisses against his skin that made the veins in his arms bulge, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Ngh, Y/n, beg for me,” Jungkook said with a deep voice filled with lust as he fucked you with all his strength. There were too many layers of clothing between you but neither of you seemed to have the time or energy to tear them off. You were both too focused on the pleasure that came from feeling his skin against yours.

Your legs tightened around his waist forcing more of his length into your sopping cunt and his fingers pinched your sides roughly. Without thinking, Jungkook lifted you off the counter. You clung to him as he stepped back and he needed a second to just feel the way your pussy tightened around his hard, thick cock. He wanted to dig into your guts and it was nasty how badly he wanted to have you cum all over him.

It was so unexpected because you always came off as a quiet, reserved person but here you were letting him tear you in two with his fat dick. Jungkook used his strength to push you against the door, letting you drop onto his length before backing his hips up and pistoning them back into you.

“Fuck, I can’t,” your legs tightened around him with your face digging into his neck, “Jungkook, baby, I can’t.”

“You can,” He whispered, pressing you firmly into the wall, “Come on baby, take it.”

“Too much,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut as he picked up the pace and you searched around for something to hold. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, trying to anchor yourself as he fucked you so good you could barely focus on anything but the pleasure, “I’m so close.”

Jungkook’s hand held you firmly by the waist while the other cupped your ass, groping you harshly as he fucked you onto his length trying to make you cum, “Cum baby, for me. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, “Kiss me, please?”

He didn’t hesitate to do so, kissing you with tongue as you clung to him, moaning into his ear and shaking slightly. His knees buckled tightly to hold you up and just as he gave one final thrust to the hilt, he felt your orgasm hit you.

Your walls tightened around him, nearly bringing him to his own orgasm before feeling his tip get flooded with your release. His thighs shook with the pressure of it and he felt his strength leaving him. His abdomen grew tense and he pushed you back to the counter where you let your head fall back with pleasure. You swallowed dryly, panting heavily, “Oh my god.”

You were sweaty, tired and overall unsure what to think but your mind hadn’t cleared yet. All you could focus on was the way Jungkook’s dick throbbed painfully hard when he pulled out of you with a slight pop. You eyed his red member, slightly hypnotized by how pretty it looked and you dropped to your knees wordlessly.

Jungkook watched you slip down on your knees in front of him and it took him a moment to process what was going on. He was hard, so fucking hard he couldn’t think straight and it wasn’t until your hands held his thighs, eyeing his cock hungrily did he realize what you wanted to do. He brought a hand fo attempt and gently brush your hair back, “Y/n, baby, you don’t have t—oh fuck.”

His jaw went slack when your hands circled his base, your lips on his tip and taking him down your throat suddenly. Your nose brushed against the base of his cock, eyes watering as you tried relaxing your throat around him and he nearly stumbled back with surprise, “Y/n.”

You ignored his call of your name, and began to bob your head against his length, your tongue licking along the thick vein you discovered earlier and feeling his hands sink into your hair to guide you, “That’s it, fuck.”

Jungkook looked at his reflection in the mirror, turned on by the way your head was seen bobbing against his length and his body was overheating so much he had to pull his shirt over his toned chest to cool down. It gave him a perfect view of the way his cock disappeared between your lips.

The thought of having you like this hadn’t dawned on him yet but now he couldn’t forget it. The memory would always be ingrained in his mind and although he doesn’t know if he’ll never get a chance to do this again, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You gradually began to pick up the pace, using your hands to hold closed fists around his cock to help stroke what didn’t fit in your mouth. You swallowed and bobbed around his dick hungrily, moaning around him and hollowing your cheeks when you would pull your head back until only his tip was between your lips.

As ashamed as he was to admit it, he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back anymore. Still wanting to warn you, he tried to guide your head off him, “I’m close.”

All it did was push you to take him deeper, stopping when he hit the back of your throat and sucked. Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut with a loud growl as his orgasm hit him harder than it had in a very long time.

You coughed as his cum sprayed down your throat, thick and creamy with a bittersweet taste that you tried to lick up. You would’ve cleaned him off fully despite his legs shaking but he pulled you off. He pulled his softening dick out of your wet mouth with a huff, panting heavily as he looked down at you.

“Y/n,” his voice was dry, pulling you up to your feet, “That was…”

He couldn’t even get the words out as he watched you lick the corner of your lips and without thinking about it, he pulled you into a heated kiss. You kissed him back with need, moaning against him as his tongue circled around yours hungrily, not caring for the way he tased on you. You only broke away to catch your breath, realization dawning at you as you looked at his messy appearance that surely mirrored yours.

You sat against the counter for a moment, attempting to catch your breath as Jungkook did the same. The two of you were silently readjusting your clothes again and you needed just a moment to yourself. He looked at you, buttoning his jeans back up, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah, um, can I just get a minute,” You said with a hoarse voice trying to pretend like you couldn’t see the way his shoulders slumped down. With a short nod of his head, he left the bathroom to let you wash up and for a moment you just looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your reflection looked different, maybe because what you had just done was so out of character and with your best friend’s ex but… why did it feel right?

Jungkook wondered what would happen now, if you expected him to leave the room or wait for you but he wanted to be with you. He didn’t want to walk out and think that because he got something he’s been wanting for years now, he’ll just leave. He knows the others are looking for him, mostly because he’s gotten a few texts now asking where he’s at but he can’t bring it in himself to care. When you opened the bathroom door into the dark room, he looked like a deer caught in headlights, rushing to his feet, “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded stiffly, “If you want to go out there with everyone else that’s fine. I won’t be upset or anything.”

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come back to mine?”

The first thing you noticed the following morning aside from the sun shining down on your face was the heavy arm across your waist. It made your eyes flutter awake with a small huff leaving your lips as you attempted to stretch your limbs but it tightened around you, securing you closer to Jungkook’s naked chest.

“Morning,” he mumbled sleepily into your hair as he hugged you closer.

“What time is it?” You asked awkwardly, trying to sit up making his arm slide to your hips instead. You reached for your cell phone, eyes widening by the number of text messages.

miyoung: bye I was drunkkkkkk 😳

miyoung: did I 🤮 at all?

miyoung: r u alive

miyoung: helloooooooo

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you read it over. Either she couldn’t remember how upset she was in the car or she’s going to pretend like nothing at all happened.

God, what did you do?

“Y/n,” Jungkook grumbled tiredly, “Lay back down.”

“I should go,” You bit your lip nervously. If Miyoung forgot what happened last night then maybe she forgot about Jungkook asking you and won’t know you… slept with him. Fuck, were you a bad friend?

He dated your best friend and dumped her out of the blue making it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her and here you are letting him fuck you in the bathroom. What did that make you? You had a poor lapse of judgment last night, you acted out of character and hadn’t been behaving like yourself at all.

“Why?” He sat up suddenly, “You don’t work today, right? Why don’t we go grab breakfast—well, brunch.”

You looked down at him, unable to stop yourself from taking in his appearance. He had bed hair, no shirt on and his blanket draped over his waist. He failed to take off his jewelry last night so he still wears silver chain necklaces around his neck and leather bracelets. You couldn’t possibly spend time with him still. It wasn’t right, right?

Just as you were ready to give him your answer, your phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. You looked down at the screen and a picture of you and Miyoung displayed on the screen that had Jungkook huffing quietly and laying back down, close to giving up.

In all honesty, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her. It still bothered you by how harsh she was last night but there’s a chance she doesn’t even remember and… “Hello?”

“Tell me why I have a raging headache when I barely drank last night?” Miyoung said immediately once the call went through, “It’s your fault y’know for upsetting me.”

You couldn’t see her but she was walking on a treadmill in her apartment acting like everything was completely normal. Jungkook didn’t care for your conversation either but he was focused on the way you looked first thing in the morning.

You looked cute, undeniably cute with circles under your eyes and a disheveled appearance. You wore an oversized shirt of his so you wouldn’t have to sleep in such uncomfortable clothes and he loved it. You looked good in his clothes.

Without thinking, he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a short and surprising kiss. You flinched back with confusion, nearly dropping your phone in the process but he backed away with a small smile. You tried to glare at him but you couldn’t stop from smiling and it annoyed you when he placed a gentle kiss against your neck that made you feel flustered. You almost forgot you were on the phone when he leaned in for a kiss again and one you would surely grant.

“But I forgive you,” Miyoung said suddenly.

“What?”

“I forgive you, I’m over it,” Miyoung said with a shrug you couldn’t see, “Our friendship means more to me than Jungkook and I know you would never do anything that you know would upset me so… it’s whatever. In the past.”

“Wait,” You held up a hand to Jungkook as you said it to the both of them, “When did I apologize?”

He stopped immediately, looking at you with concern as Miyoung went on, “I mean, we both know you were going to. I’m just letting you know it’s alright.”

“No, Miyoung, I wasn’t going to,” you couldn’t help but scoff, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Technically.

Jungkook raised his brows, surprised by your tone and a little turned on? Was that okay to say?

“I didn’t mean it like that, but you know… you were flirting with the guy who dumped me,” Miyoung said, “It’s fine, whatever, you want to flirt with Jungkook, I don’t care anymore I just thought I meant more to you as a friend.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you looked down at Jungkook who couldn’t seem to go more than a minute without attention. He had your free hand in his measuring your size difference and you released a sigh, “You know what, I’m kind of busy right now so I’ll call you later.”

Miyoung wasn’t able to get a word in before you ended the call, turning your attention to Jungkook, “You’re getting me in trouble, sir.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, biting back a grin, “How should I make it up to you? Brunch?”

“You’re still thinking about that?” You asked with a slight laugh.

It was strange trying not to let your best friend’s feelings bring you down too.

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook said, hand on his toned stomach for detail.

“I don’t have clothes or, I don’t know, a toothbrush,” you couldn’t help but sound sarcastic, falling back on the bed with an arm on his chest.

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

In the end you caved to his incessant begging and found yourself dressed as casual as ever with an oversized tee and the skirt you wore last night clashing horribly. The only thing that had you regretting it was what stood [parked] in front of you.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You asked as you watched him walk up to you with a helmet in his hands, “I can’t get on that.”

“You can,” Jungkook said, putting it over your head, “I’m a very safe driver.”

“What about your car?” You asked nervously as he buckled[?] you into the head gear, “Can’t we just go in that.”

“We can but that won’t impress you,” Jungkook snorted a laugh as he got his own helmet on, “Come on Y/n, I won’t kill you, don’t worry.”

With a small sigh you nodded, letting him lead you to the bike and he swung a leg over to straddle it and patted the seat right behind him. Frankly, you didn’t care that you were in a skirt. You know that there’s an appropriate way for people in skirts to straddle something but you cared more about living so you straddled it the way he did. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as he felt the softer touch of your hands on his waist and without saying a word, he pulled you into him suddenly. Your chest was pressed to his back and your arms snug around his waist.

“Atta girl, no time to be shy now,” he chuckled, feeling you smack his arm playfully.

If he were being honest, he liked this side of you. He’s never seen it before and it was breathtaking and enjoyable. Before when you were just classmates you were still stand offish from him and the only night he got you to open up was the first time he ran into you and met Miyoung. It was short lived and once he dated her, he rarely got to see you alone.

When he got back, you would barely even look at him yet whatever spurred last night’s events seemed to open up new possibilities for you two. You haven’t talked about what happened but he’s expecting it almost excitedly.

Jungkook’s hand ran up your thighs, securing you to him as he started up the motorcycle, feeling the smoothness of your leg and teasing the end of your skirt with a small tug, “Ready?”

He felt you squeeze harder before taking off.

The cafe was small and filled with warmth making this feel oddly close to a date… which is probably because it was? You’re still not sure how to take it.

“Did I really get you in trouble?” Jungkook asked as he cut his breakfast sandwich in half before doing the same with yours. When you looked at him he looked concerned by the notion. You didn’t have to ask to know what he was referring to and you couldn’t help but sigh, “Not really, sorry, it was more my fault than any—“

“Why though?” Jungkook cut you off, “Why is it always your fault? You can’t talk to me now?”

“You know we didn’t just talk,” you bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t meet his gaze and he didn’t like that.

He huffed in annoyance, “But she doesn’t know, or does she? I mean, what does it matter?”

“You dated. She’s my best friend and it bothers her, I already feel guilty for what happened last night—not that I regret it, don’t get me wrong but… well, it’s just confusing and it upsets her,” You rambled, still defending Miyoung even when she was slowly getting under your skin.

“We dated so long ago, it was such a short fling,” Jungkook said with a laugh as he went back to eating, “And she dumped me so why does it matter if you and I get together?”

“I don’t know, I just… she’s my best frie—wait, what did you say?” You met his stare suddenly making him set down his coffee cup to answer.

“She dumped me so why can’t you and I…” he stopped. Did you mean for him to repeat the part about being with you? Did you want him to say it again, maybe use the right words this time?

Why is he saying Miyoung dumped him? You remember the day exactly.

Miyoung called you while you were studying in the library late one night, not fully in tears but clearly under duress and she couldn’t stop herself from letting her emotions get to her. She went on to tell you how Jungkook dumped her suddenly over a phone call because he wasn’t interested anymore and was just using her or something.

You remember because you left the library to go comfort her and you almost ran into him on campus and he wouldn’t even look you in the eye…

He dumped her because he got bored, that’s why she asked you to stop talking to him. He was just like every other guy according to her and you owed her the promise to avoid him. It was you who introduced them anyway and…

Why is it that any guy you’ve ever thought you’ve liked would fall for her instead, only to dump her and in return make her ask you to not speak to them again?

Jungkook wasn’t the first so when she asked you to avoid him, it bothered you a little but you soon got over it and did as told.

You always do as told without questioning it.

“You broke up with her.”

He chuckled, shaking his head no, “I was going to but she beat me to it. I don’t know how honest you want me to be this early in the day.”

“Tell me,” you urged him on.

“I wanted to break up with her but I had this sick feeling that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to you as much anymore or it would be awkward so I stuck it out,” Jungkook said it with a shrug, “But then she dumped me and suddenly you won’t even look at me so it was worse for me, I guess.”

Your eyebrows stitched together with confusion, “What are you saying? Why did you care if I talked to you or not? You went for Miyoung the second you met her—“

“That’s not true, actually,” Jungkook confessed, deciding if you wanted honesty he would give it even if it embarrassed him, “I wanted you.”

“And when I met her, I was obviously there at the bar trying to talk to you but she kept butting in and next thing I know, you were off talking to Yoongi and ignoring me,” Jungkook went on, “To be honest, I was kind of insecure back then, like really insecure and I was trying to get you to notice me but everytime someone would cu—“

“Jungkook, stop, I just… no, you did not like me, you dated Miyoung,” You cut him off, fidgeting in your seat anxiously, “It’s fine, it’s in the past.”

“No it’s not fine and I asked how honest you wanted me to be and you told me to tell you so I’m going to,” Jungkook said more seriously, “I was insecure, alright? I had just moved to the city and I shared class with this pretty, incredibly smart girl who would barely give me any time of day. Honestly it was kind of depressing, I was kinda depressed at the time and I needed a boost to talk to you so I asked Miyoung and… she said you were into someone else so I was pretty bummed out. Then she’s kind of just everywhere and she actually tries to talk to me so when she asks me out, I say yes but I realize I still have to see you.”

“And I liked being around you even though I probably shouldn’t have because technically I was dating her at this point and I realized that I practically screwed up whatever chance I might have had with you,” Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore. He was saying whatever was on his mind, barely giving you time to process any of it before continuing, “Yes, I know it’s fucked up because whenever I thought it might work and I might catch real feelings for her, you would came around and they just went out the window. So it was getting harder and harder to keep pretending and I wanted to break up with her but I was worried you wouldn’t talk to me anymore.”

“She beat me to it and dumped me because she was bored and I was relieved, honestly, but then I see you on campus and you can’t even look at me anymore,” Jungkook cleared his throat, “Then life went on, I moved away, moved back, ran into you again and…”

“And what?” You asked breathlessly, lips dry and completely frozen in your seat.

He looked at you warmly, “I found you, everything just came back and I knew I didn’t want to lose you a second time. I wanted to ask you out the first night at the bar but you didn’t even want to talk to me so I tried again last night and you were so ready to blow me off when Miyoung came along. I don’t know what made you come back to the party and I don’t want you thinking I’m some sleazy guy who acts like that with just anyone. I was just… it was unexpected and I had been waiting years for something to happen between us.”

Suddenly, this didn’t feel like an easy brunch inside a warm and cozy cafe anymore. In all honesty, it felt a little suffocating now and you don’t know how to explain it, but you didn’t want to be here. So much has just been thrown at you and you don’t think you can handle it all.

What did he mean that he liked you first?

Why had Miyoung told him you were into someone else? You learned to stop sharing who you liked with her so long ago and had never once told her anything like that in school. Why couldn’t she just have asked you? Why did she ask him out after he made it known he wanted you?

You don’t care that he said yes, that really was in the past for you. Now you’re more focused on why someone who was supposed to be your best friend would act so sneaky? What did she gain from it?

Why did she lie and say he dumped her? Was it just so she can paint him as a villain and make you not want to talk to him anymore? Why would she do that?

“Y/n?” He called your name waiting for you to respond to him but you just sat there stunned, “I’m sorry, I know I was a piece of shit for dating her when I wanted you bu—Y/n.”

Your mind is filled with questions that you couldn’t answer and it was overwhelming. The cafe felt suddenly overwhelming and you just had to get out of there, so you did.

“Earth to Y/n, I don’t know how long you plan on ignoring the world but I know you’re not too busy with work to ignore your friends.”

Tacky, Taehyung was so very tacky leaving a concerning voicemail. Who left voicemails these days?

And he was being dramatic, he’s acting like you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth but that’s not true. You’ve just been holed up at either the office or your home for the past week, avoiding any call or text from anyone so you could be alone with your thoughts.

Alright it’s been over a week, almost two and maybe it is a little concerning but you’re telling yourself you’re just being dramatic.

“Y/n you better open the door before I break it down,” Taehyung’s muffled voice boomed from the other side of your front door and you begrudgingly went to let him in.

“Relax, I’m not dead,” You muttered under your breath as you let him in.

“Damn near!” Taehyung said loudly as he let himself through the door, “What is up with you? You haven’t responded to any text I was beginning to get worried.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled as you flopped down onto your couch, “I’ve just been tired.”

“Too tired to answer the phone?” Taehyung asked sitting down next to you, “Miyoung, I get. Ignore her all you want but me? What did I ever do to you? What’s up with you? I haven’t talked to you since the party. Did something happen?”

With a small sigh, you let your head rest against the back of the couch, “I slept with Jungkook.”

“Really?” Taehyung seemed genuinely surprised, “So fallout with Miyoung I’m assuming? Look, I personally don’t get why you try to make her happy but she’ll get over it. Did you like it? Like him?”

“Yes, I don’t know, I’m confused, I don’t know what to believe anymore,” you admitted, “And I feel so dumb because this shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Alright well I need you to rewind and explain things better so my pea brain can handle it,” Taehyung made himself comfortable, “You’ve gone Ghost for over a week, I want to know why. Was it because of Jungkook? Miyoung? If you think sleeping with him makes you a bad friend the—“

“She’s a liar,” you cut in, “And it shouldn’t bother me so much because she’s my best friend but that’s why it bothers me, Tae. I’ve known her for so long, and I’ve always tried to be a good friend to her but it was never enough. So I tried harder and harder because who else would be there for me like her but… now that I’m looking back on it, I don’t think she’s ever cared about me as much as I care about her and it sucks, honestly.”

Taehyung wanted to tell you so many people cared about you but he wanted you to say whatever you needed to say first.

“You know what Jungkook said? He said Miyoung knew he apparently liked me before and still asked him out—and lied about how I felt about him,” You said, “And okay, why would I fight over a guy with my best friend but now that I’m thinking about it… it’s fucked up right? She lied that he dumped her and begged me to avoid him. You saw how she acted the other night just because he talked to me. What was that about?”

You weren’t going to go into full detail about the past because you owed Jungkook enough to not tell Taehyung about everything he said but he needed context.

“And I know it’s in the past so I should just move on but I can’t,” You admitted, “I still like him but if I… I get with him Miyoung would never let me forget that she dated him first, even if he liked me. It’s just all so confusing and overwhelming and it sucks that I’m letting it get to me like this but… it’s not fair.”

Once again, Taehyung didn’t say anything but he could tell you were feeling emotional by the way your voice began to shake.

“I like him, and not in the way I liked him before but I like this new him too, and it’s not fair that even if she lied or even if she snaps at me about shit that doesn’t matter, I will still feel guilty,” You finished.

“Y/n,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “Obviously I don’t know everything that happened back then but… I think that if you feel for him what he feels for you, it shouldn’t matter what she says. And honestly, I just… I wish you could see that there are so many people who care about you so much and you don’t have to put up with being belittled by someone who is supposed to be your best friend just because you have history. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the past, if it’s upsetting you now then clearly it still matters so don’t try to downplay your emotions.”

“But she’s my best friend,” your lip quivered.

“Then what am I?” He forced his lip to quiver as well.

“You’re my best friend too,” you sniffled.

Taehyung mimicked your expression, “Then as your best friend, I’m telling you to stop trying to make excuses for people who don’t treat you right—and go fix it with this guy.”

“Bu—“

“Y/n, I know you,” Taehyung sighed, “And I know that you’re not going to do anything if you think it upsets her but she doesn’t deserve a friend like you. You deserve to go be with whoever you want. I don’t care about what she says and at this point neither should you. I know that right now it’s confusing and you’re overwhelmed but if you’ve been ignoring me you’ve been ignoring him—I hope because if it’s just me that’s cold—and if the girl I had feelings for ghosted me… I’d be hurt.”

Jungkook was not hurt. He was… y'know, perfectly fine and that’s what he kept telling himself. It’s not like you made any real sign of feeling something for him too after hooking up and maybe that had just been a casual, one time thing. He can handle that, he’s grown.

Sure, he sort of spilled his damn heart out to you just for you to storm off on him and not reach out to him in days but he’s not bothered by it at all. That’s why when his two closest friends called Saturday night asking him to go clubbing… he said yes.

It was a chance to possibly let it go, forget it even, but it wasn’t easy. He was aware that he was possibly reading too into what happened the other night but could you blame him? You’re suddenly all about him and spend the night at his place where you wake up in his arms before going out to eat. It was like the perfect set up for a what if yet it went all wrong. Clearly it was his fault for being hopeful.

“So who else did you say is meeting us here?” Jungkook asked Hoseok for confirmation as he passed him a drink. The music played loudly in his eardrums that it was borderline painful and he wanted to leave more than anything but there was that stupid what if in his head.

“Jimin’s joining later on and so is Namjoon and his girl,” Hoseok said as he made sure everyone else had what they ordered, “Oh, and Y/n too, I think.”

“Y/n?” Jungkook tried clarifying. Hoseok smiled, “I know, it’s weird, Y/n seriously rarely comes out but all of a sudden she’s starting to more. I mean, lately she has, probably since around the time you got back?”

Jungkook let his friend go off to do whatever he wanted while he stood there seemingly frozen. Tonight would be the first time in days that he sees you—talks to you—and he’s not sure how to handle it. There’s nothing he can do about it either because he hasn’t confided in anyone yet but it’s painfully obvious that he’s waiting for you.

Yoongi noticed first, like he usually did, and tried talking to him, “What’s up with you? You’ve been antsy since the party, will you finally tell me where you ran off to?”

“Yeah man, don’t think we didn’t notice when you disappeared,” Jin said with a slight wink, “We just want to know with who.”

“Y/n.”

He could see you from the corner of his eye when you joined them at a table they had found. You came with Jimin by your side and a shy smile on your face. He assumed it was Hoseok who had screamed your name considering how he hogged your attention with a huge grin and Jungkook felt nervous all of a sudden.

As embarrassing as it was, Jungkook had nearly forgotten what he was asked until he looked back at Yoongi and Jin who looked at him expectantly. A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he shrugged, “Did you guys miss me too much?”

“Sneaky guy, don’t change the subject,” Jin laughed before letting Jungkook shift his attention back to you, making it painfully obvious where he was focused.

You felt a little nervous to be out tonight but after what you had talked about with Taehyung, you knew he was right. You acted strange with Jungkook after he opened up his side of things to you and it was plain wrong. Part of you isn’t even sure if he’s actually interested or not since he didn’t reach out to you this week and it made you wonder if he was really upset.

And if he was, would that mean that he didn’t want to speak to you?

“I need a drink,” you mumbled to yourself more than to the others but it made a good excuse to at least try. You looked at Jungkook for the first time since you got there and cleared your throat to awkwardly ask, “Jungkook, do you mind going with me?”

“Get me another, will ya?” Yoongi asked with a sudden wink that made Jungkook do a double take. Was he winking over the drink or him leaving with you?

He nodded his head in response and without question followed you to the bar once more. The bar was packed from all sides and Jungkook had to fight his way to the counter working as a barrier from people pushing at you. If he were to be honest, he wanted to skip the questions and get close to you again but he had to stay strong. He needed answers, right?

“Are we good?” Was the only thing he could think to ask.

You looked at him warmly, sitting down on the stool at the counter with him standing close to you, his hand itching to reach for you. Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded, “Are we?”

For some reason he didn’t expect to be asked that back. It made him wonder if he thought you were. It was undeniably embarrassing to have you walk out on him like that after he thought it had been going good but did that mean he was truly upset with you?

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly, blinking nervously and looking to the bartender who noticed them a while ago but had to attend to earlier customers first, “But uh, I guess I am just a little confused by it all. Did I do something to upset you? Was it what I said?”

“No, no, I’m sorry, it wasn’t you,” You blurted out, “It was me, I wasn’t thinking straight and I feel really bad about leaving like that.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or even text me?” Jungkook asked honestly, “I… I think that’s what bothered me the most.”

You looked down at your hands, “I'm sorry. I didn’t talk to anyone, seriously, and I did think about reaching out to you but I don’t know, I’m really bad at explaining things.”

“Well can you try? I know it was sudden but I thought it had been going good,” Jungkook said and the longer he tried getting to the bottom of this, the more annoyed he felt that you couldn’t just say it, “I think I’ve made it clear now how I feel about you and all I’m asking is for you to do the same.”

“I—yes,” you stumbled over your words, “I mean, I’m trying to be clear now but I’m doing a shit job at it. I did have a good time with you but it was honestly, really out of character for me to yknow… and then the whole Miyoung thing and I’m sorry but it was just a lot all at once. It’s definitely not fair to you that I acted that way, but I do have feelings for you.”

He let out a sigh, feeling unsure how to take it and stuck between wanting to smile in relief and wanting to be upset. You didn’t text him, nothing. How is that fair? He wanted to reach out to you but after the way you left he thought he would just make it worse if he kept bothering you. The bartender finally got to you two and he let you speak first as he tried gathering his thoughts a little more.

“But what does this mean?” Jungkook asked now, “I want you and you want me, right? So, what does this mean Y/n because right now I’m still confused by it all. If it’s because of Miyoung then—“

“No, it’s not, honestly,” You said, reaching for him, pinching the bottom of his shirt between your fingers to pull him toward you, “I don't care what she thinks anymore, I like you and I should have just said that from the beginning.”

The pull was harsh and had him looking down with his lips slightly parted in surprise, “Y/n, you’re not being fair.”

You knew it. You knew you probably ruined your chance now and coming to see him had just been a waste. You nearly let go of him when he continued, “You can’t ignore me and walk out on me and then just tell me you want me too, expecting everything to be fine.”

He had to be tough. He can’t just let it go even though you’re saying everything he wants to hear.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you said with a slight frown, “I can leave if you want me to.”

“Ugh,” he groaned, unable to help himself anymore as he closed the distance between you two. He circled an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve been waiting for you to get here?”

“What?” You asked, hands finding his waist as he held you, “I thought you were mad.”

“I was,” Jungkook said, “So you don’t know how annoyed I am with myself right now. All it takes is for you to sweet talk me a bit and give me those eyes of yours for me to fold, that’s embarrassing.”

“Jungkook,” you said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have walked out like that. I should have texted you and if you want to be mad, I get it. If you want to think it over an—“

“And what if I don’t?” He asked looking down at your pouty lips and glossy eyes, “What if I just want to let it go and be with you without any more problems? Can I do that?”

His tone was surprisingly firm and you couldn’t do anything but nod, “Okay.”

It didn’t change the fact that you still felt bad because it seemed like you were being let off the hook easily but what else could you do? Jungkook really did seem ready to move past it and that’s why you came here in the first place. You just hadn’t expected it to be so easy and it made you feel bad.

When your drinks were ready, you opened up a tab despite his protests to just put it on his and the two of you got back to the group like nothing had happened. There was still a lot that needed to be talked about before you told anyone about what happened but it’s not like they were all oblivious.

Jimin, for instance, had been keeping an eye on you two at the bar since you left and had seen the majority of your conversation but he didn’t bring it up. Instead he watched silently for your little glances in each other’s direction and shy smiles. It was obvious to Yoongi too that Jungkook was in a much better mood now than earlier and it wasn’t hard for him to figure out why.

Perhaps for the same reason you had suddenly started joining them more often, being more comfortable too.

It had been a slow start for the two of you after the night at the club. Neither one of you seemed to want to rush into things but at times there was a strong pull. Tonight was going to be your first official date but you were keeping that information to your friends until you figure out if this works or not.

Jungkook picked you up from your apartment and drove to a nice restaurant where the two of you sat for dinner. He was very attentive to you, making sure your glass was always full and all your needs met and it was a surprisingly good feeling to be taken care of this way. You’ve dated in the past but you can’t say you’ve always chosen the right ones. You had a tendency to lean toward the ones who were overly forward with you because in your mind there was no doubt they liked you.

At first it would be nice but then you would realize that it was more of a conquering feeling to them than actually wanting to be with you and you would be left heartbroken. That’s part of why you rarely put yourself out there.

Jungkook is different though, he always has been. When you first met him he was forward but aloof. You never expected him to actually like you because you couldn’t see the signs clearly and the way things turned out it just never worked. Now that he’s been back he’s almost like an entirely different person in the sense that he’s ready to go for what he wants and it’s sort of admirable.

If you had been able to do that back then maybe you would have had him sooner but there was no point in dwelling in the past. He was here now and so were you. Honestly, knowing that there's something that’s been brewing between you two for a long time made it easier to feel confident around him.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask even if his mouth was full. He was trying not to smile too as he said that.

“Oh my god,” You felt your face heat up, tempted to hide behind your hand. It took you a moment to think of a response and it was surprising for the both of you to hear you say, “Why are you?”

Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly in hopes of not seeming too affected by your words. It didn’t work and he broke out into a grin, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Dinner was filled with small flirting here and there. It’s crazy how well you and him seemed to get along when you stopped worry about other things. He made you smile, really smile and you made him feel giddy whenever he talked to you. He wanted to spend his night with you and nobody else.

“Are we going to meet with everyone else after this?” You asked as he pulled your chair out for you and you got up from the table. After some back and forth arguing, he eventually took care of the bill despite your protests and the night felt near its finish much to your disappointment.

It was the weekend and you’ve been trying to go out with your friends more and they had asked to meet up later—but both you and Jungkook had to tell them maybe.

“Do we have to?” He asked, taking your bag in one hand and holding yours with the other, “You think they’ll get a little suspicious if we’re both gone?”

You walked with him across the restaurant toward the entrance. You weren’t paying much attention to the people you passed, “I’m sure they know.”

Your response surprised him a bit and he couldn’t help but ask, “Really? Has it been that obvious?”

“Yeah, Jimin called me out on it the other night,” you shrugged, reaching for your bag to look for chapstick while he led you to the front. You couldn’t meet his eyes because you sensed where this was going.

“What’d he say?” Jungkook asked slowing his pace for you.

You blinked nervously, distracting yourself with your lipbalm as you tried sounding casual, “He asked why we were being so sneaky at the bar.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, opening the door for you as he said, “Damn, what did you say?”

“I said because we’re together.”

You tried being slick about it and slide past him without much attention but it was useless. He stood in front of you with a smile on his face, “Oh, we are? I don’t remember you clarifying that. Can you remind me when you asked me to be your man?”

“Oh god, don’t act like that,” you whined shyly.

“I’m sorry baby, I gotta hear you say it with your own words. What’d you tell him?” Jungkook blocked your path, hands finding your waist and keeping you from running. He liked making you flustered and you had no idea how you left him with a racing heart.

You pouted, looking at him seriously, “Jungkook.”

The two of you stood outside the restaurant looking like a playful couple that maybe had one too many drinks but it was all Jungkook’s fault. He wouldn’t let it go to rest and even had the nerve to smirk as he teasingly said, “That’s not how you say ‘Boyfriend’.”

“You’re ridiculous, we talked about this,” you said, focused on his chest to hide your embarrassment.

Jungkook just grinned mischievously, “What did you tell him?”

“I said you were my boyfriend,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Your what?” He asked trying to step back and get a good look at your face, “Come on baby, don’t get shy on me now.”

You whined, “Jung—“

“Your what?” He was laughing now, not caring for whoever might pass them and stare because he felt good. Too good to be affected by a stranger’s judgement.

“My boyfriend,” you sighed with embarrassment, “You heard me the first time, goof.”

“That’s what I thought, alright, you ready to go?” He asked with a chuckled as he took your hand in his ready to walk with you to the car.

“Y/n?”

You both stopped in your step, wondering if it really was your name you had heard. You looked back toward the rest, eyes threatening to widen with surprise as you looked at the person who stood at the entrance. She was with a group of people all headed inside but when she saw you, she stopped.

“Miyoung, hey,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, your demeanor changing completely.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked as her eyes trailed behind you where Jungkook was looking at you with worry and confusion. He wanted to make sure everything would be alright, knowing how Miyoung would react. He didn’t want your good night to be ruined over something petty.

“What do you mean? I’m uh, I was just having dinner,” you said stiffly, looking back at Jungkook which proved to be a mistake because it seemed to solidify his presence to her.

“With jungkook?” She asked with a snappy tone. Miyoung shooed away her friends, telling them to go in without her as she approached you.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Her brow arched with amusement, clearly ticked off and in disbelief by what she saw before her. Like usual, the situation seemed much worse than it really was.

It was time for you to be up front. What’s the point in putting yourself out there and letting yourself open up to him if you wouldn’t have the courage to make it known? You swallowed dryly, “Because we’re… dating.”

Jungkook had stepped back from the situation, not wanting to worsen it so he stood off by a light post not too far for a smoke break. He tried distracting himself with lighting his cigarette but he couldn’t help but freeze up when you said that. It brought a shy smile to his face as he waited for you to finish.

“No, you’re not,” Miyoung scoffed looking back at Jungkook as if betrayed by him too. You blinked with confusion, what did she mean you’re not? Did she expect you to be joking or back down? “We are.”

Miyoung stood in front of you now, slightly taller, “Y/n, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks and now you’re saying you’re dating my ex boyfriend? What kind of friend are you?”

This time it was you who scoffed lightly, looking away from her to try and process what you would say but you had spent too much time already trying to think it over, “The thing is, um, I’ve been kind of wondering the same about you.”

“Me?” She looked down at you genuinely taken back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and tried to gather the courage to just say it. You could feel Jungkook around, listening but giving you space and it was like a push start for you to say what was really on your mind, “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m the only one who puts effort into being friends and I don’t see the point in always fighting. We’re not together, we don’t have to be friends if it always has to be some sort of argument. It’s getting tiring at this point and I think maybe it’s best we just distance ourselves from each other.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m like the only person who really cares about you, Y/n. Don’t act stupid.”

Although that made Jungkook want to intervene and tell her how very wrong she was, he didn’t. He didn’t want to speak for you. He knew you could speak for yourself and he should let you, even if he was itching to cut in.

“No, I don’t think you are. I know you think you are so you always tell me you are, but you’re not. People like me for me and not just because I’m friends with you,” you said coldly and your tone was definitive it left her speechless. It had to be one of the first times you were ever remotely close to snappy with her and she didn’t expect it.

“I know it’s hard for you to think of me as my own person but I don’t have to do what you want,” You said, “And I think you only boss me around and act sneaky behind my back because you’re threatened by me.”

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. What you said left her rendered quiet. You waited too, waited to see if she would tell you to stand down but she didn’t and you didn’t give her time too, “ But I think I should go, I don’t want to bother your dinner any longer—and uh, maybe we just shouldn’t contact each other anymore.”

Jungkook had forgotten about his smoke break, jaw nearly to the floor at how confident you sounded. It was obvious you had never spoken to Miyoung that way but she couldn’t even deny what you said. You did it so casually and like you couldn’t care less which made you seem mature compared to Miyoung’s tantrums.

“Why was that kind of hot?” Jungkook asked as you finally reached him under the light post. Miyoung had stormed off with an evil glare that he ignored telling you how “You’re done”.

He looked down at you with hazed eyes, amazed and enamored. You scrunch your face curiously, “What was?”

“You, right now,” He chuckled, reaching for your hand in his, “Kind of scary too. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you tried to laugh it off, “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

It was so dumb of you to still be worried about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, you were calm and casual but that was so scary,” Jungkook gasped dramatically, “Because I know you were mad at her—… it was mean but only a little and so very very hot, and you’re doing all this in that dress…”

Without meaning to be, Jungkook was sort of like your hype man. You were worried about being too harsh, you still are, but he made you feel better about it. Part of you will never not feel in the wrong for being with Jungkook but you’ve gotten the rest off your chest and it felt good. Maybe you were a bit mean or maybe you weren’t, you could never be entirely sure but Jungkook seemed to be on your side no matter what.

“You like my dress?” You asked him with a teasing smile as he held the car door open for you.

“I really do,” he played with his lip ring, looking down at you.

“Then take it off me.”

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook whispered to himself as he looked around the parking lot, “Here?”

You broke out into a laugh as you sat down. Your words got to him easier than you thought and he sighed, “You can’t say that shit to me, Y/n. I’ll actually do it.”

“Let’s go back to my place and see if you can keep your word then,” you told him, watching him close the door with a tense jaw just thinking about it.

You can’t do this to him. You can’t be shy and cute one second and then act like that. You can’t. That’s not fair to him. How is he supposed to not be affected when you say things that get his heart racing while looking so cute? Was this what it would be like dating you? Just constantly caught by surprise?

He did like the way you stood up for yourself. He liked that you spoke your mind more freely than before and he takes joy in hearing you flirt back. In the beginning it felt like he was the one always trying to get you to talk to him or notice him and now you’re saying things that make his head dizzy.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, yknow?” Jungkook asked after the painfully long car ride back to your apartment. He was removing his coat as you sat on the edge of your bed to undo your shoes.

You let out an amused laugh, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you act all shy and innocent and then you say shit that…” Jungkook let out a groan, “I can’t explain it, you just drive me crazy.”

“In a good way or bad way?” You asked, following him with your eyes as he closed the space between you two until he was at the end of the bed standing in front of you.

“A good way,” he said softly, “I’m finding more sides of you I’ve never seen.”

“And you like it?” You asked shyly, feeling his hands curl around your jaw.

“I do, a lot,” he confessed brushing his lips against yours, “I don't know what I would’ve done if I lost my chance with you again.”

::.

NO PART TWO

oml yall this took me forever to come up with 😭 I went through at least six other ideas before deciding on this one and I can’t tell how happy I am with it yet but I tried my hardest not the disappoint 🥹 I miss being more active and taking to you all but life has been so busy lately

please let me know how you feel and I promise I’ll try to be more active 🫶🏽

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @skzthinker @unnatae @beautywine @lilliankoo @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @dream-cvtcher @jksjx @kissyfacekoo @joyjunk @caro134340lina @hyunjinswifeee @oldermenluverrr @caro134340lina @olivialeesstuff [taglist is too long so I’ll have to make two versions of it]

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323cutie · 2 months ago

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OH!!!! or san/wooyoung after they go on one of those shows where they play with and take care of kids …. later that night they’ve got your with your knees to your chest, damn near sobbing and begging to put a baby in you

well. I went a little bit feral.

"S-Sannie," you gasp out. "San. Slow down."

San punches out a whine like the thought alone upsets him. His grip on the pillows next to your head tightens and loosens, and he gives you one strong thrust as if to physically disagree. You moan, long and loud, San somehow folding you over even more to press his face to your neck.

"Can't," he whimpers, one of his hands leaving the sheets beside you to run along your entire body, fingers twitching over your skin. "Can't, sweetheart... please, need to fill you up. Wanna give you a baby. Please."

You gulp and San resumes his regular, brutal pace, your nails clawing at his back while his cock slides against your walls deliciously. He'd mentioned today's schedule -- a variety show with kids -- a couple weeks ago, and you'd been excited to hear about it, but you never would have expected this.

"San --"

"Don't you want me to?" He asks, pulling out of your neck to look at you. His eyes are bleary and full of tears, and the unshed shine in his eyes makes you clench around him. "Fuck, don't you want me to fill you up?"

You can't even think anymore. You feel insane, feverish, nodding immediately: "I do, please, Sannie, give me a baby."

He sobs, pushing harder and faster into you even still. Desperate for release, even more desperate to give you what you begged for -- what you both want. He splits you open, a hand finding its way in between you to rub at your clit.

"Gonna give it to you, honey," San pants, but your focus is slipping. You think you're drooling -- then again, he is too. "Gonna give you everything."

#i have to have like a situational breeding kink becuase This is just .#hi Sannie i will give u however many children u Want even if its in the double digits #🦌.txt #🦌 answers #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez san x reader #ateez san smut #ateez san imagine #choi san smut #choi san x reader #choi san imagine #san x reader #san smut #san imagine

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hazelcallahan · 1 month ago

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ok “all vi needed to do was call caitlyn cupcake to make her turn on ambessa” is a fun little bit that i will participate in but i really feel like it’s contributing to two major misconceptions/complaints:

1. that caitlyn’s heel turn was sudden, and

2. that vi and caitlyn have reconciled

so let’s break that down, shall we

1. every single hint was there that caitlyn was chafing against ambessa’s regime and doing every little thing in her power to resist without putting herself and her loved ones at great risk. from the first scene with maddie - hell, the opening montage - you can tell cait is fucking EXHAUSTED. weary. that’s a woman who has spent months suffocating, doing desperate damage mitigation when put into an impossible situation. she didn’t want the mantle of leadership, and what was she going to do, say no and let someone worse take it? so she’ll take it. she’ll ban the use of solitary confinement cells. she’ll argue against ambessa’s soldiers attacking civilians. she’s in too deep to really do much else.

additionally, there are hints that she’s been planning on ways to take down ambessa for months. that one scene with dialogue over them sparring is literally there to symbolize how every single conversation between them is a battle, both of them looking for openings, and no matter how hard caitlyn tries ambessa always seems to come out on top. you also don’t just come up with the plan she did entirely on the fly - tracking things like guard rotations is something only a schemer does.

2. sure, “cupcake” is a fun little pet name, but it’s so much more than that. the most obvious is an olive branch. vi doesn’t want to hurt caitlyn. there’s so much affection still there.

the bigger thing, though, and the thing i believe caitlyn is reacting to there, is it’s a sign of distance. vi used “cupcake” as a way to needle at caitlyn when they first met, when she didn’t quite trust her even though she’d broken her out of prison. after that, we hear her use it twice more in s1: on the bridge during their parting hug, and after the council meeting as she’s trying to leave. both instances where she, in that moment, believes they’re never going to see each other again, and so she has a vested interest in creating that distance. on the other hand, we hear her use caitlyn’s name after she hears the gunshot on the bridge, in a moment of genuine fear and affection.

come s2, vi doesn’t use “cupcake” at all in act 1. she used “cait” a lot. still a nickname, but also caitlyn’s actual name - i know you, i see you, i care about you. caitlyn’s observant enough to notice this, even passively, even if she didn’t realize it until she heard “cupcake” months later, but i can’t help but feel like she takes that nickname as a sign of how they’ve drifted. she feels like she has to start over again with this woman she clearly loves. the meaning is clear to her: i won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason to, i’ll work with you if that’s what you need, but i’m not going to let myself get close to you just yet.

#caitvi #speaking my truth!#arcane #arcane spoilers

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princesssmars · 1 month ago

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home sweet home

a vi x reader.

the war between the silco and the firelights has gotten tense, and all you want is a day off to rest. but when an old flame returns from the dead you find the energy to give her a welcome home present she won’t forget.

wc: 4.491

contains : fluff, adoptive brother ekko and firelight reader. mentions of vi's abuse in prison :c smut. dry humping and tribbing yippee.

a/n : idk something about being separated for years and celebrating the reunion with rough and/or desperate sex does it for me bro 💔 started this beforeeee everything and hopefully this gets posted the morning of act ones drop <3 update i love vi but i need to kick her ass yayyy enjoy.

for lack of a better word, your day was getting really fucking weird.

you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, an ache strong enough to rouse you from your sleep and out of your bed. you chalked it up to hunger, having skipped another meal last night to stay up looking over some of the injured firelight’s and new schematics for tools and weapons.

but once you got a good meal into your stomach, staring up at the giant tree you called your home, you realized the feeling wasn’t from neglecting your appetite. it was that feeing you got when something big was about to happen.

you felt it when the breakthroughs were made on some of the bigger inventions like the hoverboards, when the firelights found this impossible and beautiful grove and made it their home, on that day years ago where your life crumbled around you in the space of a few days.

so it was only up to fate if something bad or good would happen today. and you didn’t feel like waiting to find out.

quickly making your way up the tree, you rapidly do your special knock on ekko’s door, only to be met with silence. you try again and silence still. trying and slightly failing to keep yourself calm, you head back down and start asking others if they’ve seen him, the ache in your stomach growing at some of the awkward and shifty responses you get.

for six years you and ekko have been inseparable. both traumatized by the trials of growing up in the undercity, getting taken in by benzo, and then the sudden and bloody death of your friends, you had no one else to depend on except for each other. it was hard to put it lightly, navigating a rapidly changing undercity and taking care of your little adoptive brother while trying to deal with your own trauma. even as you met others and formed this group you now call family, you made a promise to each other to stick side by side no matter what.

and that included not running off and doing god knows what in the early morning while the other was sleeping.

you’re halfway through pulling on your coat and mask when you hear the sound of the main door opening and a small commotion, running as fast as you can to get down the tree again before a tall figure stops you.

he tries to be funny, throwing out a 'hey hey hey, slow down! your running like there’s a fire-ow!' before he holds a gloved hand to the side of his arm, cradling the spot where you punched him. you get a solid minute of berating and cussing him out before the look on his face tells you he's being serious, conflict clear in his brown eyes.

you have about a million questions running in your head as he leads you to one of the stock rooms, his breath inhaling multiple times to explain before he lets it out in frustration.

“just…promise you won’t freak out, ok?”

you nod before he pushes you inside and closes the door behind you.

you scoff, calling his name and knocking on the hard material for him to let you out. you weren’t in the mood today to entertain his hidden playful nature, most of the time you indulged him but you were too worried at the moment. you’re seconds away from cursing him out again when a soft voice calls out your name from the darkness behind you behind you.

no. it’s not possible. it’s deeper, more rugged then you remember, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t forget that voice. you heard it in your dreams for years, pushing you to keep going for yourself when you felt like giving up, reminding you she was always there by your side when you felt so alone.

you slowly turn your body, unconsciously trying to protect yourself from the possibility of this being a farce when two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a sturdy torso. at the slightest glimpse of hit pink hair your eyes start to water and your chest is heaving with long building gasps, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and digging your face into her neck.

for years you’d daydream about this moment, what you’d say if you were reunited with the girl who was your best friend and likely the love of your life. you’d imagine the rushed out words and apologies, the shared wails as you assured the other you’d never leave their side again. but this silence just feels so right, makes so much sense for all the emotions you’ve been letting sit in your heart without any kind of resolution or closure.

she pulls away from you slightly and you hope she ignores the subtle whine that leaves your throat as she does. her large, and you mean really large, palms come up to cup your cheek as she stares at your face, blue eyes flitting across your features like she’s trying to commit every piece of you to memory. you don’t mind, you remember how she liked when you let her observe things so she could take in things as much as possible lest they be gone in a second. it just gives you an excuse to stare at her, too.

and gods above are you staring. obviously a large part of you is sentimental and sad as you see how much she’s changed over the years; the longer jagged shapes of her jaw, her nose. your heart pangs seeing the cuts in her brow and lip that you unconsciously bring a finger up to rub at. but it takes an embarrassing amount of strength not to pay attention just to her lips as you feel over the scar, how her bright eyes go wide and unblinking as she stands and lets you do whatever it is you’re doing.

you want to do anything to break the tension and you’re given the opportunity when your eyesight drifts slightly to the right and catches onto the tattoo on her upper cheek.

“did you…tattoo your name on your face?”

you’re still so close you can feel her laugh rather than hear it, her chest pressing into your when she huffs through her nose.

“wanted to make sure the guys in there knew who was kicking their asses without the need for introductions.”

“still punching first yelling insults later?”

“nothing anybody in there didn’t deserve.”

gods does your heart hurt for her. you knew it was likely other people like her were probably in stillwater, disposed of to cover someone’s ass or see as thrash just for where they were born. but you knew despite that she would have faced so much being thrown in there at such a young age that you not anyone else could understand, the way they must have treated her…

even after all these years it’s like she can ready your body language like a book, able to know your fingers stalling in their exploration means your mind is wandering, and given the previous subject matter she knows it can’t be good. her bandaged fingers gently wrap around yours and rub over your knuckles until your attention is back on her.

“hey, stay with me for now. we’ll have time to go over all that stuff later. right now just stay with me, alright?”

like you could ever say no to her.

you figure the best way to make progress until your much needed conversation is yo acquaint her with where your sure she’ll be staying until she gets back on her feet, however she chooses to do so. at first she seems uncomfortable with the idea of staying at the base, like she doesn’t want to intrude on the home you and others had built from the ground up.

“obviously i’ll help with anything you guys ask but are you sure everyone would be alright with me staying here? i kind of punched the shit out of that scar guy.”

“he’ll get over it just like everyone else. you’re a legend here, vi, you’re up on that mural for a reason.”

the whole time you show vi around you feel a warm mess in your chest. you forgot just how nice it was to spend time with her, thinking back on fond memories of the two of you sneaking away when the others were busy to spend time together on the safer and quieter parts of the undercity. your feelings aren’t helped with how close vi insists on being, hand never leaving your grasp as you tug her around and occasionally bumping her shoulder into yours when your mind wanders.

you’re recounting the story of how one of the hoverboards went haywire and crashed into one of the bases walls when a low rumble from the side of you cuts you off, footsteps halting you in place. when you turn to vi she has that same cute embarrassed look she used to have when you were younger, eyes wide and body still like if she didn’t move you wouldn’t acknowledge what just happened.

she knows better than to argue with you as you drag her pliant body somewhere, most likely to get her something to eat after only having some scarfed down jerichos a few hours ago. you bc lead her to some small communal dining area before not so gently guiding her to sit, eyes on her form for a few seconds to make sure she won’t be stubborn and refuse to let you grab some food for her.

and why would she even think of resisting when she can sit here and finally get a few minutes to just relax. ever since cait somehow managed to get her out of prison her body had been on, sheer stubbornness and willpower keeping her going until she found what she was looking for. a part of her knew she wouldn’t stop searching, wouldn’t stop hoping to see you and her sister again.

but as she watches you across the room pick and prod over a meal a vastayan is helping to out on your plate her shoulders unclench and the muscles in her legs ease. nothing felt better than when you’d dote over her. she remembers one time she caught a flu and had to stay inside and distant from everyone, ready to be miserable in solitude until you burst in with vander hot on your heels and insisted you wouldn’t leave her side until she was better, that she’d do the same for you.

which she did have to wind up doing as you caught the sickness from her after only three days. she never once complained.

when you finish her plate you look back to her with a sweet smile and start to walk back over to her. she writhes in her seat a bit under your gaze, suddenly feeling a little too warm when you sit the plate in from of her and tell her to eat up. she tries her best not to scarf this down as well, but when you give her a look that says you know how hungry she she is and won’t mind she can’t help herself.

she spends the rest of the day by your side, never leaving your sight as you introduce her to some of your fellow firelights and some of the younger kids who’d heard stories about her and vander. you can tell it still prods at an unhealed wound to talk about him in past tense, but that she still looks back on those fond memories with happiness. you’re more than happy to join in and help narrate the tale of one of your more adventurous and dangerous trips through the old undercity.

eventually the sun starts to set and the lights of the tree turn from a dazzling green to a soft collection of oranges and yellow, a signal to everyone that it’s time to wind down and end the day. the two of you meet back of with ekko who tells you he had already shown cait to an extra room she could use for the next few days.

“cupcake didn’t put up too much of hassle today, did she? don’t think she’s ever spent this much time past the promenade.”

“she was alright. uptight but i can tell she means well. you can talk to her in the morning, her room is right across from yours.”

you’re paying too much attention to just being in the space of two of your favorite people again that you don’t even notice how vi has turned her head to look at you, silently asking you to ask her for what she hopes you both want. by the time you realize and turn back to ekko he has that dumb little grin on his face that he used to wear all the time he’d catch the two of you getting a little too close for comfort.

“don’t even start, ekko.”

“i didn’t say anything! i’ll catch up with you two tomorrow. try not to be so loud, some of us need a good nights sleep tonight-“

you quickly reach over and swat at the young boys arm as he laughs and hurries away from the two of you, voice carrying as he leaves to head off to sleep.

it’s surreal as you take vi’s hand into yours and start the brisk walk to your personal quarters. you don’t have any expectations about tonight but you can’t lie and say a deep part of yourself isn’t hoping to get more than close with her tonight.

once you reach your bedroom you start shuffling for some clothes for the both of you to wear while she prods and examines all of your things. you watch her for a moment, nearly giving yourself away with a laugh when she nearly breaks the dusty antique snow globe you’d found abandoned on a scrap run.

“it’s crazy, right? how they’ll just abandon things without even thinking about their worth.” you speak offhandedly as you settle yourself on to your bed and start to remove your boots and holsters.

“yeah, no offense but i just. really don’t wanna talk about abandoning things right now.” her tone is malicious enough to make you sit your movements, eyes softening at the broken and tired woman in front of you.

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no, no, it’s okay. i understand,” you gently reach out your hand to hold hers, locked in that tight fist she does when she’s bottling up her anger. “can you talk to me about it? whatever you want to say, just say it.”

she rolls her shoulder before setting down the globe and sitting on the bed, her tensed back facing you. you gently pass the spare clothes you have for her and watch as she takes them and sets them on her lap.

“every night for the first year i was in there i’d have these nightmares. about what happened. first it was just, replaying what happened on this endless loop. then it was wondering what i could’ve done different, if i could’ve been smarter-“

“vi dont do that,” you crawled over to sit right behind her body placed your hands on her shoulders, gently rubbing them across and down to her forearms. trying to look her in the eye proves useless. “what happened was…tragic, and blaming yourself is pointless. you did what you could, i know you did.”

“how? how could you possibly know?” she finally turns her head to you and the look in her eyes does nothing to help the sick feeling you have building up in your throat and stomach. “i told you to stay with ekko, you weren’t there. how could you not be even a little angry at me, for not being here for powder, for ekko and the firelights, for you?”

you can hear the lump in her throat and see the tears building in her eyes when you bring your hands up to cup her face. a stray tear runs down her face and you brush it away with your thumb.

“i could never be angry at you, vi. not for this. the girl i know always kept fighting for her family, and if she didn’t come back to us it was because she couldn’t. she’d never abandon us, you wouldn’t abandon us.”

she gently nods her head and nuzzles her face into your hands. you give her a minute to calm down, continuing to softly brush her cheeks and her crazy hair out of her eye.

“what is going on with your hair?” you whisper as you struggle to push a strand away and out of her face, giving up once it falls back into place for the tenth time.

her eyebrows scrunch. "what, you dont like it? its cool."

"its covering half of your face, its horrible."

"you'll get used to it." she shakes her head with a small smile before softly resting her hand on your lower waist.

"maybe, but im definitely not going to brush over you tattooing your name on your face. please tell me you didnt make any other rash b ody adjustments in there."

the growing smile on her simultaneously puts butterflies in your stomach and makes you very nervous. its not helped when she turns her back to you again and starts to shrug off her jacket, revealing the previous glimpse of her neck tattoo you'd seen goes further down. way further down.

"wow. that's...wow." you want to bury your head into your hands and leave the room. 'wow just wow?' really smooth. "can i touch?"

"uhhh yeah, no problem."

after she gives her consent your fingertips lightly hover and brush over the interlapping lines of curves inked into her skin. you feel a small thrill seeing the goosebumps rise on her arms when your hands glide down them, taking pride in knowing you can still bring out a physical reaction in her with your touch.

"this is really nice, vi. did you get someone in there to do it for you?"

"nope, did 'em both myself. wasn't exactly the best environment to ask people to have access to your body with a needle for hours at a time."

you hum in response while continuing to observe the tattoo. you can see it goes further down her back and decide to speak without thinking too much about what you're saying.

"can i see the rest of it?"

you're a bit scared at how still she goes, wondering if maybe you crossed a boundary before her hands slowly reach behind her and start to lift the white fabric of her shirt until its full taken off of her body.

you make sure to continue the gentle touches as your hands run down the muscles and planes of her back, continuing to admire the clouds and gears that make up the design. you feel a little pang in your heart when you see the initials of mylo and claggor at the bottom of the tattoo, along with the number of welts and scars on her skin.

"its beautiful, vi." you whisper. her body subtly scooches back on the bed to get closer to your touch. the moment is just shy of overwhelming, which is probably why you leave a small kiss on her shoulder, right where one of the scars starts before trailing down her back a few inches. she lets out a muffled noise and you start to pull away before the strong grip of her palm clasps down on your leg, holding you in place.

you leave more kisses and pecks over the length of her tattoo as your legs start to wrap around her from behind, both of her hands grasping your thighs as she relaxes into the affection. you test the waters when you come back up to her neck, lightly sinking your teeth into her skin.

"oh fuck-" her strained voice hits your ears right before she abruptly pulls out of your arms and tugs you by the arm and leg until your reversed, sitting in her lap with her hands gripping at your hips.

you continue to drag yours up and down her arms, reveling in the fact that you can now see her facial expressions, how her eyes droop and lips part as you slightly scratch at her skin.

you adjust your hips to sit closer to her at the same time she lifts hers up, the friction causing small noises to escape both of your throats. her eyes open up and she stares up at you with those big light blues.

your hand travels up to her hair, running through it as you keep looking at her. "are you sure? i dont wanna push you,"

"you wont, i do. please, just wanna be close to you."

you give in, wrapping your arms around her neck and bringing her into a sweet kiss, reveling in the feel of her arms coming up to grip on your back. its slow and languid as you get used to each other before she adds her tongue to the mix, pulling a moan from your throat as you try to bury yourself even closer into her hold.

you move your focus onto her neck, trailing kisses and bites down and across her throat, as she rocks your bodies together and claws at your back.

"used to dream about this, about you, missed you so much," her voice has a slight rasp to it already that drives you nuts, instantly darting back up to bring her into a messy kiss. she adjusts her knee to rest in between your legs and lifts it up into your core, pulling away to look at you as you moan at the friction.

"jeez, what'd they teach you in there?" you let out a breathy chuckle while you grind down into her knee. your eyes drift close before her gentle kiss to her cheek drags your gaze back to her, unblinking as she watches you come undone for her. her stare along with the hazy smile on her face yanks you to the edge, gasping and moaning as you come in her arms.

you feel almost drunk as you come down from your orgasm, nuzzling into her neck while she presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and the side of your neck. she starts to place your body on the bed before you tug her back on top of you.

"what, aren't you tired?"

"maybe, but not tired enough to stop now. take off your pants."

she grins like she'd just been offered free sweets from a piltovian candy shop for the rest of her life. you try not to giggle as she stumbles off the bed and tugs her pants off before settling her body back on top of yours. she resumes her barrage of kisses and bites into your skin, finally paying some attention to your chest while you bring your hands up to thumb at her nipples, biting your lip at how sensitive she is to the touch.

she wastes no time spreading your legs beneath you and getting your silent agreement before moving her lips to rest over yours, taking a second to drag her fingers through your cunt and stuffing them inside her mouth.

"vi!"

"sorry, was just curious." she leans down to kiss you sweetly before resting her self on you, legs draped over the curves of her arms as she oh so slowly starts to drag herself back and forth over you.

you slightly wish you had done this first as the overstimulation makes it oh so intense for you, the feeling of her hair and clit rubbing over yours nearly sending you into a frenzy. your eyes roll back into your head once she starts to speed up her movements, her soft whines and grunts into your neck only adding to the physical stimulation you're feeling.

your core feels like its on fire when you start to hear the subtle whispers she's letting out into your neck, curses of 'fuck, fuck oh-fuck,' and grunts of your name mix together to create a desperate harmony.

"vi, feels too- oh my god i-"

"i know, baby, i know," she moans, pressing a harsh bite into the underside of your neck. you can feel her smile into it when you involuntarily let out a squeal at the action. "never gonna leave you, pretty. could never leave you, leave this."

you never fancied yourself the possessive type, but the reaction you have to her words definitely proves there's something there as you wrap your hands around her shoulder and squish her down into you again, moaning just a little too loud at the lack of closeness and feeling of her chest rubbing against yours.

you can feel your next orgasm building quick and fast, thighs trembling as you desperately grind your hips into her even harder. you can tell she's close too, hips losing their rhythm as her panting gets even louder. you nudge your face to the side and rub your cheek against hers, thankful she gets the hint to smother both of your noises with an intense kiss.

"fuck, vi, missed you s'much, love this, love you-"

you're grateful that you have some semblance of brain activity left to drag her head down to your neck to bit down as she cums, her groan loud and long as she keeps moving her hips until you cum only a few seconds after she does. you can feel a tear or two escape your eyes, overstimulation so intense you think you see janna for a moment.

both of your chests are rapidly panting as you catch your breaths, dragging your hand through her sweaty hair while she presses gentle kisses over the marks she no doubt left over your chest. now you'll have to wear more layers for a while, but at the moment you cant find it in you to care.

"you have no idea how glad i am that i still have you," you almost dont pick up on the silent whisper she says, muffled by the current kisses. you lazily drag your fingers to lift her up by the chin until she's looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and affection.

"you're always gonna have me vi, i promise."

you can tell she has her doubts, you do as well. but she lets herself relax into your hand yet again and wears the tiniest smile while she starts to fall asleep in your embrace.

you gently pull the covers over both of your bodies and follow her into the lull of sleep, falling asleep in vi's arms again for the first time in years.

you have the nicest dreams you've had in years.

#still want her #throw me in the show id save her </3 #arcane #arcane x reader #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x reader fluff #vi x reader smut

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

The Perfect Mate

Day 28 → A/B/O 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, and breeding

Kinktober Masterlist

The news comes like a sudden storm, the kind that rolls in on a summer day when the skies were blue just moments before. You’re in the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. Your mother is at the stove, stirring something that smells faintly of rosemary and garlic, a comforting scent that usually makes you feel at home. But tonight, it’s different.

You can feel it in the air, the way your father is pacing by the window, his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying to keep something inside. Your mother’s voice is too steady when she finally speaks.

“We got a call today,” she says, without turning around. The spoon in her hand trembles slightly. “From the school.”

The school. The words drop into the room like stones, rippling through the quiet. You know what she’s going to say next, even before she says it. You’ve been dreading this conversation for weeks, ever since your first heat hit you like a freight train, your body burning with a fever you couldn’t understand.

“They’ve made a decision,” she continues, and now she turns, her eyes finding yours across the room. “They think it’s best if you … attend a different school. A special one.”

“A special school,” you echo, the words hollow in your mouth. You know what she means, even if she doesn’t say it outright. A school for omegas. The kind of place where they send girls like you, girls who’ve just discovered they aren’t like everyone else.

You stand there, frozen, while your father finally stops pacing. He comes to stand beside your mother, his face tight with the strain of holding back his thoughts. You’ve seen that look before, on the faces of other parents in town when they talk about “those schools,” the ones far away where no one can see what really happens inside. But now, it’s your parents standing there, and it’s you they’re talking about sending away.

“I don’t want to go,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I want to stay here.”

Your mother sighs, a soft, defeated sound, as she wipes her hands on a dish towel. “It’s not safe for you here anymore, sweetheart. Not now that you’ve … presented.”

Presented. It’s such a clinical word for something that feels anything but. You feel exposed, like your skin has been peeled back to reveal something raw and vulnerable underneath. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to protect yourself from the inevitability of it all.

“But what about my friends? What about school here?” Your voice cracks, and you hate how small you sound, how desperate.

“It’s only for a little while,” your father says, stepping forward. He’s trying to sound reassuring, but there’s an edge of worry in his voice that betrays him. “Just until you’ve had the training you need. Then you can come back.”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t need training. I’m fine the way I am.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N,” your mother says gently, moving closer. She reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away. “This is for your own good. There are things you need to learn … things we can’t teach you.”

“Like what?” You snap, anger flaring up to replace the fear. “How to be an obedient little omega? How to bow down to an alpha and let them control my life?”

“Y/N,” your father warns, but there’s no real force behind it. He’s just as lost as you are in this moment, and you can see it in the way his shoulders sag, the way his gaze shifts to the floor.

You look between the two of them, your parents who have always been your rock, and feel a chasm opening up between you. This is the moment when everything changes, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

“When do I have to go?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your mother hesitates, glancing at your father before she answers. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The word echoes in your mind, a death knell for everything you’ve known. There’s no time to say goodbye to your friends, no time to prepare yourself for what’s coming. It’s happening too fast, like a tidal wave sweeping you off your feet.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. You barely taste the food on your plate, pushing it around with your fork until your mother finally sighs and takes it away. You retreat to your room after that, curling up on your bed with your thoughts spinning like a storm.

The reality of it all doesn’t hit you until much later, when the house is dark and silent. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of what’s to come pressing down on your chest.

You’re leaving. You’re being sent away because you’re different, because you’re an omega. The word still feels foreign on your tongue, something that doesn’t belong to you. You’ve heard stories, of course, whispered in the halls at school, but they were always about other people, distant and unconnected to your life.

But now it’s you. You’re the one being whispered about, the one whose life is being uprooted. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

When morning comes, it’s like watching someone else’s life unfold in slow motion. Your mother helps you pack, her hands gentle as she folds your clothes and tucks them into the suitcase. Your father lingers in the doorway, trying to find the right words to say, but nothing comes out.

You don’t say much either. There’s nothing left to say. You’re numb, moving through the motions without really feeling anything. It’s easier that way, easier than letting the fear and anger take over.

The drive to the school is long and silent. Your parents don’t turn on the radio, and the only sound is the hum of the car’s engine and the occasional rustle of paper as your father checks the directions. You stare out the window, watching the world blur by in a wash of green and gray.

When you finally arrive, the school is nothing like you imagined. It’s a sprawling estate, with tall iron gates and manicured lawns that stretch out as far as the eye can see. It looks more like a prison than a school, and the sight of it makes your stomach churn.

Your mother parks the car, and you sit there for a moment, staring up at the imposing building. It feels like a bad dream, one you can’t wake up from.

“Are you ready?” Your father asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, even though you’re not. But what choice do you have?

They walk you to the gates, your suitcase rolling behind you on its tiny wheels. A woman in a crisp uniform meets you there, her smile too bright, too practiced. She introduces herself, but you barely catch her name. It doesn’t matter.

“This way, Y/N,” she says, leading you through the gates. Your parents follow behind, their footsteps heavy on the gravel path.

Inside, the school is just as cold and unwelcoming as the outside. The corridors are wide and echoing, with polished floors that reflect the fluorescent lights above. The woman leads you to an office, where you’re asked to sit while she speaks with your parents in hushed tones.

You sit there, staring at the walls, trying to hold yourself together. You can hear snippets of their conversation, words like “curriculum,” “discipline,” and “safety,” but they all blur together in a meaningless jumble.

Finally, your parents return. Your mother’s eyes are red-rimmed, and your father’s face is pale. They both hug you tightly, whispering words of reassurance that feel empty and hollow.

“We’ll come visit,” your mother says, her voice trembling. “As soon as we can.”

You nod, but you don’t really believe it. You can see the fear in their eyes, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. They don’t know any more than you do.

When they finally leave, it feels like the ground has been pulled out from under you. You’re alone, in a strange place that feels more like a cage than a school. You want to run, to escape, but there’s nowhere to go.

The woman who met you at the gate returns, her smile still fixed in place. She leads you to your dorm room, a small, sterile space with a single bed and a desk. Your suitcase is placed at the foot of the bed, a reminder of the life you’ve left behind.

“Get some rest,” she says, her tone brisk and efficient. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing to say. She leaves you there, closing the door softly behind her, and you’re left alone with your thoughts.

You sit on the bed, staring at the blank walls, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. You’re an omega. You’re in a school for omegas. And there’s no going back.

The tears come then, hot and silent, sliding down your cheeks as you curl up on the bed. You don’t know how long you lie there, crying until there are no tears left. You feel empty, hollowed out by the weight of it all.

Eventually, exhaustion pulls you under, and you drift into a restless sleep, your dreams filled with shadows and echoes of the life you’ve lost.

***

The days at the school have a way of blending together, each one indistinguishable from the next. Morning rolls into afternoon, which slides into evening, and soon enough, another day is gone. You’ve learned not to think too hard about time, how long you’ve been here, or how many more days you’ll have to endure. It’s easier that way.

There was a time when you counted the days, marking each one on a small calendar tucked away in your drawer. You kept track of your parents’ visits, circled in red ink, little reminders that they hadn’t forgotten you. But as the months turned into years, the red circles became fewer and farther between until they disappeared altogether.

You can barely remember the last time you saw their faces, the way your mother used to smooth your hair back with gentle fingers, or the way your father’s hugs felt strong and safe. They promised it would only be for a little while, just until you had learned what you needed to know, but that promise dissolved like sugar in water, leaving a bitter taste behind.

Now, all you know is this place, the routine that keeps you tethered to some semblance of sanity. Wake up at dawn. Breakfast in the dining hall. Classes in the morning — Etiquette, Obedience, Mating Practices — each lesson designed to mold you into the perfect omega. Lunch, more classes, then an hour of exercise before dinner. Evenings are quiet, filled with studying or silent contemplation in your room. Lights out at nine, and then it all begins again.

You’ve learned how to be a good omega. It’s second nature now, a reflex as automatic as breathing. You know how to keep your head down, how to smile politely, how to answer questions with soft, submissive tones. You know how to hide your emotions, how to tuck away the anger and fear that once simmered just beneath the surface. Those feelings have dulled over time, like a blade worn down from overuse.

The other girls are much the same. You’ve made a few friends — if you can call them that — but it’s hard to be close to anyone here. Everyone is too focused on survival, on making it through another day without drawing unwanted attention. You share polite conversations, exchange small smiles in passing, but there’s an unspoken understanding that it’s every omega for herself.

It’s a Tuesday evening when everything changes. You’re gathered in the dining hall, the long tables lined with girls dressed in identical uniforms, their heads bowed over plates of bland, tasteless food. The room is filled with the clatter of utensils and the murmur of quiet conversation, the same as it always is.

But tonight, there’s a different energy in the air, a tension that makes your skin prickle with unease. You notice it in the way the other girls are sitting a little straighter, their eyes darting toward the head of the room where the headmistress stands, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd.

You don’t look directly at her — no one ever does — but you can feel her presence like a weight pressing down on your shoulders. The headmistress is a tall, severe woman with iron-gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She commands the room with an authority that brooks no defiance, and when she speaks, everyone listens.

“Good evening, girls,” she begins, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation like a knife. The room falls silent immediately, all eyes fixed on their plates as she continues. “I have an important announcement to make.”

You steal a glance at the girl sitting next to you, a slight, mousy-haired omega named Emily. Her hands are clenched in her lap, her knuckles white, and you can see the same fear mirrored in her wide eyes.

The headmistress pauses, letting the silence stretch out until it’s almost unbearable. Finally, she speaks again, her tone measured and calm. “As you all know, we are approaching a very special time of year. In just a few weeks, we will be hosting our annual adoption day.”

A collective shiver runs through the room, a ripple of unease that you can feel in your bones. Adoption day. The words hang heavy in the air, charged with a meaning that everyone understands but no one dares to speak aloud.

“This is a significant event,” the headmistress continues, her gaze sweeping the room. “It is a time when alphas from all over the continent come to our school to choose which one of you will become their mate.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your stomach twisting into knots. You’ve heard about adoption day, of course. It’s the day every omega dreads and hopes for in equal measure. The day when your future is decided, when you are chosen — or not — by an alpha who will take you away from this place. It’s supposed to be an honor, a privilege, but you know the truth. It’s a sentence, a life chosen for you, one you have no say in.

“Over the next few weeks,” the headmistress says, “you will be preparing for this event. You must be on your best behavior at all times. The alphas who come here expect nothing less than perfection, and it is our duty to ensure that you meet their expectations.”

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she surveys the room. “You will be evaluated on your obedience, your manners, your appearance, and your ability to perform the duties expected of an omega. Failure to meet these standards will result in … consequences.”

The word lingers in the air, heavy with unspoken threats. You know what she means. You’ve seen what happens to the girls who fail, who don’t measure up. They’re sent away, to places even worse than this, places where omegas are little more than property, where they’re broken down until there’s nothing left of them.

You swallow hard, trying to push down the rising tide of panic. You’ve been good, you remind yourself. You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, followed every rule, learned every lesson. But the fear gnaws at you, a constant, insidious whisper in the back of your mind.

The headmistress gives a tight, satisfied nod. “I trust that you will all rise to the occasion. This is your chance to prove your worth, to show the alphas that you are deserving of their attention. Do not disappoint me.”

With that, she turns and strides out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. No one moves, no one speaks, the weight of her words pressing down on all of you.

Emily is the first to break the silence, her voice trembling. “Adoption day … I thought it wasn’t for another few months.”

“They moved it up,” says another girl across the table, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s sooner this year.”

You can feel the tension in the room ratchet up another notch, the fear palpable. Everyone is thinking the same thing: sooner means less time to prepare, less time to make yourself worthy of being chosen.

“What are we going to do?” Emily asks, her voice small and shaky. “What if … what if no one picks us?”

The question hangs in the air, the unspoken fear that everyone is too afraid to voice. What if no one chooses you? What happens then?

“We just have to be perfect,” says another girl, her voice tinged with desperation. “We can’t make any mistakes. We have to be exactly what they want.”

“What if that’s not enough?” Someone else murmurs, and the question sends a chill down your spine.

You stare at your plate, your appetite long gone. The food sits untouched, congealing in the dim light of the dining hall. You know you should say something, offer some kind of reassurance, but the words stick in your throat. What can you say? How can you comfort anyone when you’re just as terrified as they are?

Instead, you focus on breathing, on keeping yourself calm. You’ve been through worse, you tell yourself. You’ve survived this place for years, learned how to navigate its dangers, how to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. You can survive this too.

But deep down, you know that this is different. This isn’t just another test or lesson. This is your future, your entire life hanging in the balance, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.

The rest of the meal passes in a tense, uncomfortable silence. No one speaks, no one even looks at each other. The only sound is the clatter of dishes as the kitchen staff clears away the plates, their movements brisk and efficient.

When the meal is finally over, you file out of the dining hall with the other girls, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The usual chatter and laughter are absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. Everyone is lost in their own thoughts, their own fears.

Back in your room, you close the door and sink down onto the bed, your mind racing. Adoption day. The words echo in your head, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety. You try to push the thoughts away, to focus on something else, but it’s no use. The fear is too strong, too consuming.

You lie there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm the storm inside you. But no matter how hard you try, the fear lingers, a dark shadow that refuses to be banished.

You’re not ready for this. None of you are. But it doesn’t matter. Adoption day is coming, whether you’re ready or not.

***

Oscar Piastri doesn’t let his emotions show, not when he crosses the finish line, not even when the roar of the crowd hits him like a physical wave. It’s a monumental moment, the kind of victory that defines a career. His first win in Formula 1, and he’s only just begun. He keeps his face impassive as he steps out of the car, giving a quick nod to the team that rushes toward him. His hands are still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving behind a strange emptiness that gnaws at him as he makes his way through the post-race chaos. Congratulations are thrown his way, hands clapping his back, but it all feels distant, like he’s watching it from somewhere else. This is supposed to be the pinnacle, the culmination of years of hard work, but instead, it feels … muted. He’s already thinking about the next race, the next victory, how he can improve.

In the quiet of the team’s private room, Zak Brown walks in, a broad smile on his face. He’s the kind of man who fills up the space just by being in it, his presence magnetic, commanding. Oscar looks up from where he’s sitting, unlacing his gloves methodically, and meets Zak’s eyes.

“Congratulations, Oscar. First of many, I’m sure.” Zak’s voice is warm, but there’s an edge to it, something unspoken hanging in the air.

“Thank you,” Oscar replies, his tone measured, controlled. He’s careful with his words, always. Never lets anything slip.

Zak takes a seat across from him, leaning back casually. There’s a glint in his eyes, something calculating. “You’ve made quite an impression today. The team is proud of you.”

Oscar nods, but he can tell there’s more coming. Zak doesn’t waste time with pleasantries unless there’s something else he wants to discuss. He waits, patient, knowing that Zak will get to the point when he’s ready.

Finally, Zak leans forward, his expression serious. “You’ve proven yourself, Oscar. And with that comes certain … privileges. Opportunities that are only available to those who reach the top.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, intrigued. He’s heard whispers of the kind of rewards that come with success, but he’s never paid them much attention. He’s focused on one thing — winning. Everything else is secondary.

Zak watches him closely, gauging his reaction. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Oscar stays silent, waiting for Zak to continue. He’s not about to show his hand, not yet.

“There’s a tradition in this sport,” Zak says slowly, choosing his words carefully. “When an alpha driver wins their first race, they’re given the chance to choose an omega. It’s a recognition of your status, your dominance. It’s something that’s been done quietly, behind closed doors, for decades.”

Oscar keeps his expression neutral, though his interest is piqued. He’s aware of the dynamics in the world, the power and control that come with being an alpha. But this — this is new. He’s never been one to indulge in the usual trappings of success. He’s always been too focused, too driven to let anything distract him. But this … this is different.

Zak smiles, seeing the curiosity flicker in Oscar’s eyes. “You’ve earned this, Oscar. You’re one of the best, and you deserve the best. That’s why I’m telling you about the upcoming adoption day.”

Oscar’s gaze sharpens. “Adoption day?”

“It’s an event held at the most prestigious omega training school in Europe,” Zak explains. “Only the top omegas are put up for adoption, the ones who have been trained to perfection. They’re chosen by alphas who have proven themselves — like you. It’s not something that’s widely advertised, but those in the know understand its significance.”

There’s a pause as Oscar processes the information. The idea of choosing an omega, someone trained specifically for him, tailored to his needs, is both intriguing and unsettling. He’s always been in control, always made his own decisions, but this is different. This is a life he’s being asked to shape, to take responsibility for.

“What makes this school so special?” He asks, his voice calm, steady.

Zak leans back, crossing his arms. “The omegas there are trained from a young age. They’re taught everything — how to please their alpha, how to be obedient, how to fulfill their roles perfectly. They’re the best of the best, Oscar. There’s no risk, no uncertainty. Any omega you choose from that school will be exactly what you need.”

Oscar considers this. The idea of having an omega, someone who’s been trained to understand him, to know what he needs without him having to say it … there’s a certain appeal in that. He’s always been surrounded by people who expect something from him, who look to him for leadership, guidance. But this would be different. This would be someone who exists solely for him, who understands her place.

“There’s no obligation,” Zak adds, watching Oscar carefully. “If you’re not interested, you can walk away. But if you are … it’s a rare opportunity.”

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. He’s weighing the options, the consequences. He’s always been careful, methodical in his decisions. But he can’t deny the temptation, the curiosity that’s starting to take root.

“When is it?” He finally asks, his voice giving nothing away.

Zak’s smile widens, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. “In a few weeks. We can arrange everything for you — discretion guaranteed. You won’t have to worry about the media or anyone else finding out. This is strictly between you and the school.”

Oscar nods slowly, his mind already working through the possibilities. It’s a lot to take in, but he’s not one to shy away from something just because it’s unfamiliar. If anything, the challenge of it, the control it represents, is what draws him in.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, his tone decisive, leaving no room for further discussion.

Zak rises, clearly satisfied with Oscar’s response. “Take your time. There’s no rush. But remember, opportunities like this don’t come around often.”

Oscar stands as well, shaking Zak’s hand. “I understand. Thank you.”

As Zak leaves the room, Oscar is left alone with his thoughts. The noise of the celebrations outside is a distant hum, and he finds himself pacing, the adrenaline from the race still thrumming through his veins.

He’s never been one for the typical alpha-omega dynamics. He’s always valued independence, his ability to navigate the world on his terms. But this … this is something else. The idea of having an omega, someone trained to understand him, to be exactly what he needs, it’s both thrilling and terrifying.

He knows what’s expected of him. As an alpha, as a champion, there’s a certain image to uphold, certain roles to fulfill. But he’s never been one to simply do what’s expected. He’s always pushed the boundaries, challenged the norms.

Oscar stops pacing, his mind made up. He’ll go to this adoption day. He’ll see for himself what this school has to offer. But he won’t make any decisions until he’s certain. This is too important, too personal to rush into.

But deep down, he knows that the decision is already half-made. The idea has taken root, and it’s only a matter of time before it blooms into something more.

With a final glance around the empty room, Oscar leaves, heading back to the celebrations. There’s still a victory to enjoy, a race to celebrate. But in the back of his mind, the thought of adoption day lingers, a tantalizing possibility that he can’t quite shake.

As the night wears on, surrounded by his team, the media, the fans, Oscar can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have an omega by his side. Not just any omega, but one who’s been trained specifically for him, someone who understands him in a way no one else does.

The idea is intoxicating, and for the first time in a long while, Oscar feels something stir inside him — a hunger, a desire for more than just victory on the track. He wants control, he wants power, and maybe, just maybe, he wants someone to share it with.

But not just anyone. It has to be the right omega. The perfect one.

As the night winds down, and the celebrations give way to the quiet of his hotel room, Oscar lies awake, his mind racing. He’s never been one to second-guess his decisions, and he knows this won’t be any different.

He’s going to that adoption day. And he’s going to find the omega that’s meant for him.

***

The morning is cold, colder than it has any right to be for early September. You’re standing in line with the other omegas, every one of you wearing the same pristine white dresses that flutter slightly in the breeze. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and the world is cloaked in that quiet, expectant blue that only exists before dawn. You can feel the nervous energy crackling in the air, though no one dares to show it.

You’ve been preparing for this day for as long as you can remember. Every lesson, every order, every correction has led to this moment, and yet you feel more like an imposter than ever. Your hands tremble slightly as you clasp them in front of you, willing the nerves to subside. You can’t afford to look weak now, not when everything is at stake.

The headmistress is pacing in front of the line, her sharp eyes taking in each omega with a practiced gaze. She’s dressed impeccably, as always, her posture a perfect representation of control. “Remember, girls,” she says, her voice slicing through the silence, “today is your chance to prove your worth. You’ve been trained for this moment. Do not embarrass yourselves, or this school.”

You swallow hard, keeping your gaze straight ahead, though every instinct is screaming at you to run. You can’t, though. There’s no place to go, and you know it. This is your life now, and you have to make the best of it.

The first of the alphas start to arrive, their footsteps echoing ominously as they enter the grand hall. You can hear their low voices, the murmur of conversation as they evaluate the line of omegas, as if you’re nothing more than merchandise on display. You keep your eyes down, as you’ve been taught, but your heart is hammering so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear it.

One by one, they move past you, some taking a moment to appraise you before moving on, others barely sparing you a glance. The tension builds with each alpha that passes, your nerves fraying more and more. You want to shrink away, to make yourself invisible, but you know that’s the last thing you should do. Instead, you focus on keeping your breathing steady, on maintaining the composed exterior you’ve been drilled to perfect.

Then you hear the headmistress speak, her voice softer, almost deferential. “Mr. Piastri,” she says, and you feel your breath catch.

You’ve heard whispers about him, the young alpha who’s taken the racing world by storm, his name a force to be reckoned with even outside the omega circles. You’ve imagined what he might be like, but nothing could prepare you for the reality.

You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his gaze as he approaches. There’s something different about the way he moves, the way the other alphas seem to step aside for him, as if acknowledging his dominance without a word. He stops in front of you, and for the first time, you dare to lift your eyes.

Oscar Piastri is taller than you expected, his presence somehow larger than life. His face is expressionless, unreadable, but his eyes … his eyes are sharp, assessing, as if he’s looking right through you, stripping away every defense you’ve carefully built.

He says nothing at first, just studies you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you’ve never experienced before. The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of silence.

You don’t move, don’t breathe, barely even blink. Your whole body is tense, waiting for his judgment, his decision. You don’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty is unbearable.

Then, slowly, he reaches out, his fingers brushing your chin. The touch is light, almost delicate, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze fully. There’s a pause, a moment where everything hangs in the balance, and you feel like you might break under the pressure.

But you don’t. You can’t. You’ve been trained for this, prepared for this moment, and you will not fail.

Oscar’s eyes search yours, and you wonder what he’s looking for. Strength? Weakness? He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it’s dizzying, overwhelming in a way you can’t quite describe.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he turns to the headmistress. “I want this one,” he says, his voice calm, decisive.

The headmistress smiles, a tight, satisfied expression, as if she expected nothing less. “Of course, Mr. Piastri,” she replies smoothly. “She’s one of our finest.”

There’s a rush of relief that crashes over you, mixed with a new kind of fear. He’s chosen you. Out of all the omegas here, he’s chosen you. It should be a victory, but all you feel is a creeping sense of dread. What does this mean for you? What will your life be like now?

Oscar’s hand drops from your chin, and you lower your gaze again, as you’ve been taught. You can still feel the imprint of his touch, like a brand on your skin. The other omegas around you are silent, but you can sense their curiosity, their jealousy, their relief that they weren’t chosen.

“Prepare her things,” Oscar says to the headmistress, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll be leaving with her shortly.”

“Of course,” the headmistress repeats, her voice smooth, almost too smooth. She turns to you, her expression hardening. “You heard him. Go with Miss Parker to gather your belongings.”

You nod, obediently turning to follow Miss Parker, who gives you a curt nod before leading the way out of the hall. Your mind is spinning, your emotions a tangled mess of fear, confusion, and something else — something that feels dangerously like excitement.

As you walk down the corridor, away from the other omegas and the alphas who are still making their selections, you steal a glance back at Oscar. He’s already moving on, his focus shifting to some conversation with the headmistress, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s still aware of you, even if he’s not looking your way.

Miss Parker doesn’t speak as she guides you to your room. There’s no need for words. You know what’s expected of you. You’ve always known.

When you reach your room, the small space that’s been your whole world for so long, Miss Parker hands you a simple, nondescript suitcase. “Pack quickly,” she says, her voice brusque but not unkind. “Mr. Piastri won’t want to wait.”

You nod again, mechanically moving to gather your things. There’s not much to take — just a few pieces of clothing, some personal items that you’ve been allowed to keep, all of it carefully selected to fit the image of the perfect omega. As you pack, you try to steady your breathing, to push back the rising tide of panic.

This is it. This is what you’ve been trained for, what your whole life has been leading to. And yet, standing here, on the edge of the unknown, you feel more lost than ever.

Miss Parker watches you, her expression unreadable. You wonder if she feels anything at all, if she remembers what it’s like to be in your position, or if she’s long since forgotten what it means to be afraid.

When you’re done, you stand, holding the suitcase tightly in your hands. Miss Parker gives a small nod of approval. “Good. Now, remember what you’ve been taught. Mr. Piastri is your alpha now. You will obey him in all things, without question.”

“I understand,” you reply, your voice steady, though you’re not sure how.

“Then let’s go,” Miss Parker says, turning on her heel and leading the way back down the corridor.

The walk back to the grand hall feels shorter, as if time is compressing around you. Before you know it, you’re standing in front of Oscar again, the suitcase a heavy weight in your hands.

He glances at it, then at you, his expression still inscrutable. “Ready?” He asks, though it’s clear he expects no answer but one.

“Yes,” you say quietly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Good,” Oscar says, his tone final. He turns to the headmistress, giving her a brief nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Of course, Mr. Piastri,” the headmistress says, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “We wish you and your new omega all the best.”

Oscar says nothing in return, just takes your suitcase from you with one hand, his grip firm, and gestures for you to follow him. You do, of course, because what else can you do? This is your life now, whatever that means.

As you leave the school, stepping out into the crisp morning air, you feel a strange mix of emotions — fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something that feels almost like hope. Maybe this will be better. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you fear.

You steal a glance at Oscar as he walks beside you, his expression still impassive, but there’s a calmness about him, a quiet strength that’s undeniable. He’s your alpha now, and while the thought terrifies you, there’s also a small, tentative part of you that wonders if maybe, just maybe, this is how it’s supposed to be.

***

Oscar stands in the grand entrance of the school, his eyes sweeping across the opulent hall as he takes in the scene. Everything about this place exudes prestige, from the intricate detailing on the marble floors to the quiet efficiency with which the staff move about. This is where the finest omegas in Europe are trained, where alphas come to find their perfect matches. He’s never been one to doubt his choices, but today, there’s an edge of curiosity that’s unfamiliar, even unsettling.

“Mr. Piastri,” the headmistress greets him, her voice smooth and practiced, an air of deference in her tone. “We’re honored to have you here.”

He nods, acknowledging her words without much thought. His mind is elsewhere, focused on the task ahead. He’s done his research, learned about this place, about the selection process. He knows what he’s looking for, or at least he thinks he does. It’s supposed to be straightforward — a practical decision, not one driven by sentiment or instinct. But even as he tells himself that, there’s a part of him that knows better.

“Shall we begin?” The headmistress asks, her eyes watching him carefully, as if she’s trying to gauge his mood.

“Yes,” Oscar says simply, his voice even, controlled. There’s no need for pretense; he knows his presence here speaks for itself.

She leads him into the hall where the omegas are gathered, all dressed in identical white dresses, their heads bowed slightly in a show of submission. It’s a carefully curated display, one meant to impress, to showcase their training. But as Oscar enters the room, a different sense takes over.

It’s the scent that hits him first, a mixture of soft florals and something else, something sweeter, more intoxicating. It’s subtle, almost elusive, yet it cuts through the air like a sharp blade, setting his senses on high alert. For a moment, he’s thrown off balance, the unexpectedness of it catching him off guard.

He’s been around omegas before, of course. He knows how their pheromones work, how they can influence alphas, but this … this is different. This scent isn’t just pleasant, it’s magnetic, pulling at something deep within him that he hadn’t even realized was there. He finds himself scanning the line of omegas, searching for the source, his heartbeat quickening despite his attempts to stay composed.

“Mr. Piastri?” The headmistress’ voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. She’s watching him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Oscar says, waving her off as if everything is under control. He’s used to this, the scrutiny, the expectations. But right now, there’s something else at play, something he’s not sure how to navigate.

He moves down the line, his eyes sliding over the faces of the omegas, trying to identify the one whose scent has captivated him so thoroughly. There are many who glance up at him, hopeful, eager for his attention, but none of them seem to be the one he’s looking for.

Then, he sees you.

You’re standing near the end of the line, your posture perfect, your head slightly bowed like the others. But there’s something about the way you hold yourself, something different. And then there’s the scent — the one that’s been driving him to distraction since he walked in. It’s stronger here, more potent, wrapping around him and holding him in place.

Oscar’s steps slow as he approaches you, his gaze narrowing as he studies you more closely. You’re trembling slightly, he notices, though you’re doing your best to hide it. There’s a fragility to you, an air of vulnerability that he wasn’t expecting. But beneath that, there’s something else — an inner strength, a quiet resilience that draws him in even further.

Without thinking, he reaches out, tipping your chin up so he can see your face. The moment your eyes meet his, something clicks into place, something he can’t quite put into words. You’re beautiful, yes, but that’s not what’s holding his attention. It’s the way you look at him, a mix of fear and determination, as if you’re ready for whatever comes next, even if it terrifies you.

Oscar takes his time, letting the moment stretch out, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. Your scent is everywhere now, filling his lungs, clouding his thoughts. He knows he should be more objective, more calculating, but for the first time in a long time, he can’t bring himself to care.

“She’s one of our finest,” the headmistress says, her voice cutting into the moment like a knife. Oscar barely registers her words, his focus entirely on you.

“I want this one,” he says, his voice steady, final. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. He knows what he wants, and he’s not going to waste any time pretending otherwise.

The headmistress nods, clearly pleased. “Of course, Mr. Piastri.”

Oscar lets go of your chin, watching as you lower your gaze once more, obediently stepping back. The connection between you isn’t severed, though; if anything, it’s stronger now, more tangible. He feels it in the way his chest tightens, the way his instincts are screaming at him to keep you close, to never let you out of his sight.

He steps back, allowing the headmistress to take over, but his eyes never leave you. Even as she instructs you to gather your things, even as you turn to follow her orders, his focus remains on you. He’s never been one to act on impulse, to let his emotions dictate his actions, but right now, all he can think about is how he needs to get you out of here, to take you away from this place and claim you as his.

It’s irrational, and he knows it. But it’s also undeniable.

The minutes that pass feel like hours, each second dragging as he waits for you to return. He finds himself pacing, a rare show of impatience, his mind racing with possibilities. What will you be like, once you’re away from here? Will you still be this quiet, this controlled? Or will you reveal a different side of yourself, something more untamed?

When you finally reappear, suitcase in hand, Oscar feels a surge of something close to relief. You’re here, and you’re his, and that knowledge settles something deep within him. He reaches out, taking the suitcase from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment. The contact sends a jolt through him, and he wonders if you feel it too, if you’re as affected by this as he is.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice softer now, though still firm.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. It’s all he needs to hear.

He turns to the headmistress, giving her a curt nod. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“It’s been our pleasure, Mr. Piastri,” she says, her tone just as polished as before, though there’s an undercurrent of satisfaction now. She’s done her job, and she knows it.

Oscar doesn’t waste any more time. He takes your hand, guiding you out of the hall and into the cool morning air. His grip is firm, possessive, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

As you walk beside him, he feels that same pull, that same magnetic force that’s been with him since the moment he caught your scent. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and he knows he’s in dangerous territory, but there’s no going back now. He’s made his choice, and he’s going to see it through.

The car is waiting at the curb, sleek and black, and Oscar opens the door for you, gesturing for you to get in. You do so without hesitation, and he follows, settling into the seat beside you.

The driver doesn’t say a word, just starts the engine and pulls away from the school. Oscar glances over at you, taking in the way you’re sitting so still, your hands folded neatly in your lap. There’s a tension in your posture, a lingering uncertainty, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going through your mind.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You nod, though it’s clear you’re still on edge. “Yes, Mr. Piastri.”

“Oscar,” he corrects, his tone gentler now. “You can call me Oscar.”

You hesitate, as if you’re not sure if it’s a test. “Oscar,” you repeat softly, and the sound of your voice saying his name sends a shiver down his spine.

There’s so much he wants to say, so many questions he wants to ask, but he holds back, giving you time to adjust. He knows this is overwhelming for you, that you’re probably terrified, but he also knows that you’re strong, that you’ve already proven yourself in ways that matter to him.

As the car speeds down the empty roads, Oscar leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. He can’t predict what the future holds, can’t say for certain how this will all play out, but one thing is clear: you’re his now, and he’s not going to let anything come between you.

The scent that first drew him to you still lingers in the air, a constant reminder of the bond that’s forming between you. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and he’s not sure how to navigate it, but he knows one thing for sure — he’s not going to let you go. Not now, not ever.

***

The cabin of the private jet hums with a quiet, luxurious calm, a stark contrast to the swirling storm of emotions inside you. You’re seated in a plush leather chair, staring out at the expanse of sky through the window. Clouds drift lazily by, but your thoughts are anything but tranquil.

Oscar sits across from you, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He’s been on his phone, dealing with some business matter, but even so, his presence dominates the space. You’ve barely spoken since boarding the jet, and every minute that passes feels like an eternity.

You steal a glance at him, trying to read the expression on his face, but it’s as composed as ever. You wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s having second thoughts. Your stomach twists with anxiety, not just from the uncertainty of what’s to come, but from something deeper, something that’s been building inside you ever since this morning.

Oscar finishes his call, slipping the phone into his pocket as he turns his attention fully to you. The weight of his gaze is almost unbearable, and you quickly lower your eyes, focusing on the smooth leather of the seat beneath your fingers.

“Monaco,” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is rich, deep, and it pulls your attention back to him. “I have an apartment there. That’s where we’ll be staying.”

Monaco. The name conjures images of sun-soaked coastlines, of wealth and glamour that you’ve only ever heard about. But all of that feels distant, almost unreal, compared to the reality of what you’re feeling right now.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles slightly.

Oscar watches you closely, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Something’s on your mind,” he states rather than asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, but the authority in his voice leaves no room for avoidance.

You hesitate, unsure of how to even begin. The words stick in your throat, the truth too uncomfortable to voice, but you know you can’t keep it hidden. Not from him. Not when it’s so important.

“They …” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “They gave us something … this morning.”

Oscar’s brows draw together, his expression shifting to one of concern mixed with something darker, more dangerous. “What do you mean?”

“They gave us heat inducers,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. You don’t dare look at him, instead focusing on your hands as they clench and unclench nervously in your lap. “They wanted to make sure that if any of us were taken by an alpha today, our heats would start soon. So that … so that we could be … mated as quickly as possible.”

The silence that follows is heavy, oppressive. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you don’t dare look up, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

Then, there’s a low, rumbling growl that reverberates through the cabin. It’s a sound that sends a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. You risk a glance at Oscar, and what you see in his expression nearly takes your breath away.

His eyes have darkened, his jaw clenched tightly as he processes what you’ve just told him. There’s a fierce protectiveness in his gaze, but also something more primal, something that calls to the omega in you.

“How long?” He asks, his voice rougher now, as if he’s barely restraining himself.

“I … I don’t know,” you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. “It’s already starting. I can feel it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stands, moving with a predatory grace that sends your pulse racing. He crosses the small distance between you in just a few steps, and before you know it, he’s kneeling in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees.

The touch is electric, sending heat rushing through your veins. You gasp softly, instinctively trying to pull back, but Oscar’s grip tightens, holding you in place.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

You obey, lifting your eyes to meet his. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel yourself trembling under the weight of it.

“You’re mine now,” Oscar says, his tone possessive, yet there’s a tenderness there too, something that reassures you even as it stokes the flames of your heat. “Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. But it’s the truth. You’ve known it from the moment he chose you, from the moment his hand touched your chin and your world tilted on its axis.

Oscar’s eyes soften slightly at your answer, but the fire in them remains. He reaches up, his fingers brushing against your neck, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear where your mating gland is. The contact sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing gently over your gland, his touch both soothing and maddeningly arousing. “When the time comes, I’ll make sure you feel good. I’ll make sure you know exactly who you belong to.”

The promise in his words sends a wave of heat crashing through you, and you shudder, unable to contain the small whimper that slips out.

Oscar’s grip on you tightens for just a moment, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you to tell me everything you’re feeling,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “No hiding, no holding back. Understand?”

“Yes,” you manage to say, though it’s more of a breathless gasp than a proper response. Your mind is spinning, the heat building steadily inside you, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation.

He studies you for a moment longer, as if assessing your readiness, then slowly rises to his feet, pulling you up with him. The sudden change in position makes your head spin, and you find yourself leaning into him for support, your body seeking out his warmth instinctively.

Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he guides you to the couch on the other side of the cabin. He sits down first, then pulls you onto his lap, positioning you so that you’re straddling his thighs, your bodies pressed together intimately.

The new position brings your core into direct contact with the hard length of him, and the sensation is enough to make you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, your body responding to his in ways you’ve never experienced before.

“Tell me what you need,” Oscar demands, his hands settling on your hips, holding you firmly in place. The look in his eyes is dark, intense, and it makes your heart race faster.

You hesitate, your mind foggy with desire, unsure of how to put your needs into words. But the pressure of his hands, the way he’s looking at you, tells you that he’s not going to let you avoid the question.

“I … I need you,” you finally admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Please … it’s so hot, and I can’t … I can’t think straight.”

Oscar’s eyes flash with something predatory, and he shifts beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening. “That’s because your body knows exactly what it needs,” he says, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “It’s instinct, omega. And it’s only going to get stronger.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to let go,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t fight it. I’ll take care of everything.”

You moan softly, the sound involuntary as his words sink into your mind, the command laced with something deeper, something that resonates with the omega inside you.

Oscar’s hands begin to move, one sliding up your back to cradle the nape of your neck, the other slipping down to cup your ass, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you is palpable, and you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body readying itself for what’s to come.

“Good girl,” Oscar murmurs, his voice filled with approval. The praise makes you whimper, your body arching into his touch, desperate for more.

He chuckles softly, a sound that’s equal parts amusement and satisfaction. “You’re already so responsive,” he notes, his hand sliding up your thigh to the hem of your dress, fingers teasing the sensitive skin there. “It won’t be long now.”

You can feel the truth in his words, the heat inside you building to a fever pitch, your body trembling with need. It’s almost unbearable, the ache, the hunger, and you press yourself against him, seeking out any form of relief.

Oscar’s fingers trail higher, pushing the fabric of your dress up your thighs, exposing more of your skin to the cool air of the cabin. The contrast only heightens your arousal, and you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as your hips start to move instinctively, grinding against him.

“Shh,” Oscar soothes, his hand sliding up your back to cradle your head, guiding you to rest your forehead against his shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s hard. But I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you.”

Oscar’s touch is electric, his fingers gliding with a deliberate slowness up the inside of your thigh. The sensation sends shivers through you, your body reacting to every subtle movement. You cling to him, your breath ragged, heart pounding in your chest as the heat deepens, spreading like wildfire.

He’s still cradling you on his lap, his other hand steady at the nape of your neck, holding you close to him. The intimacy of the moment is almost too much to bear, and yet, you crave more. The pressure building inside you is overwhelming, a desperate need that only he can satisfy.

Oscar’s hand inches higher, slipping beneath the thin fabric of your panties. The touch of his fingers against your slick folds draws a gasp from your lips, your hips instinctively bucking against his hand. He hums in approval, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Your body’s more than ready, isn’t it?”

You can only manage a breathless nod in response, your mind too clouded with desire to form coherent words. His fingers explore with a deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of your body, heightening your arousal with every teasing stroke. When he finally brushes against your swollen clit, your body jerks, a soft cry escaping your lips.

Oscar’s grip tightens slightly, holding you in place as his fingers begin to move in slow, torturous circles. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet it’s not enough — nowhere near enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger inside you. The need for more, for him, drives you to the brink of madness, and you find yourself whining, pleading with him for release.

“Please, Oscar … more … I need more …” Your voice is a desperate whimper, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

But Oscar doesn’t relent, doesn’t give you what you’re begging for. Instead, he keeps his movements slow, controlled, as if testing your limits. His touch is maddeningly precise, each brush of his fingers sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, yet never quite enough to push you over the edge.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice soothing but firm. “You’re not ready. Not here.”

His words are both a comfort and a torment. You understand what he’s doing, why he’s holding back, but it doesn’t make the ache inside you any less excruciating. The heat is becoming unbearable, and you grind yourself against his hand, seeking more friction, more anything, to ease the burning need.

Oscar’s fingers dip lower, sliding inside you with agonizing slowness, and you cry out, the sensation almost too much to bear. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust, his other hand gently stroking your back as you pant against his neck.

“So tight,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his voice laced with a mix of pride and possessiveness. “You’re going to feel so good around me when the time comes.”

You whimper at his words, the thought of what’s to come sending another rush of heat through you. But just as you start to lose yourself in the pleasure, in the feeling of his fingers moving inside you, the jet gives a sudden lurch, signaling the start of your descent.

Oscar’s touch freezes, and you blink in confusion, your dazed mind struggling to comprehend what’s happening. His hand slips from between your thighs, and you make a small sound of protest, your body trembling with the sudden loss of contact.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But we’re landing. We have to wait.”

“No …” The word slips out before you can stop it, a pitiful, desperate plea. The idea of stopping now, of having to endure this unbearable heat without relief, is almost too much to bear. “Please … don’t stop …”

Oscar sighs, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, gently tilting your head back so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes now, a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the heat between you.

“Not here,” he says firmly, though there’s a note of apology in his voice. “When we get to the apartment, I promise I’ll take care of you. But not here.”

You shake your head, tears of frustration and need welling up in your eyes. The logical part of you understands — knows that he’s right — but the omega in you, the part that’s driven by instinct and need, doesn’t care. You need him, now, and the idea of waiting feels impossible.

Oscar’s thumb strokes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know it’s hard,” he murmurs against your skin. “But I want our first time to be special. Not rushed, not in some cramped cabin. You deserve more than that.”

His words, his touch, they soothe you, if only slightly. You nod, though the movement is reluctant, and he smiles softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice filled with warmth. The words send a small thrill through you, even as your body continues to throb with unmet need.

The jet gives another lurch, and Oscar shifts, carefully lifting you off his lap and setting you down beside him. The sudden distance between you makes you whimper, but he’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side.

“Just a little longer,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “Then I’ll make sure you get everything you need.”

You nod again, leaning into his warmth as the jet begins its final descent. The anticipation is almost unbearable, the knowledge that relief is so close yet still out of reach making every passing second feel like an eternity.

When the jet finally lands, Oscar is the first to rise, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. Your legs are shaky, and he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as you make your way to the door.

The heat is building, every step sending a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. By the time you reach the door, you’re trembling, your body barely able to contain the need that’s threatening to consume you.

Oscar notices, of course. He’s been watching you closely, his sharp eyes missing nothing. As the door opens and the cool night air rushes in, he pauses, turning to you with a look of concern.

“Are you alright to walk?” He asks, his voice gentle, but there’s an underlying tension there, as if he’s barely holding himself back.

You shake your head, your legs too shaky to trust, the heat making it hard to think straight. “I … I don’t think I can …”

Oscar doesn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, he scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he steps out of the jet. The sudden movement makes you gasp, but you quickly wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carries you down the steps.

The car is waiting at the bottom, the driver standing at attention, but Oscar doesn’t spare him a glance. He moves with purpose, his grip on you secure as he carries you to the car and slides into the backseat with you still in his arms.

Once inside, he positions you so that you’re straddling his lap again, your bodies pressed together. The door closes behind you, and the car starts moving, but all you can focus on is the feel of him beneath you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Oscar … please …” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice filled with desperation.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as he studies you, his expression a mix of concern and desire. “I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know how hard this is for you.”

You whimper, your hips instinctively rocking against his lap in search of relief, but Oscar’s hands grip your waist, stilling your movements.

“But not here,” he repeats, his tone firm despite the longing in his eyes. “I won’t take you for the first time in the back of a car. You deserve better than that.”

His words are both a comfort and a torment. You understand what he’s saying, know that he’s trying to do right by you, but the need inside you is growing stronger with every passing second, making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the burning desire to be claimed.

Oscar’s hand slides up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make it worth the wait,” he promises, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “I’ll make sure you feel every second of it.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you moan softly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as you try to steady your breathing. The heat is almost unbearable now, your body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Oscar’s hands continue to roam, one slipping beneath your dress to caress your thigh, the other trailing up your spine in a soothing gesture. He’s trying to comfort you, to ease your suffering, but it’s a losing battle. The need is too strong, too overwhelming.

“Just hold on a little longer,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re almost there.”

By the time the car pulls up to the sleek, modern apartment building, you’re trembling uncontrollably, your body nearly vibrating with the intensity of the heat that’s been steadily building since you left the jet. Oscar, ever aware of your condition, doesn’t waste a second. He’s out of the car and around to your side before the driver can even think to open the door for you.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he reaches for you, his tone soothing despite the underlying urgency in his movements. His strong arms wrap around you, effortlessly lifting you from the backseat. As he stands, you feel the dampness between your legs spread, leaving a wet spot on his pant leg.

A flicker of something dark and possessive crosses his face as he notices, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he tightens his grip, holding you closer against his chest as if shielding you from the world. His pace quickens as he heads toward the entrance of the building, your soft whimpers filling the space between you.

“Oscar … please …” Your voice is barely more than a breathy moan, the plea escaping before you can stop it. The need inside you is too overwhelming to contain, and you’re desperate for him to finally take you, to claim you as his.

His jaw clenches, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves, but he doesn’t stop. “I know, baby,” he replies, his voice rough with restraint. “Just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. You’re wrapped around him, clutching his shoulders, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you try to suppress the sobs of need that threaten to escape. Oscar’s hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his other arm securing you tightly against him. Every touch is a lifeline, but it’s also torture, reminding you of everything you’re not yet getting.

When the elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, Oscar strides out without hesitation, his eyes fixed on the door to his apartment. You whimper, your hands fisting in his shirt as the desperation in your voice grows. “Oscar … please … I can’t …”

“You can,” he insists, his voice low and commanding as he finally reaches his door. “Just a few more seconds, and then I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

He fumbles with the keys, the tension in his body palpable. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the barely controlled restraint that’s holding him back from giving in to your pleas right there in the hallway. Finally, the door swings open, and he carries you over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him.

He drops the luggage carelessly by the entrance, his focus entirely on you. The moment the door clicks shut, something shifts in him. The restraint he’s been clinging to snaps, and he moves with purpose, his steps quick and sure as he heads straight for the bedroom.

You’re practically panting by the time he sets you down on the edge of the bed, your legs weak and trembling beneath you. Oscar’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire as he looks at you, his gaze intense, predatory.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you? I can smell it on you, how badly you need me.”

You nod frantically, your hands reaching for him, trying to pull him closer. “Please, Oscar … I need you … now …”

He smirks, the sight of your desperation clearly affecting him, but he doesn’t give in right away. Instead, he takes a moment to savor the sight of you, his eyes raking over your trembling form as he steps between your legs.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this,” he promises, his voice a low growl as his hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress up over your hips. “You’re mine now, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

A shudder runs through you at his words, the possessiveness in his tone only fueling the fire inside you. You lean back on your elbows, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you watch him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Oscar, please … I can’t wait any longer …”

His eyes darken further, and he lets out a low, rumbling growl as he finally gives in, his hands moving to strip away the last of your clothing. The cool air hits your heated skin, and you whimper, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

Oscar wastes no time, his hands everywhere at once, touching, caressing, teasing. His mouth follows, lips and tongue tracing a scorching path along your neck, down to your chest, and lower still. Every touch, every kiss, only heightens your arousal, pushing you closer to the edge.

When his hand finally slips between your legs again, you let out a broken moan, your hips lifting off the bed in search of more contact. He chuckles darkly, his fingers parting your folds and slipping inside with ease, the slickness of your arousal making the movement effortless.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with satisfaction. “So ready to be claimed.”

You can only moan in response, your body writhing beneath him as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate, dragging out your pleasure until you’re on the verge of tears.

“Oscar … please … I need you inside me …”

He growls at your plea, his control slipping further as he pulls his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss. But then he’s undressing, and your eyes widen as you watch him, the anticipation building with every second.

When he finally joins you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, you reach for him, your hands shaking with need. He captures your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head as he settles between your legs, his gaze locking with yours.

“This is going to be intense,” he warns, his voice low and rough with desire. “But I need you to trust me, okay?”

You nod frantically, your body aching for him, needing him more than you’ve ever needed anything in your life. “I trust you,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please, Oscar … make me yours …”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a low growl, he positions himself at your entrance, and with one swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure and pain mix together in a heady, intoxicating blend.

Oscar stills for a moment, letting you adjust, his breath coming in harsh pants as he struggles to hold back. His grip on your wrists tightens, his other hand sliding down to grip your hip, holding you in place.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice strained. “Fuck, you feel so good around me …”

You whimper, your body trembling with the effort to hold still, the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled making it hard to think, hard to breathe. But the pain is already fading, quickly replaced by a deep, aching pleasure that leaves you desperate for more.

“Move,” you plead, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, Oscar … I need you to move …”

He lets out a shuddering breath, his control hanging by a thread as he slowly pulls out, only to thrust back in with a force that makes you see stars. The pleasure is immediate, a sharp, intense burst that has you crying out, your body arching into his.

Oscar’s pace is relentless, each thrust deep and powerful, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You’re lost in the sensation, your world narrowed down to the feel of him inside you, the heat of his body against yours, the sound of his growls and your moans filling the room.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive as he pounds into you. “All mine … I’m going to make sure everyone knows it …”

You’re too far gone to respond, your body trembling as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. It’s too much, too intense, and yet you can’t get enough. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

Oscar’s hand moves to your neck, his thumb brushing over your mating gland, and you cry out at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Do it,” you plead, your voice breaking. “Please, Oscar … bite me … claim me …”

He lets out a guttural growl, his control finally snapping as he lowers his head to your neck. His teeth graze over your gland, and you shudder, your body tensing in anticipation.

“Mine,” he snarls, and then he bites down, his teeth sinking into your flesh with a sharp, searing pain that quickly turns into the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt.

The orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. You scream his name, your voice raw and broken as you unravel completely beneath him.

Oscar growls against your neck, his hips slamming into you with a renewed intensity as he rides out your orgasm, his own release following close behind. He thrusts deep inside you, filling you with his seed as he marks you as his, the bond between you solidifying with each pulse of pleasure.

When it’s over, you collapse against the bed, your body trembling with aftershocks, your mind dazed and blissfully blank. Oscar’s breath is hot against your neck, his body still pressing you into the mattress as the intensity of your shared cliDylan begins to ebb. You’re both trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your veins as your minds struggle to grasp what just happened. He’s still buried deep inside you, his knot holding you together, and the thought of being this intimately connected with him sends another shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing over the fresh bite mark he’s left on your mating gland, the sensation making you whimper softly. “You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. “So good for me.”

You’re too spent to respond, your body heavy and exhausted from the intense pleasure he’s wrung out of you. Instead, you nuzzle closer to him, your eyes fluttering shut as the heat in your body temporarily dies down, leaving you in a blissful haze.

Oscar shifts slightly, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you’re lying on his chest, still intimately connected. His hands stroke soothingly down your back, and you let out a contented sigh, feeling safe and secure in his arms.

“You should get some sleep while you can,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble beneath you. “There’s going to be another wave soon, and you’ll need your strength.”

You know he’s right, but the thought of sleeping while you’re still so tightly bound to him feels almost impossible. You’re too aware of his presence, of the way his knot is still lodged deep inside you, of the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear. But exhaustion is quickly catching up with you, and before long, your eyes are drifting shut, your body relaxing fully against his.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, your voice drowsy as sleep begins to pull you under.

“Always,” he replies, his voice filled with a quiet promise.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the gentle press of his lips against your temple, the warmth of his body surrounding you, and the comfort of knowing that, for the first time in your life, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

When you wake, the room is dark, and the only sound is the steady rise and fall of Oscar’s breathing. Your body is warm and heavy, still draped over his chest, still connected to him in the most intimate way. But as your mind begins to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep, you become acutely aware of the insistent throbbing between your legs, the undeniable need that’s starting to build once again.

You shift slightly, your movement eliciting a low groan from Oscar as the motion tugs at his knot, still firmly in place inside you. The sensation sends a wave of heat through you, and you let out a soft whine, your body instinctively pressing closer to him.

Oscar stirs beneath you, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mmhmm,” you reply, your voice breathy as you nuzzle into his chest. “I need you …”

He lets out a low chuckle, his hands beginning to trace soothing patterns on your skin. “You’ve got me, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

But it’s not enough. The need inside you is growing stronger, more insistent, and you can feel the heat beginning to rise again, demanding more. “I need more than that,” you whisper, your voice laced with desperation. “Please, Oscar …”

His hands still on your hips, his body tensing beneath you. “It’s too soon,” he says, his voice rough with restraint. “This is only your first heat with me. We have time, plenty of time for that later.”

You shake your head, a whimper escaping your lips as you press closer, your body aching with need. “No, I need it now. I need you to knot me again … I need you to give me pups …”

Oscar’s breath catches in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he tries to maintain control. “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he begins, his voice strained. “I want that too, but this is your first time going through heat with me. We should wait-”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the desperation lacing it. “I can’t wait. I need you now, Oscar. Please … I need to feel you knot me again, to know that I’m yours completely …”

He lets out a low growl, his control slipping further as your words push him closer to the edge. “You are mine,” he snarls, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. “You’re already mine. I’ve marked you, claimed you-”

“Then show me,” you plead, your voice breaking as you grind down against him, desperate for the friction. “Show me that I’m yours … knot me and fill me, Oscar. Give me pups …”

His restraint snaps completely at your words, and with a feral growl, he flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him as he pulls out of you, only to thrust back in with a force that leaves you breathless. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure as his knot stretches you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You want my knot?” He growls, his voice rough and possessive as he pounds into you with an intensity that has you seeing stars. “You want me to fill you with my pups?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed as you cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, please, Oscar … I need it …”

He’s relentless, his thrusts deep and powerful as he chases his own release, the sound of your cries and pleas only spurring him on. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as his knot swells inside you, locking you together once again.

“I’m going to give you everything,” he growls, his voice low and rough as he drives into you with a single-minded focus. “You’re going to take all of me, every last drop …”

You can’t form coherent words anymore, your mind too lost in the overwhelming pleasure, but you manage a breathless moan, the sound desperate and needy as you beg him for more.

Oscar doesn’t disappoint. With a final, powerful thrust, he knots you, his body going rigid as he spills inside you, filling you with his seed. The sensation is enough to send you over the edge, and you scream his name as you’re thrown into another intense orgasm, your body shaking and trembling beneath him.

He rides out your release, his movements slow and deliberate as he pushes you through the waves of pleasure, his knot pulsing inside you with every throb of his cock. You’re barely aware of anything else, your mind completely consumed by the sensation of being filled so completely, so perfectly by him.

When it’s over, you collapse against the bed, your body trembling with aftershocks, your mind dazed and blissfully blank. Oscar’s weight presses down on you, his breath hot against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin, his knot still lodged firmly inside you.

“Mine,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he kisses your neck, the possessiveness in his tone clear. “You’re mine, and now everyone will know it …”

You let out a soft, contented sigh, the sound barely more than a whisper as you relax completely in his arms. “Always,” you reply, your voice drowsy as sleep begins to pull you under once again.

Oscar hums in response, his hands stroking soothingly down your back as he holds you close. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice soft and tender. “I’ve got you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The exhaustion from the intensity of your heat is catching up with you, and your eyes are already drifting shut, your body relaxing completely against his.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the gentle press of his lips against your temple, the warmth of his body surrounding you, and the comfort of knowing that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be — safe, loved, and claimed by the alpha who now holds your heart in his hands.

***

The days blend together in a rhythm that becomes both comforting and suffocating. You wake up alone in the large bed, the sheets still warm from where Oscar had been lying beside you, his scent lingering in the air. The apartment is quiet, too quiet, with only the distant hum of the city outside to keep you company. The space around you is luxurious and expansive, but it feels empty without him.

Oscar has people for everything — cooking, cleaning, managing his life outside the realm of racing. You’d been trained to handle those tasks, taught to be the perfect omega who could anticipate and fulfill every need an alpha might have. But here, in Oscar’s world, those skills are unnecessary. The staff handles the meals, tidying up, and even the minutiae of his schedule. It leaves you with little to do, your days stretching out in a seemingly endless wait for him to return from training, meetings, or other obligations.

It’s the nights you live for, the moments when he finally comes home and the two of you can lose yourselves in each other. The way he takes you, the way he makes you feel, it’s overwhelming, all-consuming. In those moments, nothing else matters. The world narrows down to just the two of you, your bodies moving together in perfect synchrony, your cries of pleasure mingling with his growls of satisfaction. You crave those nights, where the boundaries between you blur, and all you can feel is the heat and the raw, primal connection that bonds you together.

But when the night ends, and the morning comes, the cycle starts again. He kisses you softly before slipping out of bed, leaving you to wake alone, his absence a gaping void that you can’t quite fill. You’ve tried to distract yourself, tried to find ways to pass the time, but nothing seems to help. You miss him when he’s gone, the ache of longing settling deep in your chest, gnawing at you throughout the day.

You spend your days wandering through the apartment, aimless and restless, your mind filled with thoughts of Oscar. Sometimes you’ll curl up on the couch, pulling one of his shirts over your knees just to feel closer to him. Other times, you’ll find yourself standing at the window, staring out at the city below, wondering where he is, what he’s doing, and when he’ll come back to you.

The staff is polite and attentive, but they’re not him. They’re not the warm, reassuring presence that you crave, the one who makes you feel safe and wanted. They do their jobs efficiently, always a step ahead, always ensuring that everything is perfect for when Oscar returns. But their presence only serves to remind you of the emptiness that fills your days.

When Oscar finally comes home, it’s like a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the stifling monotony that your days have become. You run to him, your body instinctively seeking out his warmth, his touch. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his scent filling your senses and grounding you in a way nothing else can.

“Missed you,” you murmur against his chest, your voice soft and full of longing.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice a low rumble as he kisses the top of your head. “But I’m here now.”

The nights are everything you could ever want, a heady mix of pleasure and passion that leaves you breathless and sated. Oscar knows exactly how to touch you, how to draw out every moan and whimper, how to make you forget everything except the way he feels inside you. It’s a relief to lose yourself in him, to drown in the intensity of your connection, to feel completely and utterly his.

It’s after one such night that you find yourself lying in his arms, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city outside the window. Oscar’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath your cheek, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your back as he holds you close.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, his voice soft and full of concern.

You nod, but the words you’ve been holding back for days now bubble to the surface. “I … I miss you when you’re away.”

There’s a pause, and you feel Oscar’s body tense slightly beneath you. He shifts, moving so that he can look down at you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed by your admission. “It’s just … when you’re gone, I don’t know what to do with myself. The days are so long, and I feel so … lost without you.”

Oscar sighs, his hand cupping your cheek as he strokes his thumb over your skin. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to feel like that. I thought you might need some time to adjust, to get used to this new life. But if it’s too much, I’ll figure something out. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“It’s not that I’m unhappy,” you say quickly, not wanting him to think you’re ungrateful. “I just miss you. I miss having you close, knowing you’re here with me. It’s hard when you’re gone, and I’m just … waiting.”

Oscar’s expression softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t realize how much you were struggling. I’ve been trying to give you space, but if it’s making you feel like this, then it’s not working.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his. “I don’t need space, Oscar. I need you. I want to be with you, wherever that is. I don’t care if it’s at home or at a race or anywhere else. I just want to be by your side.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he considers your words. Then, he nods, as if coming to a decision. “Alright, then. If that’s what you want, I won’t leave you behind anymore.”

You blink up at him, surprised by how easily he agrees. “You mean it?”

“I do,” he says, his voice firm. “I’ve been waiting for you to settle in, to see if you’d be comfortable here on your own. But I can see now that this isn’t working. I don’t want you to feel lonely, and I don’t want to be away from you either.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and you lean up to kiss him, pouring all of your gratitude and love into the gesture. “Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

Oscar kisses you back, his hands threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing yours in a way that has your toes curling. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“From now on, you’ll come with me,” he says, his voice full of promise. “Wherever I go, you’ll be there too. I won’t leave you behind again.”

The relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you can’t help but smile up at him, feeling lighter than you have in days. The thought of traveling with him, of being by his side no matter where he goes, fills you with a sense of purpose and belonging that you’ve been craving.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice filled with gratitude. “I can’t wait to be with you, wherever that is.”

Oscar smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you. “Neither can I, sweetheart. Neither can I.”

As you settle back into his arms, your heart feels full, the ache of loneliness that has plagued you for so long finally beginning to fade. You know that being with Oscar, traveling by his side, won’t always be easy. There will be challenges, new environments to adapt to, and the pressures of his career. But none of that matters as long as you’re together.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, letting your eyes drift shut as you snuggle closer to him. The future feels bright, full of possibilities that you hadn’t dared to hope for. And most importantly, it’s a future where you won’t have to be apart from the one person who means everything to you.

Oscar’s hand continues to stroke your back in soothing circles, his warmth and scent surrounding you, grounding you in the here and now. “Get some sleep, love,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble. “We’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

You smile against his skin, feeling completely at peace for the first time in days. “Goodnight, Oscar,” you whisper, your voice filled with contentment.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies, his lips brushing over your temple as he holds you close.

As you drift off to sleep, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together, side by side. And that’s all you could ever want.

***

The roar of engines is deafening, the air thick with the scent of burning rubber and fuel as you stand on the sidelines, watching the blur of cars as they speed around the track. This is your first time at a race, the sheer energy and intensity of the event almost overwhelming. The crowd is a sea of color, cheering and waving flags, the excitement palpable in the air. You feel a thrill of anticipation as you watch Oscar’s car navigate the circuit with practiced ease, your heart swelling with pride.

It’s surreal being here, surrounded by so many people, so much noise, so much movement. You’ve heard stories about the races from Oscar, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The speed, the adrenaline, the stakes — it’s all so much more than you’d imagined. You can barely keep your eyes off the screen that tracks the positions, each lap feeling like a small victory as Oscar maintains his place near the front.

But then, something shifts.

A sudden hush falls over the crowd, a sharp intake of breath as something unexpected happens on the track. You watch in horror as Oscar’s car and Lando’s car make contact, the two vehicles colliding with a screech of metal and rubber. The impact sends Oscar’s car spinning off the track, his position slipping away in an instant.

Your heart drops into your stomach, panic rising as you watch the car come to a stop, half-buried in gravel. For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the blood rushing in your ears. Then, as if in slow motion, you see Oscar emerge from the car, the safety personnel rushing to his side. Relief floods through you, but it’s short-lived as you see the way he carries himself, the tension in his shoulders, the dark look in his eyes.

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it, a shift in the air, a dark, possessive energy radiating from him even from this distance. The cameras zoom in on his face, and you see it — the barely restrained fury, the cold, calculating look that makes your blood run cold. Oscar is not just angry; he’s on the verge of something far more primal, far more dangerous.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until you find yourself near the garage, your feet carrying you closer to where you know he’ll be headed. The tension in the pit is palpable, everyone on edge as they wait for Oscar to arrive. You can see the way the crew exchanges nervous glances, whispering among themselves, unsure of how to handle the situation.

And then he appears.

Oscar storms into the garage, his presence like a thunderstorm rolling in, dark and ominous. The crew parts for him without a word, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and respect. He doesn’t even acknowledge them, his gaze focused solely on you, as if nothing else exists in the world. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a raw, feral need that takes your breath away.

Before you can say anything, before you can even think, Oscar is in front of you, his hands gripping your arms as he pulls you close. The scent of him is overwhelming, a heady mix of sweat, adrenaline, and something darker, something possessive. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

“Oscar,” you breathe, trying to calm him, but your voice is lost in the chaos around you.

He doesn’t say a word, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. There’s something primal in his gaze, something that tells you he’s on the edge, barely holding on to control. Without warning, he dips his head, his nose brushing against your neck as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent as if it’s the only thing grounding him.

You shiver, your body responding instinctively to his touch, to the dominance that radiates from him in waves. He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you, sending a thrill of both fear and excitement down your spine. It’s a warning, a claim, and you know without a doubt that everyone around you understands what it means.

He’s staking his claim on you, right here in front of everyone.

Oscar’s hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he nuzzles your neck, his breath hot against your skin. The world around you fades, the only thing you can focus on is him, the way his body presses against yours, the way his lips brush over your mating gland, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

And then, he bites.

It’s not a gentle bite, not like the ones he’s given you in bed. This is possessive, demanding, a show of dominance that leaves no room for doubt. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body goes limp in his arms, overwhelmed by the surge of pleasure and pain that courses through you. He growls again, his teeth sinking deeper into your skin as he marks you, his claim on you undeniable.

You can feel the eyes of everyone in the garage on you, can hear the whispers, the shocked gasps, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except for the way Oscar is holding you, the way he’s making sure everyone knows you belong to him and him alone.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are wild, his breathing ragged. There’s a dark, possessive satisfaction in his gaze as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing over the fresh bite mark with a kind of reverence. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to — his actions speak louder than words ever could.

You’re his, and he’s not about to let anyone forget it.

The crew doesn’t dare to interfere, their eyes averted as Oscar pulls you even closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as if to shield you from the world. He’s not done yet, not by a long shot, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained urge to take you right here, right now.

But somehow, he manages to hold back, his grip on control tenuous at best. He growls again, a low, dangerous sound that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. Without a word, he starts moving, dragging you along with him as he heads towards his driver’s room, his steps quick and determined.

You can barely keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as he pulls you through the garage, his focus entirely on getting you alone. The door to his driver’s room slams shut behind you, and the moment you’re alone, the last shred of Oscar’s control snaps.

He’s on you in an instant, his mouth crashing down on yours in a bruising, possessive kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, pulling you closer, his need for you palpable in every touch, every kiss, every growl that rumbles in his chest.

“Oscar,” you gasp when he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. “Please …”

“I can’t … I need …” His voice is rough, desperate, his hands trembling as he rips your shirt open, the buttons flying in every direction.

You barely have time to react before his mouth is on your neck, kissing, licking, biting, his hands sliding down to your waist to tug at the waistband of your pants. There’s a wildness to him, a desperation that you’ve never seen before, and it sends a thrill of both excitement and fear through you.

His rut is taking over, his need to claim you, to possess you, overriding everything else. You’re helpless against the onslaught of sensation, your body responding to him instinctively, your mind hazy with desire.

“Oscar,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he pulls your pants down, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you up, pressing you against the wall.

“Mine,” he growls, his eyes dark with need as he looks down at you, his hands spreading your legs as he presses his hips against yours.

You can feel him, hard and ready, the evidence of his need pressing against your core, and it drives you wild with desire. Your hands fumble with his belt, your fingers trembling as you try to unbuckle it, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Oscar, please,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper as you look up at him, your eyes wide with need.

His control is slipping, his eyes darkening as he watches you struggle to free him from his pants. With a growl, he grabs your hands, pinning them above your head as he uses his other hand to tear his zipper down, his race suit sliding down to his hips.

He’s rough, desperate, his hands gripping your thighs as he lines himself up, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. There’s no more time for words, no more time for hesitation. He’s too far gone, too deep into his rut to hold back any longer.

With a single, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and the world explodes into a whirlwind of sensation. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body arching against his as he moves, each thrust harder, faster, more desperate than the last.

You can barely think, barely breathe, your mind consumed by the raw, primal need that courses through you. All you can do is hold on, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he takes you, his possessiveness, his dominance, his need to claim you driving him to the edge.

“Oscar … I can’t …” You try to form a coherent thought, but it’s impossible, the pleasure too much, too intense, too all-consuming.

“Mine,” he growls again, his teeth grazing your mating gland, the sharp points teasing at the skin, sending shivers down your spine. He’s buried deep inside you, his pace unrelenting, driving into you with a force that has you gasping, your body pinned between him and the wall. The world outside is nothing more than a distant memory now, lost to the haze of heat and need that pulses between you.

He’s so deep in his rut that he can barely speak, his words slurring together as his instincts take over. “Good omega … my perfect omega …” he mutters, his voice rough and hoarse, every syllable dripping with raw, animalistic possession. “You’ll be … you’ll be the perfect mother … for our pups.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, the thought of bearing his pups, of being filled by him in every possible way, setting your nerves on fire. He can feel it too, the way your body responds to his words, the way you tighten around him, and it only spurs him on. His hand moves from your waist, sliding down to press against your lower abdomen, right where his knot is beginning to swell, becoming visible through the skin.

“You feel that?” Oscar growls, his hand pressing down on the slight bulge, making you cry out, your body arching against him. “That’s my knot … locking you in place … filling you with my seed … making you mine in every way …”

You can only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form any coherent words. His hand stays on your stomach, pressing down just enough to intensify the sensation, to make you acutely aware of how deep he is inside you, how thoroughly he’s claimed you. The pressure is almost too much, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that has you trembling in his arms, your legs barely able to support you.

“You’re so perfect … so good for me …” Oscar continues, his voice rough with need. His thrusts slow, becoming more deliberate, more focused as his knot swells, locking him inside you. The pressure builds, the sensation of being so completely filled by him overwhelming every other thought, every other feeling.

His hand on your stomach presses down harder, as if he’s trying to push his knot even deeper, and the sensation is almost too much to bear. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every pulse, and it’s driving you to the brink of madness. “Gonna give you everything,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl. “Everything you need … everything I have …”

You whimper, the sound muffled by the intensity of the moment, your body shuddering against him as he continues to speak, his voice a rough, desperate whisper in your ear. “You’ll be such a good mother … carrying our pups … taking care of them … just like you take care of me …”

He’s rambling now, his words tumbling out in a rush, driven by the primal need to claim you, to mark you as his in every possible way. His hand on your stomach moves, sliding down to press against your clit, his fingers rubbing in tight, controlled circles that have you crying out, your body tightening around him in response.

“You’re so beautiful like this …” he groans, his hips grinding against you as he pushes deeper, his knot swelling even more, locking him in place. “So perfect … so ready for me … ready to take everything I give you …”

His words are a mix of praise and possession, each one sending a new wave of heat through your body, making you shudder in his arms. He’s relentless, his thrusts slower but no less intense, each one driving his knot deeper, making you feel every inch of him, every pulse of his cock inside you.

“You belong to me,” Oscar growls, his voice low and rough, his teeth grazing your skin again, this time biting down just enough to leave a mark, a fresh claim on top of the one he’s already made. “Only me … forever …”

The possessiveness in his voice is overwhelming, the need in him so raw, so powerful that it feels like it’s consuming you, pulling you under. You can feel his knot pressing against your walls, the sensation so intense that it’s almost painful, but in the best possible way. Your body is trembling, on the edge of something that feels like it might break you, and Oscar is right there with you, pushing you closer and closer to that precipice.

He shifts his weight, pressing down on your stomach again, making you cry out as the pressure on his knot intensifies. “Gonna fill you up … make sure everyone knows you’re mine …” he murmurs, his voice a rough, possessive growl. “No one else … only me …”

His fingers on your clit work faster, harder, driving you towards the edge, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips, the sound muffled by the way you’re biting your lower lip, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. But it’s slipping away, fast, and you can feel yourself spiraling, your body tightening around him, your muscles tensing as you approach the brink.

“Oscar … please …” you manage to gasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, but he hears you, and it only spurs him on.

“That’s it … let go for me …” he growls, his voice rough with need. “Be a good omega … let me take care of you …”

The words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm tears through you, waves of pleasure crashing over you in a relentless tide. You can feel the way your walls clamp down on his knot, the pressure driving you higher, making you cry out his name again and again.

Oscar isn’t far behind you, his body tensing as he feels you fall apart around him. His hips jerk, his knot swelling to its full size as he buries himself as deep as possible, his cock pulsing as he comes, his seed filling you in thick, hot waves. He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he grinds against you, his hands gripping your waist so tightly that it’s almost painful, but you don’t care. The sensation of being filled by him, claimed by him, is too much, too overwhelming, and it sends you spiraling again, your body shaking with the aftershocks.

Oscar’s breathing is ragged, his body trembling as he holds you close, his knot keeping him locked inside you, making sure you take every last drop of his seed. He’s still murmuring in your ear, his voice soft and rough, a mix of praise and possessiveness that makes your heart race.

“You’re mine … my perfect omega …” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, kissing the fresh mark he’s left there. “No one else … no one else will ever have you …”

You shiver, your body still trembling with the aftereffects of the orgasm, and you can only nod, your voice lost to the haze of pleasure that still lingers in the air. Oscar’s hands move to your hips, pulling you closer, holding you tight as he rides out the last waves of his release, his body tense and trembling.

It takes a long time for the intensity to fade, for the world to slowly come back into focus. Oscar’s breathing eventually evens out, his hold on you loosening slightly as the last vestiges of his rut start to dissipate. He’s still inside you, his knot keeping him locked in place, but the urgency, the desperation, has faded, replaced by a quiet, almost tender possessiveness.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a long moment, his voice soft, a little hesitant, as if he’s worried that he might have been too rough, too possessive.

You nod, your head resting against his shoulder as you try to catch your breath, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice a little hoarse from all the crying out you’ve done.

Oscar’s hand moves to your hair, stroking it gently, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions. “You were perfect,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet, reverent awe. “So perfect for me.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch, the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, lulling you into a state of contentment. There’s something about being in his arms, being claimed by him so completely, that makes you feel safe, loved, cherished.

After a few more minutes, Oscar shifts slightly, testing the tightness of his knot, but it’s still too swollen to pull out, so he just holds you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “We’ll stay like this for a while,” he says softly, his voice warm and comforting. “I don’t want to hurt you by pulling out too soon.”

You hum in agreement, your body relaxing against him as you let the warmth and security of his embrace wash over you. There’s no rush, no need to move or do anything but bask in the afterglow, in the warmth of each other’s presence.

As the minutes tick by, Oscar continues to murmur soft words of praise and love, his hands gentle as they caress your back, your hair, your skin. “You’re going to be the best mother,” he whispers, his voice filled with a quiet certainty that makes your heart swell. “Our pups are going to be so lucky to have you.”

***

It’s a quiet morning, the sun just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. You’re curled up in Oscar’s arms, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his scent surrounding you like a protective blanket. His breath is slow and steady against your skin, his nose pressed against the sensitive spot on your neck where his mating mark sits, a constant reminder of his claim on you. The world outside doesn’t matter here, in this little bubble of comfort and safety you’ve created together.

Oscar shifts slightly, his hand running up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes. You feel his lips brush against your skin, soft and lingering, before he presses his nose more firmly against your mating gland, inhaling deeply. He’s been doing that a lot lately, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent like it’s the most precious thing in the world. There’s something almost reverent about the way he does it, like he’s trying to memorize every single part of you.

“Your scent’s different,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his voice a low, sleepy rumble that vibrates through you. He nuzzles closer, his nose brushing along the line of your neck, taking another deep inhale. “It’s sweeter … richer.”

You blink, the words slow to sink in through the haze of sleep still clouding your mind. “Different?” You ask softly, your voice still thick with sleep.

Oscar nods, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile against your skin. “Yeah … different,” he repeats, his hand moving to rest on your stomach, his fingers splayed out across your skin. “I think … I think you’re pregnant.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and it takes a moment for them to fully register. Pregnant. The thought sends a warm flush through your body, your heart skipping a beat. You shift slightly in his arms, turning to look at him, your eyes wide and searching.

“Pregnant?” You echo, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud might break the spell.

Oscar’s smile widens, and he nods again, his hand on your stomach pressing down gently, almost possessively. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice filled with awe and a deep, overwhelming joy. “You’re carrying our pup.”

The reality of it hits you all at once, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions — happiness, love, a touch of fear, but most of all, an overwhelming sense of rightness. This is what you’ve always wanted, what you’ve dreamed of since the moment Oscar first claimed you, and now it’s real. You’re going to be a mother. You’re going to have a family with him.

Oscar’s hand moves from your stomach to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that slips free. “Hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of warmth and tenderness. “Why are you crying, love?”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you lean into his touch. “I’m just … so happy,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“It’s real,” Oscar assures you, his thumb continuing to stroke your cheek, his eyes filled with a deep, unwavering love. “You’re going to be the most amazing mother, I know it.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the warmth of his touch grounding you, anchoring you to this moment. When you open them again, Oscar is still watching you, his gaze intense, filled with a possessive pride that makes your heart race.

His hand slides back down to your stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin, and you can see the way his pupils dilate, his breathing growing a little heavier. “You’re carrying our pup,” he says again, his voice rougher now, laced with an edge of desire. “My pup.”

The way he says it, the raw possessiveness in his voice, sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the heat building between you again, the need that’s never far from the surface when you’re with him. Oscar’s hand moves lower, his fingers slipping between your legs, and you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him.

“Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need.

He doesn’t answer with words, instead, his lips capture yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his hand moving to position you just right, and then he’s slipping inside you, the sensation of him filling you again like coming home. You moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping his shoulders as he moves slowly, deliberately, savoring every moment, every sensation.

Oscar pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze burning with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his hands moving to hold your hips, guiding you as he moves. “So proud … and so lucky.”

You can’t find the words to respond, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, the way he’s filling you so completely, so perfectly. He moves with a slow, steady rhythm, his hands holding you close, keeping you grounded in this moment, in the connection between you. Every thrust, every movement is filled with a deep, reverent love, a celebration of the life you’re creating together.

“You’re going to be such a good mother,” Oscar whispers, his voice a low growl in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re perfect … so perfect for me … for our pup.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, your muscles tightening around him, drawing him deeper. Oscar groans, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace quickening just slightly, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate as the need to claim you again, to mark you as his, takes over.

“Mine,” he growls, his voice rough with possessiveness, his lips brushing against your neck, right over your mating mark. “All mine.”

You can only moan in response, your body moving in sync with his, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, building towards something that feels like it might consume you whole. Oscar’s hands move to your stomach again, pressing down gently, reminding you of the life growing inside you, and the sensation is enough to push you over the edge.

With a cry, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with the force of the orgasm, your muscles tightening around him, pulling him deeper. Oscar follows moments later, his body tensing as he comes inside you, filling you with his seed, his hands holding you close, keeping you grounded as you both ride out the waves of pleasure together.

The world slowly comes back into focus, the intensity of the moment fading into a warm, comforting afterglow. Oscar’s breathing is heavy, his arms wrapped around you as he holds you close, his body still pressed against yours. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear, the warmth of his skin against yours, and it’s enough to make you feel safe, loved, cherished.

After a long moment, Oscar shifts slightly, his arms tightening around you as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice still a little shaky from the intensity of it all.

Oscar’s hand moves to rest on your stomach again, his fingers tracing gentle circles over the skin. “Our pup is going to be so lucky,” he says softly, his voice filled with a quiet awe. “They’re going to have the best mother.”

You smile at that, a soft, contented smile as you snuggle closer to him, letting the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing, lull you into a state of peace. For a while, you just lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten in the warmth and safety of this moment.

But as the minutes tick by, a thought begins to creep into your mind, a worry that you can’t quite shake. The thought of bringing a child into the world, of raising them, brings with it a flood of emotions — joy, excitement, but also fear. And there’s one fear that lingers more than any other, one that you can’t push aside.

After a long moment, you finally find the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “Oscar …”

He hums in response, his hand still resting on your stomach, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over your skin.

“If we have an omega pup …” you start, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of the words. “Promise me … promise me they’ll never be taken away to an omega training school. Not like I was.”

Oscar’s hand stills on your stomach, his body tensing slightly beneath you. There’s a long pause, and you can feel his heart start to race beneath your ear, his breath catching in his throat. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough with emotion. “I promise,” he says, his voice filled with a quiet, fierce determination. “I’ll never let that happen. I would die before I let anyone take our pup away from us.”

You close your eyes, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude and love.

Oscar’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. “I’m thankful that the school meant I could find you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I’d die before letting any of our pups go through what you did. They’ll never know that kind of life. They’ll have us — always.”

The words settle deep in your chest, soothing an ache you hadn’t even realized was still there. The fear that had been gnawing at you dissipates in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by the quiet certainty that Oscar means every word. He would fight for you, for your future, for your family. He already has.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity of the love you see there steals your breath away. He’s watching you with an unwavering focus, his eyes soft but determined, like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. And you are.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, a silent thank you for the promise he’s just made, for the future you know you’ll build together. Oscar responds with a hum of contentment, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispers, and it’s not just a promise — it’s a vow. “You, me, and our pup. We’re going to be more than okay. We’re going to be happy.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you let the last of your worries melt away, replaced by the overwhelming sense of rightness that comes with being here, in this moment, with him. You believe him. You believe in the life you’re building together, in the love that will carry you through whatever comes next.

As you settle back down against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness, you feel more content than you’ve ever felt in your life. Oscar’s hand continues its gentle caress over your stomach, his touch soothing and protective, and you know without a doubt that he will always be there for you, for your family.

***

10 Years Later

The sun is shining brightly as you walk hand-in-hand with Oscar, your large family trailing behind you like a small parade. The paddock is bustling with activity, but the familiar sights and sounds of race day are a comforting background as you make your way through the crowd. Your hand rests on your rounded belly, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside you. The warmth of Oscar’s grip on your other hand grounds you, a constant source of strength and love.

Your eldest, an alpha, walks beside you, his protective nature evident in the way he keeps an eye on his younger siblings. The twins, an omega boy and girl, chatter excitedly as they try to keep up with their older brother, their energy infectious. The rest of your pups, a mix of alphas, betas, and omegas, follow close behind, their laughter and playful teasing filling the air.

As you near the entrance to the paddock, a reporter spots Oscar and approaches with a microphone, a camera crew in tow. The reporter’s eyes widen slightly as they take in the sight of your large family, but they quickly compose themselves, flashing a polite smile.

“Oscar, a quick word before you head inside?” The reporter asks, holding out the microphone.

Oscar glances at you, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips, before nodding to the reporter. “Sure, why not?”

The reporter’s gaze shifts between you, Oscar, and your brood of children, clearly trying to figure out how to phrase their question delicately. “It’s not every day we see a Formula 1 driver with such a large family,” they begin, their tone carefully neutral. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to have so many pups?”

Oscar’s smirk deepens, and he pulls you closer to his side, his arm sliding around your waist possessively. The gesture is as much for your comfort as it is a display of his pride in you and your family. He takes a moment, clearly enjoying the reporter’s slight discomfort, before he leans in just a little, his voice low and confident.

“Well,” Oscar starts, his eyes flicking down to you with a look that’s nothing short of adoring. “If you had a perfect omega like mine, you wouldn’t be able to resist either.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them — his voice dripping with pride, love, and just a hint of that possessive edge — makes the reporter blink, momentarily taken aback. The camera catches the way Oscar’s hand rests protectively on your stomach, the way he holds you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s clear to everyone watching that Oscar means every word.

You can’t help but smile at his response, a warmth spreading through your chest at the unabashed way he shows his love for you and your family. The reporter regains their composure quickly, nodding with a polite smile, though there’s a hint of envy in their eyes.

“That’s certainly a lovely sentiment,” the reporter says, recovering quickly. “It’s wonderful to see a family so full of love and happiness.”

Oscar’s smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he nods. “We’re very lucky,” he agrees, his voice full of affection. “Family is everything to us.”

The reporter glances back at your children, who are now gathered around, their attention divided between the camera and each other. The twins are whispering excitedly to one another, their matching wide eyes reflecting the curiosity only children can have. One of the younger alphas is tugging on the sleeve of your oldest, asking if they can watch the race from the best spot on the pit wall.

“How do you manage with so many little ones, especially with such a demanding career?” The reporter asks, genuinely curious now.

Oscar chuckles softly, glancing at you with a knowing smile. “It’s not always easy, but we make it work. We’ve got a good system in place, and it helps that they love being around the track as much as I do. They’ve grown up with it, so it’s like a second home to them.”

You nod in agreement, your free hand absently rubbing your belly as you listen. “And they look out for each other,” you add, smiling at your children. “The older ones help with the younger ones, and we make sure to spend as much time together as we can. It’s a team effort.”

The reporter smiles, clearly charmed by the image of your close-knit family. “It sounds like a wonderful way to raise a family,” they say. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”

Oscar gives a polite nod, then glances down at you, his eyes softening. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, his tone indicating that the interview is over.

You nod, and together, you turn to lead your family toward the entrance to the paddock. The reporter calls out a final thank you as the camera crew packs up, but you’re already focused on the day ahead, your mind shifting to the race and the time you’ll spend together as a family.

As you walk through the paddock, you can feel the curious glances of team members and other drivers as they take in the sight of your large family. But you’re used to it by now — the whispers, the stares. It doesn’t bother you. If anything, it only strengthens your resolve to live your life on your own terms, to build the family you’ve always dreamed of.

Your children, oblivious to the attention, continue their playful banter, their excitement for the race palpable. They’ve grown up in this world, surrounded by the roar of engines and the thrill of competition, and it’s as much a part of them as it is of Oscar. They’ve inherited his passion for racing, but they’ve also inherited something far more important — his love, his strength, and his tireless devotion to family.

As you approach the McLaren garage, you catch sight of Lando, who’s already suited up and chatting with a few engineers. He looks up and grins when he sees your family, waving you over.

“Hey, Piastri clan!” Lando calls out, a playful twinkle in his eye. “You lot taking over the paddock today?”

The kids immediately perk up at the sight of their favorite “Uncle Lando,” and before you know it, they’re rushing over to him, peppering him with questions about the race and begging for stories about his latest adventures on the track.

Oscar chuckles, giving Lando a mock glare. “Don’t spoil them too much. I still need them to behave for the race.”

Lando laughs, ruffling the hair of one of the younger alphas. “No promises, mate. You know I can’t resist these little troublemakers.”

You smile at the easy camaraderie between the two drivers, a bond that’s only grown stronger over the years. It’s clear that Lando cares deeply for your family, and you’re grateful for the role he plays in your children’s lives.

As the kids gather around Lando, hanging on his every word, Oscar pulls you aside, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you to a quieter corner of the garage. Once you’re out of earshot, he turns to you, his eyes searching your face with a tenderness that never fails to make your heart skip a beat.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

You nod, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “Just … taking it all in.”

Oscar smiles, his gaze drifting down to your belly before meeting your eyes again. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” He murmurs. “All of this — our family, the race, everything.”

“It is,” you agree, your voice soft. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

***

The penthouse suite is filled with the familiar sounds of a family settling in for the evening — a mix of laughter, playful bickering, and the rustle of blankets being shared and tugged over laps. It’s movie night, a ritual that’s become sacred in your household, especially after a long weekend at the track. The air is thick with the scent of popcorn, and the oversized sofa is crowded with a tangle of limbs, all jockeying for the best spot to cuddle up for the night.

You’re nestled comfortably against Oscar’s side, his arm draped around your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. Your oldest, Liam, an alpha who has inherited Oscar’s fierce determination, is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring intently at the screen, trying to get the movie started. His younger brother, Dylan, a beta, leans over his shoulder, offering unasked-for advice.

“Just press play already,” Adeline, one of the omega twins, groans dramatically from her spot on the couch, her head pillowed on her twin brother Theo’s lap. “We’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“It’s not that easy,” Liam mutters, his brow furrowing in concentration as he navigates through the menus. “These remotes are weird.”

“They’re exactly the same as the ones at home,” Oscar says with a chuckle, but there’s no judgment in his tone, just the easy patience that comes from a decade of fatherhood.

Across the room, Zara and Oliver, another alpha-beta pair, are busy constructing a fortress of pillows and blankets at the end of the sofa, clearly uninterested in the movie and more focused on their own game. They’re whispering conspiratorially, planning some elaborate attack on their siblings that will no doubt result in a mock battle before bedtime.

You smile at the sight of them all — your eight pups, each so different and yet so bonded by the shared experiences of growing up in the whirlwind that is life with an F1 driver and his omega. The love you see in their eyes, the easy way they interact with each other, it’s everything you ever wanted, everything you never dared to dream about when you were younger.

Oscar’s hand slides up to your neck, his thumb brushing over your mating mark. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively lean into his touch. He chuckles softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to the spot, his lips lingering as if savoring the taste of your skin.

“Dad,” Theo groans, lifting his head to glare at Oscar. “Do you have to do that right now?”

“What?” Oscar lifts his head just enough to give Theo an innocent look, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. “I’m just reminding your mother how much I love her.”

“Gross,” Adeline mutters, her nose wrinkling in exaggerated disgust. “Can’t you wait until after the movie?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Zara pipes up from the fort, peeking out from behind a wall of pillows. “No one wants to see that.”

Oscar just laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that you can feel vibrating through your whole body. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” You whisper back, though you already know the answer.

“That I have the most perfect omega in the world,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “And I’m not afraid to show it.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, the warmth that blooms in your chest at his words. Even after all these years, after all the changes and challenges, the love between you hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s grown stronger, more resilient, like a fire that refuses to go out no matter how hard the winds of life try to snuff it out.

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” Liam says, finally getting the movie to start. “Can we just watch this before bedtime?”

Oscar pulls back, giving the kids a mock-salute. “As you wish.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the opening credits roll, and you settle back into Oscar’s embrace, your head resting on his chest. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, and you squeeze gently, letting him know without words how much you appreciate him — how much you love him.

As the movie plays, the pups gradually grow quieter, their energy from the day’s excitement starting to ebb away. One by one, they begin to drift off, their heads lolling onto each other’s shoulders, or in some cases, onto their parents.

Adeline is the first to go, her breathing evening out as she curls up against Theo, who’s already half-asleep himself. Liam manages to stay awake a little longer, but soon his eyelids grow heavy, and he slumps over, using Dylan as a pillow. Even Zara and Oliver, who had been so animated just moments before, have stopped whispering, their fort abandoned as they snuggle into the cushions.

You glance up at Oscar, who’s watching the scene with a look of pure contentment. He meets your gaze, his eyes softening with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

“Look at them,” you whisper, your voice filled with awe. “How did we get so lucky?”

Oscar smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I ask myself that every day.”

You press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, and he tightens his arm around you in response, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of his presence.

As the credits begin to roll, Oscar shifts slightly, careful not to wake the pups who are using him as a makeshift bed. “Should we carry them to their rooms?”

You shake your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Let them stay. They’re all together, and I don’t want to disturb that.”

Oscar chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re too soft on them.”

“Maybe,” you concede, but there’s no real reproach in your tone. “But they’re only little for so long. I want to hold onto this for as long as I can.”

Oscar’s expression softens even further, and he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. “You’re a good mother,” he murmurs against your lips. “The best.”

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in the love that has seen you through so much. When you finally pull away, your heart is racing, and you’re left feeling light-headed, like you’re floating on a cloud of pure happiness.

As you both settle back down, Oscar’s hand rests protectively on your growing belly, his thumb tracing slow circles over the spot where your newest pup is nestled. You place your hand over his, feeling the connection between you, Oscar, and the life growing inside you.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of a blanket as one of the pups shifts in their sleep. The city twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the room, but inside, it feels like a world of its own — a world where nothing can touch you, where you and your family are safe and happy.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of Oscar’s embrace and the contentment of the moment wash over you. As you drift off to sleep, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, you can’t help but think that this is what happiness truly is — these simple, quiet moments that make life so incredibly beautiful.

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