#let's fill these pairing tags with nice things for once

[jincapableoflove]

A Jar Full of Us | one-shot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: best friend! jungkook, best friend! reader, college! au, unrequited love (?), idiots to lovers, best friends to ??? to lovers, angst, fluff, implied smut.

Summary: You never meant for him to find them. Hundred little confessions, folded away, never meant to be read. But now, they’re in his hands. And Jungkook, your best friend, knows everything. But he doesn’t say a word. He just watches you, with that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for something. And this Valentine’s Day, you might just have to find out what.

Inspired by: To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Word count: 10.2K+

Warnings: arguments, jungkook is a jerk, misunderstandings (a lottt of it), angstttt, reader and jk are huge idiots, mutual pining, implied smut (its not too detailed so that the story maintains the emotional connectivity), romantic intimacy, tooth-rotting fluff.

MOODBOARD

A/N: HERE IT ISSS! this is the longest fic ive written! tysm for all the support yall have given me in the teaser of this fic. i put out a taglist thinking no one would actually want to be a part of it but so many of yall asked to be tagged 😭 im so grateful! tysm i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writng it. lmk ur thoughts abt it after u read too <3 ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYY (someone date me pls)

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night, one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to study.

Joy, your roommate, is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside your bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box. You pull it out carefully, as if it were a fragile secret, and place it on your lap.

A soft breath escapes you as you grab a nearby pen and a book, neatly tearing out a tiny slip of paper. The motion is second nature now. Without even thinking, you let your emotions spill onto the paper, crafting a fleeting moment into something permanent.

Tonight’s memory is simple, but it still tugs at your heart. Jungkook had sent you another blurry picture of the moon, captioned with a casual, “Looks kinda pretty, right?” He knew how much you loved the moon how it fascinated you in a way you could never quite put into words. And he had remembered. Of course, he had remembered.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as you write:

Jungkook remembers the little things.

Once the ink dries, you fold the note with care and add it to the collection. The box is almost full now, brimming with countless tiny confessions, whispers of feelings you’ve never had the courage to say aloud. A hundred little moments, a hundred little thoughts, all dedicated to the boy who had unknowingly stolen your heart.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, your best friend, who always saves you the last bite of his food, even when it’s his favorite. Jungkook, who sends you blurry pictures of the moon just because he knows you love them. Jungkook, who insists on studying with you, despite his major being entirely different from yours, just so he can make sure you actually open a book instead of procrastinating.

This little tradition of yours had started as a joke. One night, after an especially soft moment where Jungkook had wordlessly placed his hoodie over your head because you were shivering, you had scribbled on a piece of paper: Jungkook is warmer than the sun.

You had smiled to yourself as you rolled up the paper and dropped it into the box. It had felt oddly nice to preserve that moment, capturing the feeling of it in something tangible. So you did it again. And again. And again.

Until, one day, you realized you had written over a hundred of them.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love. And you certainly hadn’t planned to confess.

But each tiny slip of paper holds a truth your heart refuses to say aloud.

And you're going to keep it a secret forever.

You met Jungkook almost three years ago, during freshman year. The first time you met him, he had been infuriatingly kind.

You had been struggling under the weight of a precariously tall stack of books, barely able to see over them, when suddenly, a few disappeared from the top. Startled, you looked up to see Jungkook grinning at you, effortlessly holding the books you had nearly dropped.

"You looked like you were about to tip over," he teased, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a playful huff, you had responded, "Maybe I wanted it to tip over."

Jungkook had only laughed, shaking his head. "I'll catch you next time," he had promised.

That night, you had written a tiny note and slipped it into your box: He wants to catch me when I fall, even without me asking.

From that moment on, your friendship grew in ways you hadn’t even noticed at first. Midnight walks and late night study sessions became routine, pulling you closer together with every shared moment. What had started as swapping notes for the one class you had together turned into sharing secrets. Somewhere along the way, before you even realized it, Jungkook had become your favorite person.

The box was almost full now.

You had written so many things over the years, each note capturing a small piece of him, a fragment of your feelings. Some were simple observations:

Jungkook frowns when he eats something delicious.

His hair is always a mess in the mornings. He hates it, but I love it.

His eyes smile before his lips do.

But one night, you had written something different. Something deeper. Something that felt like the truest thing you had ever put to paper.

I love him.

The moment the ink dried, panic had set in. You had almost torn it up, almost removed it from the box as if keeping it there would somehow make it real. But in the end, you had left it. Because the box was safe. No one was going to see it.

Especially not Jungkook.

One afternoon, you came back from your classes, ready to relax and unwind before the stress of exams fully set in. You had been looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe even a movie marathon with Jungkook to take your mind off things for a while.

But the moment you stepped into your dorm, you felt something was off.

Joy was sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee, her expression smug... too smug. A knowing smirk curled at the corners of her lips as she watched you walk in, and instantly, your stomach twisted with unease.

You narrowed your eyes. "What did you do?"

"I did you a favor," she said casually, taking another slow sip of her coffee.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. "What favor?" you asked, dread creeping into your voice.

Joy grinned. "I found that little cute box of yours."

Your heart stopped. "What?"

"Don't look at me like that," she waved a hand dismissively, as if what she was about to say wasn’t about to shatter your entire world. "It was just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought—what a perfect Valentine's Day gift for Jungkook. So…I wrapped it up and dropped it off at his place."

Silence.

A deafening, all-consuming silence as her words echoed in your head.

"You WHAT?!"

Your entire body froze in place, your breath catching in your throat as horror washed over you in waves. Your chest felt tight, your pulse roaring in your ears.

Joy merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly unbothered by the sheer panic on your face. "You're welcome," she said cheekily before promptly sprinting out of the room for her life.

But you couldn’t chase after her. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ringing in your ears.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

Still desperate to deny the possibility, you dropped to your knees and scrambled to check under your bed, your hands shaking as you reached into the familiar space where you had hidden the box for years.

Empty.

It was gone.

The tiny wooden box that held a hundred little moments, a hundred little secrets—your secrets—was gone.

And now it was in Jungkook's hands.

Of all people… Jungkook.

Jungkook lived in an apartment a little further away from your dorm. The second the realization hit, you bolted out the door without a second thought, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

Your plan was simple. Get to his apartment before he did. You knew his habits well enough to guess that he was probably grabbing a late lunch at that fast-food place near campus. If luck was on your side, you still had time.

He hadn’t seen it yet.

He couldn’t have seen it yet.

As you ran, your mind spiralled into chaos, bombarding you with every possible scenario, each one worse than the last.

What if he had already opened it?

What if he read through every single note?

What if he found the one that said I love him?

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

Jungkook was your best friend.

He was your person.

And now, he might know that you wanted to be more than just friends.

The mere thought made your chest tighten as memories of the two of you flashed through your mind. The times you spent together at the arcade, the countless movie nights, the time you and Jungkook had crashed Jimin’s birthday party with a ridiculous amount of booze.

And then…there was that moment.

The moment you almost confessed.

"I wish I could find someone who truly understood me," he had said one night, his voice softer than usual, lost in thought.

And you had almost said it. The words had been on the tip of your tongue, so painfully close—"I do."

But you swallowed them down.

Because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if saying those words ruined everything?

And now, thanks to Joy, you didn’t have a choice anymore. The truth was out there, sitting in a neatly wrapped box in Jungkook’s apartment.

The thought of his reaction sent your mind into overdrive.

Would he laugh?

Would he think it was weird?

Would he—

Would he reject you?

No. No. No.

You shook your head violently as you rounded the corner, lungs burning from the sprint. You’re going to get there before he does. You’re going to take the box back, and he’s never going to know about it.

That was the plan.

It had to work.

As soon as you reached Jungkook’s apartment building, you barely paused to catch your breath. Your legs ached from running, but panic kept you moving. You made a beeline for the mailbox section in the lobby, frantically scanning the names, searching for his.

Box 109.

You yanked it open.

Empty.

Your stomach sank.

Maybe his roommate took it upstairs? Yeah. That had to be it. Maybe it was sitting untouched on the kitchen counter, still wrapped, still safe, still unseen.

You latched onto that sliver of hope as you rushed up the stairs two at a time, unwilling to wait for the elevator. By the time you reached his floor, your hands were shaking. You raised a fist and knocked on the door, urgency making your knuckles sting.

No response.

You knocked again, harder this time.

Then, finally, you heard shuffling from inside. A few footsteps. The creak of the floorboards. A pause.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Standing right in front of you, framed in the dim light of his apartment, wearing an oversized grey hoodie that draped over his frame in a way that shouldn't have been so unfairly attractive. His dark hair was slightly damp, messy from a shower, strands falling into his eyes. His lips were parted in surprise, his brows slightly furrowed, and the expression on his face—confused yet soft, dangerously soft—made your already erratic heartbeat lurch violently.

But then, your gaze dropped to his hands.

And the world stopped.

The box.

The open box.

Your box.

Your secret, sacred collection of unsent confessions, of words meant only for the safety of your own solitude. The pieces of your heart you had never dared to show him.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

No, no, no, no—

"You—" You gasped, barely able to form words, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought for air. "You opened it?"

Jungkook blinked, holding the box loosely in one hand, fingers curled around the edges as if he had been going through its contents just moments ago. He tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said simply, as if the weight of the universe hadn’t just come crashing down on you.

Oh. Oh no.

Your legs wobbled. You had to physically stop yourself from collapsing right there in front of him.

His gaze flickered downward, and you followed it instinctively. In his other hand, he held one of the notes. One of your notes. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, a little smudged, a little rushed, but still legible.

He cleared his throat, then read aloud.

"I don’t know when it happened. But one day, he became my favorite person."

Silence.

It stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

You thought you might actually pass out.

"Jungkook, I—" Your voice cracked, but before you could even attempt to explain, he looked up and met your eyes.

And then, to your absolute horror—

He smiled.

Not a teasing smirk, not an awkward grimace, but a real, genuine, knowing smile. A little shy, a little amused, as if the weight of what he had just discovered didn’t terrify him nearly as much as it did you.

And then—oh god—he spoke again.

"So… do you still think my hair looks best when it’s messy?"

Your breath hitched.

Your brain went blank.

You wanted to scream.

The change was almost instant.

In the days that followed, Jungkook became… different.

Not in the way you had imagined, though.

You had been bracing yourself for a talk, a conversation where he’d tell you gently, maybe even apologetically, that he didn’t feel the same way. Or, at the very least, a moment of awkwardness before things slowly went back to normal.

But instead, Jungkook just… pulled away.

It started subtly at first. He stopped texting as much. The late-night calls that once lasted for hours dwindled into one-word replies and seen messages. The casual lunch meetups, the spontaneous arcade runs, the easy, natural way he used to gravitate towards you in a crowded room. all of it changed.

And yet, despite the distance, he never fully let you go.

Instead, he turned it into a joke.

Like today, when he leaned in far too close for comfort, during your shared class. His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear.

"So, I’m warmer than the sun, huh?"

You stiffened instantly, your hands tightening around your pen. He pulled back with a smirk, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he watched your reaction unfold in real-time.

It was unbearable.

He kept doing it.

Whenever you tried to talk to him— really talk to him —he would either dodge the conversation entirely or turn it into something lighthearted, something unserious.

Like the time you finally found him alone, determined to just get it over with, to ask what had changed between you two. Before you could even get the words out, he cut you off with another one of those smirks, his voice laced with amusement.

"So I look best in black? Good to know."

And then he walked away.

That was when you finally got the message.

Jungkook had taken it as a joke.

He didn’t care about your feelings.

It was like the caring, affectionate boy you had known for years had vanished the moment your heart had been laid bare. Like now that the truth was out in the open, he didn’t know how to handle it so he chose to mock it instead.

And worst of all?

He was pulling away from you completely.

The time you used to spend together? Gone. He was hanging out with other people now, filling his days with anyone but you. And when you did manage to cross paths, he only acknowledged you through those insufferable little comments, those cruel reminders of the things you had never meant for him to see.

It hurt. More than you wanted to admit.

Because maybe you had hoped that if he knew how you felt…

He wouldn’t push you away like this.

The next week brought the on-campus career fair an event mandatory for all students. You weren’t particularly excited about it, but at least it was a distraction, something to keep your mind occupied.

Or so you thought.

Because that’s when you saw him.

And he wasn’t alone.

He was walking around with Hana, a junior from your college. They moved easily through the crowd, side by side, completely immersed in conversation. And then, to make things even worse... he laughed.

A real laugh. The kind that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle, the kind you hadn’t heard in what felt like forever.

Your stomach twisted.

You weren’t expecting him to make it this obvious.

If he wanted to reject you, fine. If he didn’t feel the same way, you could live with that. But did he really have to parade it around like this?

Maybe this was his way of sending a message. Maybe he wanted you to know, without actually having to say it out loud.

A silent rejection.

What a jerk.

These days, you barely have the motivation to attend classes. You go through the motions, waking up, dragging yourself to campus, sitting through lectures. But your mind isn’t really there.

Because no matter how hard you try to distract yourself, the brutal reality of rejection lingers like a shadow, following you everywhere you go.

Jungkook threw away your feelings like they meant nothing.

You should have expected it, right? You should have known this was how it would turn out.

Maybe you were never meant to be anything more than a friend to him. Maybe, the moment he realized you held deeper feelings for him, he got scared. Or worse, maybe he just didn’t care at all.

The thought makes your chest ache.

Jungkook has always been a romantic at heart. You’ve seen it in the way he talks about love, in the way he watches romance movies with a dreamy look in his eyes. But clearly, you were never part of that dream.

And now, because of your stupid feelings, you’ve ruined everything.

You used to be his best friend. The one he joked around with, the one he trusted, the one he leaned on.

But now?

Now he barely looks at you.

And if he does, it's only to throw some teasing remark your way like your feelings were some kind of joke.

The person you were most angry at was Joy.

Not Jungkook. Not yourself.

Joy.

Because none of this would have happened if she had just left that damn box alone.

That day after the box incident, the moment you stepped back into your dorm, she was there, lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. She glanced up as you walked in, a smirk already forming on her lips.

“I didn’t expect you to come back so early. I thought you guys would—” she wiggled her eyebrows—“get freaky after the whole confession, you know?”

She laughed, expecting you to groan or throw a pillow at her like usual.

But then she saw your face.

Her laughter faded. “Wait… what happened?”

You didn’t answer. You just walked past her and sank into the couch, staring at nothing, your mind still replaying every moment from earlier—Jungkook’s teasing, his smirk, his distance.

You heard Joy shuffle closer, her voice softer now. “I… I’m sorry. Did I send the gift too early? Did Jungkook not like it?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, no, he loved it.” You turned to her, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you so much for your help, Joy.”

Her expression faltered. “Wait… what do you mean?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Jungkook probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”

Joy winced. She sat beside you on the couch, guilt written all over her face. “I— I really thought—” she hesitated, chewing on her lip. “I was so sure, though. That boy always had heart eyes for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, now you know he didn’t.”

Silence settled between you both.

And for the first time, Joy didn’t have anything to say.

The next time you see Jungkook, he’s with Hana again.

They’re standing by one of the campus notice boards, deep in conversation. You don’t mean to eavesdrop you’re not even sure why you stop but the moment you hear them talking, something in your gut tells you to listen.

Hana tilts her head, her voice low but clear. “Are you sure she won't find out?”

Jungkook sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know… Maybe it's better this way”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your first instinct is denial maybe they’re not talking about you. Maybe it’s about someone else entirely. But deep down, you know.

As far as you’re aware, there isn’t another she in Jungkook’s life. Not before. Not when you were still close.

You’ve already been replaced.

Your chest aches as you piece it together. He doesn't want you to find out because he's probably in a relationship with Hana now. Because he doesn’t want to hurt you with a direct rejection, he thinks hiding his relationship with her is the kinder option.

It isn’t.

You swallow the lump in your throat and force yourself to step back, turning away from the scene before you can hear any more.

You decide then that no matter how much it hurts, no matter how pathetic it makes you feel, you can’t bear being apart from Jungkook.

Even if he doesn’t love you back.

Even if he only sees you as a friend.

Losing him completely? That’s not something you’re ready for. Maybe you never will be.

So, you do the only thing you can think of.

You wait for him after class.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you watch the door, your hands clammy with nerves. When Jungkook finally steps out, your breath catches. He looks the same—same hoodie, same soft brown eyes—but everything feels different now.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

"I get it, okay?" you say, voice firm despite the way your throat tightens. "You don’t like me. And that’s fine. I hope she makes you happy."

Jungkook halts mid-step.

His jaw clenches. His fists curl at his sides.

"You don’t understand," he mutters.

"Then make me understand, Jungkook," you plead. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to keep going, even as your last shred of dignity slips through your fingers. "Can we still be friends, at least?"

Silence.

Jungkook doesn’t reply.

And somehow, that hurts more than rejection ever could.

There's a party happening, hosted by one of the biggest party animals on campus. Everyone is invited, and Joy insists that you go.

After much convincing, you finally give in. You've mended things with her and finally forgiven her. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe you just needed someone to blame.

You decide to go, hoping for a distraction. Maybe the music, the drinks, and the endless chatter will help you forget, even if just for a night.

But you already know Jungkook will be there.

Probably Hana too.

And that's fine.

You'll just stay out of their way.

The party is in full swing when you arrive with loud music, flashing lights, bodies moving wildly on the dance floor, and the unmistakable smell of booze in the air. Bottles are being passed around, and the energy is electric.

A few friends from your classes spot you and pull you in, offering drinks. You take them all without hesitation, reaching for the strongest ones, letting the alcohol burn away the ache in your chest.

Jungkook is nowhere in sight.

Good. Maybe he didn’t come. Maybe you can actually enjoy yourself tonight.

With the alcohol settling in, your limbs feel lighter, your mind a little hazy. You dance to the outdated playlist blaring through the speakers, laugh with strangers, and let yourself let go just for a while.

But after some time, it all feels like too much. The heat, the noise, the overwhelming buzz in your veins. You slip away from the crowd and make your way to the rooftop, breathing in the crisp night air, letting it cool your flushed skin.

And then you sense someone else's presence.

You turn, your head spinning slightly, and there he is.

Jungkook.

You blink, wondering if you're imagining him, but his gaze is fixed on you, a slight furrow between his brows. There's something like concern in his expression as he watches you, taking in your drunken state.

Your heart stumbles in your chest.

The alcohol makes everything feel lighter, your body, your thoughts, your inhibitions. So when you see Jungkook standing there, looking at you with that unreadable expression, the words just spill out before you can stop them.

“I liked you, you know,” you mumble, swaying slightly. “But now I realize… I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook doesn’t react. No apology, no denial, not even a flicker of emotion across his face.

He just exhales softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine,” he says simply, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Just like that.

The cool night air suddenly feels suffocating, the weight in your chest heavier than ever. You watch his retreating figure, your heart shattering all over again.

The next morning, you wake up with the nastiest headache ever. Your head throbs, your mouth is dry, and your body feels like it’s been wrung out. You groan, forcing yourself to sit up as the hazy memories from last night slowly piece themselves together.

Jungkook. The rooftop. The way he just… walked away like he didn’t care.

You shake the thought from your mind, dragging yourself out of bed. There’s no point dwelling on it. Your exams are approaching, and you need to focus.

Deciding to get some studying done, you head to the library. The quiet atmosphere should help clear your head or at least distract you from the mess that is your life.

But the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

Jungkook is sitting at the table you both used to frequent, completely absorbed in scribbling something into a notebook. For a second, you consider turning around, but then something catches your eye.

He rips out a small piece of paper, folds it neatly, and without hesitation, slips it into a glass jar sitting beside him.

Your heart clenches.

Is it for Hana?

You don’t stick around to find out. Before Jungkook can notice you, you turn on your heel and walk away.

February 10th. Your birthday.

You wake up with a small flicker of hope. Maybe today would be different. Maybe Jungkook had been ignoring you all this time because he was planning something, some kind of surprise. That had to be it, right?

Surely.

So you wait.

By 3 PM, your phone is filled with messages from friends, family, even distant relatives reaching out to wish you. Everyone but Jungkook.

Not even a single text.

The hope that had carried you through the day starts to crumble, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t go to class. What’s the point? This might just be the worst birthday ever.

That’s when Joy bursts into your room with a grin.

"You got a package!" she announces, holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Your heart leaps.

Jungkook?

You rush over, fingers fumbling as you tear open the wrapping, only for your stomach to drop.

It’s from your parents.

Disappointment washes over you, but you push it aside. They went through the trouble of sending you something, and you should be grateful. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile as you pick up your phone and call them.

"Thank you," you say, voice steady. Because at least someone remembered.

There was still time.

It was only evening plenty of hours left before midnight. Jungkook would surely text before then. He had to.

Joy, noticing your gloomy mood, tries to lift your spirits. "Come on, let’s go out drinking. Have some fun, at least for your birthday."

But you shake your head. "I’m not in the mood."

She sighs, clearly frustrated but doesn’t push you. Instead, she flops onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I hate this," she mutters. "I hate seeing you like this. And I hate him for treating you this way."

Her voice is laced with anger, but there’s something else there too—guilt.

Because deep down, Joy still blames herself.

If she hadn’t sent that gift early, if she hadn’t tried to play cupid, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe you wouldn’t be spending your birthday like this waiting for a boy who might never come around.

Jungkook didn’t text that day.

He forgot your birthday.

You waited all day, checking your phone every few minutes, hoping for a message that never came. Midnight passed, and still nothing.

The realization settles deep in your chest, heavier than you expected. You feel pathetic.

Pathetic for hoping. Pathetic for waiting. Pathetic for still caring.

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.

You can’t afford to miss any more classes. You haven’t stepped foot on campus since your birthday, but today, you decide to go.

You have no motivation to see or talk to anyone. You tell yourself that you’ll just quietly attend your classes and head straight back home. No distractions. No unnecessary interactions.

But as soon as you reach campus, you notice a crowd gathering. There’s some kind of matchmaking event happening for Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

Great. Just great.

Everything about it feels like the universe is mocking you, rubbing salt on an already raw wound. Heart-shaped decorations, pink confetti floating in the air, and couples laughing completely oblivious to how suffocating it feels for you.

You try to move past the crowd, but suddenly, someone pushes forward, and you get caught in the chaos. You stumble, losing your balance and bracing for impact—

But you don’t hit the ground.

Because Jungkook catches you.

His hands grip your arms, steadying you out of instinct. His touch is firm and warm, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

For the first time in days, you look up at him. And for the first time in days, he looks right back at you.

He doesn’t let go of you immediately.

His grip stays firm, his fingers pressing into your arms like he’s grounding himself, like he’s hesitating. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something.

The music playing in the background fades into a distant hum. Everything around you slows. The laughter, the chatter, the festival lights it all blurs.

All that’s left is him.

Still holding you.

Your voice barely comes out, a whisper against the space between you.

“Do you even care, Jungkook?”

His hands tighten for a fraction of a second. His jaw clenches. And for a brief, fleeting moment, you think you see something something raw and unspoken flash through his eyes.

But then, like a switch flipping, he lets go.

So fast that you nearly stumble again.

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words cut through the air, sharp and merciless.

Then he turns. Walks away.

And you’re left standing there, alone in the middle of a festival meant for love.

This is it.

This is your answer.

Jungkook has made his choice.

And now, it’s time for you to make yours.

You have to move on.

That night, you decide. Jungkook was never meant to be yours.

It’s a painful truth, one you’ve been avoiding, but tonight, you accept it.

Needing a distraction, you start clearing out your closet, pulling out old clothes, forgotten trinkets, anything to keep your hands busy. That’s when you see it.

The pink heart-shaped box.

Your breath hitches.

You had snatched it from his hands that day, barely able to meet his gaze before bolting out of his apartment and driving straight back to your dorm. You had shoved it deep into your closet, hoping that if you buried it away, you could bury your feelings too.

For a moment, you consider throwing it away. What’s the point of holding onto it now? Jungkook knows. He read the notes, saw every piece of your heart laid bare. And in the end, it changed nothing.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid.

One by one, you pull out the little folded papers, unfolding memories you once held so close.

"I don’t know when it happened, but one day, he became my favourite person."

"His laugh is my favorite sound."

"I wish he knew how much he means to me."

Tears blur your vision.

You never wanted him to know.

Because you never wanted to lose him.

And now, you have.

The weight of it crashes over you all at once, and before you can stop it, the tears spill over, hot and relentless.

You clutch the notes to your chest as silent sobs wrack your body.

You’ve been holding the pain in for too long.

So tonight, you let the dams break.

And you cry yourself to sleep.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You feel miserable.

Forget having a Valentine this year, you don’t even have a best friend anymore.

So you stay in bed all day, buried under the covers, refusing to acknowledge the world outside.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to last year’s Valentine’s Day.

You and Jungkook had gone out for dinner not as lovers, not as anything more than friends, just two people who didn’t have dates. You remember how he laughed at the terrible restaurant music, how he stole fries from your plate like they were his.

You miss it.

No—wait. You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

Shaking off the thought, you grab your Nintendo Switch and start playing, trying to distract yourself.

Then the doorbell rings.

You ignore it. Joy is probably home she’ll get it.

But it rings again.

What is Joy doing?

Then it hits you that she probably stayed over at her boyfriend’s place last night.

With a groan, you push off the covers and make your way to the door. You swing it open, ready to shoo away whoever it is—

But there’s no one there.

Your gaze drops to the ground.

And then you see it.

A singular jar, placed carefully on the doormat.

You stare at the jar, a strange sense of familiarity creeping in, but you can’t quite place it.

Where have you seen something like this before?

Your mind scrambles for an answer, flipping through memories like pages in a book, but nothing surfaces.

With hesitant fingers, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the cool glass against your palm. It’s heavier than you expected.

That’s when you notice the writing on the lid, scrawled in red marker.

"To Y/N."

Your heart stutters.

You blink, trying to steady your breath, but the moment feels unreal—like you’ve stepped into a dream.

It’s only then that you notice the jar is filled with tiny rolled-up notes, crammed inside like secrets waiting to be unraveled.

Your mind starts spiraling.

What is this? Who left it? Why does it have your name?

Your hands tremble as you twist the lid open, the slight pop of the seal echoing in the silence.

You reach inside, fingers brushing against the countless little slips of paper.

With bated breath, you pull one out.

You carefully unroll it, eyes scanning the words scribbled in rushed, familiar handwriting.

"I lied."

That’s all it says.

Two words.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes trace the messy yet unmistakable handwriting.

Jungkook.

Your fingers tighten around the note as your pulse quickens.

It’s his.

The realization slams into you with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your breath turns shallow as the memory crashes into you—

Yesterday.

The crowd. The music. The overwhelming blur of people around you.

You had stumbled, nearly falling, only for Jungkook to catch you. For a fleeting moment, he held you close. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

You had searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you even care, Jungkook?"

You had wanted him to say yes. Even a little. Anything to make the ache in your chest feel less unbearable.

But instead—

"No, Y/N. I don’t."

His words had cut deeper than you ever thought possible.

And then he had let go. So fast, like touching you had burned him. Like you meant nothing at all.

You remember the way your heart had cracked, the way he had disappeared into the sea of people, leaving you stranded in the middle of a festival meant for love.

But now... Now you stand here, gripping a jar full of his words.

"I lied."

Your hands fumble as you reach into the jar again, pulling out another note.

Unrolling it with shaky fingers, you read:

"I thought if I pushed you away, it’d be easier for you to move on. But the truth is, I don’t want you to."

A sharp pang strikes your chest.

Your mind reels, and suddenly, you're back at the rooftop party—drunk, vulnerable, spilling your heart out in slurred words.

“I liked you, you know? But now I realize I was just wasting my time.”

Jungkook had stood there, silent, unreadable, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

No apology. No denial. Nothing.

And then, just as effortlessly, he had turned away.

"You'll be fine," he'd said before walking off, leaving you alone in the cold night.

The memory burns like an open wound, and yet, here you are, standing in your doorway, holding the truth he should have told you that night in the palm of your hands.

Your fingers tremble as you pull out the next note.

"I missed your birthday on purpose because I wanted to give you something that lasts longer than a text."

Your breath hitches.

He didn’t forget?

He chose not to text?

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, but it fades just as quickly as the weight of his words settles in.

You reach into the jar again, pulling out another note, heart pounding against your ribs.

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook had spent hours writing your birthday note.

He had sat at his desk that night, a dozen crumpled papers around him, rewriting the same message over and over, never satisfied. His hands had been shaky when he finally folded the note and slipped it into the jar.

Because words were permanent.

Because he was afraid.

Because deep down, he knew that if he told you how much you really meant to him, he wouldn’t be able to push you away anymore.

And that terrified him.

Your grip on the jar tightens as you pull out the next note.

"I was scared you’d see me in the library that day. And you did. I almost stopped writing. But I wanted to finish this for you."

Your breath catches in your throat as a memory rushes back—

The library.

That afternoon, when you had finally dragged yourself back to campus to study for your exams, you had seen him sitting at your usual table, scribbling something into his notebook.

At the time, you thought nothing of it until you watched him tear out a tiny slip of paper and slip it into a jar.

A jar.

The very same one you now hold in your trembling hands.

Back then, you had turned away, assuming it was for Hana.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you.

Every note in this jar was for you.

Your vision blurs as you stare down at the tiny rolled-up messages still waiting to be read.

He had been writing to you all along.

By the time you reach the last few notes, your hands are trembling. Maybe you can’t even read them through the tears clouding your vision. The weight of all those misunderstandings, every ignored confession, every painful silence, every moment you thought he didn’t care, crashes down on you all at once.

Your breath is uneven as you unroll another slip of paper.

"You thought I didn’t care. But I did. I always did."

A sob escapes your lips, the ache in your chest unbearable.

You clutch the jar against you like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held because it is. Because it’s him.

Every unspoken word. Every hidden feeling. Every truth he was too afraid to say aloud.

And now, you finally know.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom of the jar, realizing the significance there are exactly 100 notes, just like the box you once gave him.

With shaky hands, you pull out the 99th note.

“I was always bad at saying things out loud. So I wrote them instead. I just hope it’s not too late for you to read them.”

Your chest tightens.

You take a deep breath and reach for the last note, your fingers trembling. Slowly, you unroll it, heart pounding in your ears.

“Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

The paper almost slips from your fingers as your vision blurs with fresh tears. A shaky laugh escapes your lips, somewhere between disbelief and overwhelming emotion.

After everything, after all the silence, the pain, the misunderstandings he’s finally saying it.

And suddenly, all that matters is what you’ll do next.

The moment the words register, you don’t think.

The jar nearly slips from your grasp as you scramble to your feet, your heartbeat hammering louder than the thoughts racing through your mind. Jungkook. He couldn’t have gone far he must have just dropped it off.

You fling the door open, barefoot, barely even stopping to grab your keys. The cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. You sprint down the stairs, nearly stumbling in your rush to get outside.

Your eyes dart wildly around the street, your breath coming out in frantic puffs. Where is he?

Then, you see him.

A few feet away, Jungkook is walking slowly, hands in his pockets, head low like he’s already bracing for disappointment. Like he’s already convinced you won’t come after him.

But you do.

“Jungkook!”

He freezes.

You don’t stop running until you’re right in front of him, breathless, clutching the jar close to your chest like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

His eyes widen when he sees you messy hair, no shoes, trembling hands still gripping his gift like it’s the most important thing in the world.

You swallow hard, voice shaking. “Did you mean it?”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, the night stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Then, barely above a whisper, “Yeah.”

Your chest heaves, breath uneven, voice shaking as you clutch the jar tighter.

"You absolute jerk." Your voice wavers, but the anger, the hurt, the sheer weight of everything he’s put you through spills out in every word. "You sat there, letting me think I meant nothing to you. And the whole time, you were—" You shake the jar, almost laughing in disbelief. "—writing these?"

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets, jaw tight, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say next.

"You could’ve just told me, Jungkook. You could’ve just—" You pause, gripping the jar like it’s the only thing holding you together. "Why? Why lie to me?"

He exhales sharply, his voice rough, like he’s been holding it in for too long.

"Because I was a coward."

You blink. You weren’t expecting him to admit it so easily.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "I thought pushing you away was the right thing to do. If I let you think I didn’t care, maybe you’d move on. Maybe you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you like I did."

Your throat tightens. Your fingers dig into the glass of the jar. "You were the one hurting me, Jungkook."

His eyes finally meet yours, and the weight of them almost knocks the air from your lungs. He looks wrecked.

"I know." His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Then why?" Your voice trembles, frustration bubbling over. "Why did you let me think I was chasing something that wasn’t even there?"

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he doesn’t answer. But then, his voice comes, low and raw.

"Because I was afraid you’d realize you deserved better."

Silence settles between you. A silence so thick it presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You stare at him, your vision blurring. You should walk away. You should scream, cry, or do anything. But instead, you do the only thing you can think of.

You reach into the jar, grab a note at random, and shove it into his hand. "Read it."

Jungkook hesitates. Then, slowly, he unfolds the paper. His fingers tremble as he reads the words he once wrote.

"If I had been braver, I would’ve told you every single day how much you meant to me."

He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the paper like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with something you can’t quite name.

"Say it now," you whisper.

Jungkook's breath catches. His grip on the note tightens like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

You wait. Trembling, heart pounding, eyes locked onto his. Daring him to finally, finally say it.

He exhales shakily. His voice is low, rough like it hurts to speak, but he does anyway.

"Y/N…"

You don’t look away. Don’t let him run from this.

His throat bobs. His hand curls into a fist at his side, then slowly unclenches.

"I love you."

A sharp inhale cuts through you. Even though you were waiting for it, the words hit like a tidal wave.

Jungkook shakes his head, almost laughing, but there’s no humor in it just raw, aching regret.

"I loved you then. I love you now. And I don’t think there’s a single version of me that won’t love you."

Your vision blurs, the weight of everything pressing down on you all at once.

"Then why—" your voice cracks, "—why did you let me think you didn’t?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His face twists with something close to pain.

"Because I was scared." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Scared that if I let myself have you, I’d ruin you. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth it."

Your hands clench at your sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me."

He nods. Swallows hard. Takes a step closer.

"I know." His voice is softer now. "And if I could go back, I’d do it all differently. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and tell you—"

Your lips crash into his, years of longing and heartbreak unraveling in a single, desperate moment. Your fingers fist into his jacket, pulling him closer, closing the distance like you’ve been waiting forever. Because you have.

Jungkook catches you. His arms wind tight around your waist, grounding you, anchoring you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. His grip is firm, unyielding, as if holding you is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

The kiss isn’t soft it’s frantic, raw, filled with all the words you never got to say. It’s a confession, an apology, a plea. His lips move against yours with urgency, pouring everything into it, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent pushing you away.

Jungkook tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and a shiver runs through you as his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. His other hand spreads against your back, pressing you impossibly closer, like even this isn’t enough, like he’d fuse you together if he could.

You melt. Every wall you built, every ounce of anger, every misunderstanding crumbling, dissolving into the heat of him. The way he kisses you feels like an answer to a question you didn’t know you were asking. Like a promise.

When you finally pull apart, neither of you lets go.

Jungkook rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, still uneven, still shaken. His hands remain on your waist like he’s afraid that the second he lets go, this will all disappear.

Your fingers stay curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His voice is raw when he finally speaks, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

You exhale, shaking your head, the weight of everything still pressing against your chest. Your voice is quiet, but steady. “Then spend every day proving that you do.”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh one that sounds broken and real, like he can’t believe he’s still allowed to have this moment with you.

“Deal,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses you again.

The door barely clicks shut before Jungkook is on you again, his hands framing your face as his lips crash into yours. There’s no hesitation now, no careful restraint only heat, only the raw, aching need that’s been simmering between you for far too long.

His body presses against yours, pushing you back into the door, and you gasp against his lips. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping over yours with slow, deliberate intent. He tastes like something addictive like want, like longing, like the kind of hunger that makes your stomach tighten and your knees go weak.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. His hands roam down, slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming along your bare skin. His touch is scorching, leaving a trail of fire wherever he moves. He pauses, his breath ragged, lips barely brushing yours.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, voice rough, uneven.

You shake your head, tilting your chin up until your lips ghost over his again. "I don’t want you to stop."

The words break something inside him.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungrier this time, more desperate. His hands slide up your back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hard lines of his body, the way his chest rises and falls unsteadily against yours. One hand grips your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you shudder, while the other slides lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it up against his hip.

A quiet moan escapes you at the feeling, and he groans in response, pressing harder into you. His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he lingers. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he soothes it with his tongue, sucking gently, enough to make you arch into him, enough to make your breath hitch.

"Jungkook—" His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and he exhales sharply against your skin, like the sound is enough to undo him.

His grip tightens as he lifts you effortlessly, hands settling under your thighs. Instinct takes over, and your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you across the room. He lays you down on the bed with care, but there’s nothing careful about the way he follows you down, covering your body with his own.

He hovers above you, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes searching yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your bottom lip, his touch unbearably light.

"You’re sure?" he whispers, voice thick with something heady.

Your only answer is a whispered "Yes," breathless, certain.

Something shifts in him at your words. His lips find yours again, but this time, he takes his time exploring, savoring, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you. His kisses trail downward, along the curve of your neck, across your collarbone, his mouth mapping out a path of heat and sensation. His hands move with just as much purpose, slipping under fabric, pushing it aside, fingers tracing bare skin with an intimacy that makes your pulse stutter.

Every brush of his lips, every slow, deliberate touch sends waves of electricity through you, igniting something deep and primal. Clothes are discarded in slow, teasing movements, the heat between you building with every layer that falls away.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, down your arm, over the curve of your breasts, his breath hot and uneven. He watches you, eyes dark with something intense, something almost reverent, as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along your bare skin.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, voice filled with something deeper than desire.

You reach for him, pulling him back up, needing his mouth on yours again, needing more. He obliges, kissing you fiercely, like he never wants to stop, like this moment has been waiting to happen for far too long.

His hands explore moving towards your heat, his touch reverent yet possessive, like he’s memorizing every inch of you, like he’s making up for all the lost time. You arch into him, breath hitching, hands gripping onto his shoulders as heat coils low in your stomach.

"Jungkook," you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

His breath catches, and he exhales shakily. "I’ve got you," he murmurs against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m right here."

And then there’s no more talking only movement, only passion, only the feeling of finally, finally being exactly where you both belong.

The air is thick with warmth, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts pounding in tandem as the last echoes of your shared breaths settle between you. The world outside might still be turning, but in this moment, it doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him, skin against skin, the weight of what just happened pressing down like the softest, heaviest thing in the world.

Your body is spent, muscles trembling faintly from the aftershocks, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook is still holding you. One arm draped lazily around your waist, the other tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His touch is slow, soothing, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real. Like if he lets go, you might slip away.

You stay like that for a while, chests rising and falling in sync, your head resting just above his heart. The rhythm of it is steady now, no longer racing like it had been just moments ago. Still, there’s a softness to it, an unspoken question lingering in the quiet space between you.

It’s you who finally breaks it.

“So…” You shift slightly, fingers trailing absentmindedly along his chest. “Hana knew about the jar?”

His hand stills for the briefest moment before he exhales a small, breathy laugh. His voice is thick with exhaustion, but there’s amusement in it too.

“She didn’t just know about it.” His fingers resume their slow, idle circles against your bare skin. “It was her idea.”

You blink. “…What?”

Jungkook hums in confirmation, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Yeah. She was the one who told me to do it—to fill a jar with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.” He pauses, then adds, “She also threatened to expose me if I didn’t.”

You scoff, though you can’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. “So let me get this straight… You couldn’t tell me how you felt, but you told Hana?”

Jungkook turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the amusement in them is undeniable. “I didn’t tell her. She just… figured it out.”

Of course, she did.

You huff, feigning annoyance, but your fingers betray you, tracing soft, aimless patterns along his collarbone. “Still. She knew before I did.”

Jungkook grins, rolling onto his side to face you fully. One hand slips beneath the sheets, finding your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you jealous?”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

His laughter vibrates against your skin, rich and warm, before he dips down to kiss you, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into it. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

Then, softer now, more serious, he murmurs, “Are you gonna answer me?”

Your brow furrows slightly. “Answer what?”

Jungkook leans over, reaching toward the nightstand where the jar still sits, its notes untouched except for the last one.

“The question,” he says, retrieving the single unfolded slip of paper. He holds it between you, and even though you already know what it says, your heart still stutters when your eyes skim over the words again.

Y/N, will you be my Valentine?

Earlier, you had left it unanswered, too overwhelmed by everything that had come before it. But now, after everything after confessions, after heartbreak, after finally finding each other again—there’s no hesitation.

You reach out, plucking the note from his fingers. Slowly, carefully, you fold it again, tucking it beneath your pillow like something precious, something worth keeping. Then, meeting his gaze, you whisper, “You never needed to ask.”

Jungkook exhales, slow and shaky, like something inside him has finally settled. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Your breath catches. Not because of his confidence but because, deep down, you realize you’d never wanted to say no in the first place. Maybe you had tried to fight it. Maybe you had convinced yourself that the past had built too many walls between you. But now, lying here in the warmth of his arms, the truth settles into your bones like something that had been waiting for you to accept it all along.

It had always been him.

Your fingers tighten in the sheets as you search his gaze, looking for hesitation, for doubt for something to make this feel less like a dream. But there’s nothing. Just him. Just you. Just this moment you both fought so hard to reach.

Jungkook watches you, waiting, always waiting, his hand still resting against your cheek as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

So you close the distance.

You kiss him slowly this time, letting it sink in. The warmth of his lips, the taste of him still lingering, the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. When you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing the same air, hearts beating in time.

And then, with a quiet, knowing smile, you whisper, “Then don’t.”

Jungkook’s lips part slightly, his expression shiftingas if those two words had knocked down every last barrier between you. And maybe they had. Because before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you against him again, tucking you close, his hand slipping into yours beneath the sheets.

Neither of you speak for a long time after that. You don’t need to.

Outside, the world keeps turning, time moving forward just as it always does. But here, in the hush of your dorm room, wrapped up in him, it feels like the universe has paused just for you.

Not to make up for lost time.

But to remind you that some things—some people—were never really lost at all.

And maybe, just maybe, they never would be.

EPILOGUE : Years Later – Valentine’s Day

The door clicks shut behind you as you step into the apartment, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The evening air still clings to your skin, carrying traces of laughter and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence.

It had been another perfect night one filled with inside jokes, stolen bites of each other’s food, and his usual exasperated attempts to get you to pick a restaurant instead of saying, “Anything’s fine.”

Jungkook is nowhere in sight, giving you the solitude you need. You don’t hesitate. Your steps are purposeful as you cross the room, crouching down beside the bed. With practiced ease, you reach under the frame, fingers brushing against the familiar surface of a small pink, heart-shaped box.

But this time, there’s something else.

Your fingers find the jar, the one that started it all.

You pull them both out carefully, as if they were a fragile secret, and place them on your lap.

Soft footsteps approach. Then, a familiar weight sinks onto the mattress beside you.

Jungkook’s voice is quieter now, fond. “Didn’t think I’d see those again.”

You smile, running a thumb over the worn edges of the box before glancing at him. “I don’t know what made me reach for them.”

He hums, gaze flickering between the objects in your hands. “Habit, maybe. Or fate.” Then, smirking, “You always did have a thing for digging up answers.”

Rolling your eyes, you pop the lid off the jar, fingers fishing out an old note. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but you already know what it says.

"Y/N, will you be my Valentine?"

Jungkook watches you, expectant. “You never actually answered me, you know.”

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. “Jungkook, we’re literally married.”

“And?” He leans in, teasing. “I’m just saying, a verbal confirmation wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoff but humor him anyway, fingers curling into his sweater as you whisper against his lips—

"Yes, Jungkook. I’ll be your Valentine."

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in. The jar sits forgotten on the floor, the pink box nestled beside it.

Once upon a time, you had pulled it out, searching for clarity. Looking for a sign.

You didn’t realize then you never needed the answers inside.

Because you’d already found them.

Because you’d found him.

And maybe that was the answer all along.

taglist: @iamstilljk @hirochan112 @withluvjm @amarawayne @jeon-has-left-you-on-seen @blueofocean @tattzjeon @tsick @stuti2904 @gukkiebabysblog @taekritimin123 @whisperingonyx @sadgirlroo @nerdycheol @hoshiskimchi @blueberriesm @kooksrqcer @minimoninini @dreamersparacosm @yok00k @whothefuckisthishoe @prxdajeon @darkangelfei @sunainasworld @kia091106 @khadeeeeej @welcometomyworld13 @noshametempo @bakuhoethotski @ohyeah35sworld

thank you so much for reading! let me know what u think about it <3

[jjkeverlast]

accidental roommates | jjk

✧ pairing dilf!jk x fem!reader

✧ rating explicit (18+)

✧ summary moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate.

✧ warnings & tags roommates AU, hate to love, fluff, angst, humor, reader hooks up w. namjoon (it's very brief!), mutual pining, hurt/comfort, smut, guk is a tease, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, cowgirl, happy ending!

✧ word count 14.7k

✧ author's note this fic is a re-upload! if you've seen it before, this is why:)

For the first time since a week ago, you’re finally able to breathe for once. 

The sigh you let out is comforting and freeing. The awful ruckus of moving has caused you to roam on the streets with a lack of sleep, eye bags that can be caught from miles away and a groggy voice not daring to disappear from your vocals. 

A mess, really. 

You know it, your ex-roommate Ash knows it too and even though she and her partner are at fault here, it was bound to happen. 

You see, Ash had met Lucca through a mutual friend, the mutual friend being you and you were surprised at how well they complimented each other. 

The night they met was filled with nervous glances and flushed red cheeks due to the excitement. They both deserved each other. So, when they finally announced their relationship with you, you were more than thrilled. 

Although, after a year of them dating they had come to the conclusion of moving in together, which was a big step for their relationship and a step back for you, due to you ending back to square one and having to find an apartment yourself.  

The image of Ash’s expression when she kindly asked you to move within the next month was imprinted in your mind. She didn’t want to kick you out this way, but it was an important and big step into her relationship with Lucca, and the decision needed to be made regardless. You didn’t really have a say in this. 

Firstly, the apartment was Ash’s and in the end, it is her decision on whom she wants to share it with. 

It took you a week. 

A whole week to find the perfect place for you. 

The pictures sold the place nicely, the living room looking spacious and decorated firmly with stable furniture, and being desperate to find anything, you called the owner. The conversation went great. He was very quick on letting you get the apartment, sending you a confirmation email the day after you had agreed on the deposit. 

You were doing it, and it felt great. 

Although, your lack of sleep had been caused by the last-minute packing, having to clear out your room as quickly as possible. It was mostly because of Lucca themselves, having to move out of their sister’s loft, so the timing was indeed tight. But hey, everything turned out well even though you look like a Yeti who hasn’t been able to find a place to rest. 

It’s fine really, now you’ll be able to at least lie down before unpacking everything. 

With a trembling hand, you manage to push the code in, the door opens and you’re just about to step in when you look up and find a shirtless man in your apartment. You don’t say anything, the both of you staring each other down for a quick second before you manage to close the door, convincing yourself you’re hallucinating. 

It’s a thing, Ash had told you countless times whenever you managed to withhold an all-nighter in your shared place. First, there’s being overtired where every ounce of energy left bounces like a little child on a trampoline, then there’s the lack of sleep eating you alive even though your eyes fail you to shut, being used to staying open, which creates the last step: hallucinations. 

Maybe it’s the lack of sex which made you paint a beautifully sculpted man with tattoos only in a towel in front of you. 

You’re praising your brain for creating such a lively picture that causes you to grin and shake your head before you decide to re-enter. 

He’s there again. Your horny hallucination. 

The hallucination takes a turn when he screams into your face. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!”

It’s then that you snap yourself back to reality, realizing this indeed is a real person and you’ve managed to scare the shit out of him. The only thing you find yourself doing is scream back, which turns into violent screaming in unison and by now half of the neighborhood is probably writing a complaint to this very apartment. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!” You find the courage to finally scream back and the man in front of your eyes squints in discomfort, shaking his head as he swallows your words. 

“Y-your apartment”

You fold your arms, scoffing as your head turns towards the open kitchen. “Yes. Mine.”

He begins to laugh, his abs tensing along with the rhythm and you hate yourself for growing hot over his upper body. 

“You’re funny.” He points at you and to prove yourself to him, you look for the confirmation email that proves you have the right to own this place. 

“Here.” He steps closer, the scent of his shampoo infiltrating your nostrils and you notice a form of sweet yet musky scent. While you’re too busy trying to ignore it, the man in front of you has his full attention on your screen.

He smacks his lips, his composure straightening along. “There has to be some sort of mistake.”

You hum in agreement.

How wrong could this possibly go? 

The only solution that comes to mind like a wave, is to call the owner. You hold a finger up, pausing for whatever word is about to come out from the stranger in front of you while it starts to dial. It quickly gets interrupted, by a voice telling you the number doesn’t exist. You refuse to believe it, so you continue to call three to four times while the man crosses his arms, sighing out loud. It’s at that moment you notice the detailed and colored tattoos covering his arm in a sleeve. 

“He’s… he’s not picking up.” The defeat drags itself at your feet. The proof you once had to own this apartment is gone, except the confirmation email but then again there must’ve been some mistake — a big one to say the least. 

“Do you honestly believe that?” His tone indicates he’s irritated and the water droplets on his skin have almost dried out — the fact that you notice scares you more than the situation you’re currently met with. 

“I mean, clearly, you’ve been scammed.” The words swallow you whole, your composure losing against you and your head drops with your heart. Of course, it was too good to be true, because again since when have you ever been lucky when you’re on your own? 

“Fuck.”

It seems as if you’ve lost, but you’re not willing to give up just yet. You spent all of your savings on the deposit and the last thing you’ll do is ask your strict parents for money, which isn’t only super hard but exasperating as well. 

“Well now that this whole problem is settled, get out.” The tone is harsh and you flinch, tears threatening to spill as you slowly walk to the entrance. 

“Wait—” You hold your hands up, your feet freezing down on the tiled floor and the stranger’s expression turns into pure disgust yet confusion. You aren’t really sure, your mind is basically clouded; reasons being your lack of sleep. Which currently isn’t helping the situation you’re currently standing in. If only you could snatch it like Margot Robbie snatches bags and watches in ‘Focus’. This reminds you, you should probably watch it again, it was really good and—

“Hello?!” The sound catches you off guard, your eyes roaming back onto the half-naked stranger whose name still stays unknown. 

“Just. Please.” 

You’re fucking tired and this was the last thing that needed to be added onto your plate yet you’re still standing, except you’re hopeless and homeless. 

“Please?! Get. Out.” 

You drop down to your knees, your tears falling freely, and you plead. 

“I have nowhere to go. My old roommate is finally starting a new life with her partner, my parents are fucking strict and are the last I’m calling for help. I’m basically fucking homeless and I just wanted to lay down in my apartment after moving out last minute, and sleep.” You’re rambling all kinds of nonsense, throwing a whole scene in front of a guy who’s stepped out of the shower. You feel bad but you’re lost. 

You have nowhere to go. 

“Seriously, I’m fucked. Help me out, just—just for six months and I’ll be out of your sight.” Your voice cracks, every limb that has managed to withhold your posture, collapsing all together into one. 

You’re done. 

A deep sigh catches your attention, your glossy eyes looking up to see a semi-smile resting on the guy’s face. 

“Six months.” He repeats as he traces his fingers on the patterned ink, decorating his arm. “Fine. Just don’t make me regret this. I’m Jeongguk by the way.”

Finally, you discover the name of the pretty stranger. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” You’re holding yourself back from hugging him, mostly because of his naked chest and the last thing you need is to feel warm skin on your own. 

Instead, you introduce yourself and he smiles awkwardly making you reconsider your awful ruckus from before. You basically admitted how fucked your life is at the moment, bringing along the strict parents into the mix and we all know, this won’t end well. 

A sudden cry snatches every ounce of your attention, coming from one of the rooms. Has someone been here all this time? 

“Shit. I think we might’ve woken her up.” 

Her. Great, you’re gonna live with a clingy couple, after having no mercy in showing you were checking him out — multiple times. This is going to be absolute hell. 

All while you’re imagining the messy and mostly awkward encounters you’re going to face while living with a couple, you don’t notice Jeongguk walking back out accompanied by a certain someone. 

“A baby?!” 

Great. Not only are you going to live with a couple, but their newborn baby too. 

“You sound… surprised.” He decides to sit down, the baby’s head resting on his bare and tatted shoulder, doe-eyed and mouth agape. 

“Where’s… where’s your girlfriend?” 

Shit. Are you even listening to yourself? You met this guy not even an hour ago and you’re already invading his private life with intense questions. 

“Don’t have one. It’s just me and So-ah here.” He taps her back, a few burps escaping her as you stay quiet. 

The scenery in front of you causes a faint smile to appear on the brim of your lips. If you weren’t determined to own the apartment yourself, you’d let every ounce of you swoon over how careful Jeongguk is with his daughter. 

Jeongguk takes a hold of her, changing positions as she faces him, her eyes as big as his. It’s crazy how alike they look. 

Your heart melts into a thick puddle when Jeongguk rubs his nose against So-ah’s, a soft giggle sounding like a lullaby escaping her right after. 

“Oh my god.” Jeongguk’s mouth drops and before confusion seeps through you he continues. “So-ah, you just laughed for the first time.” 

Fuck. You’re so screwed. 

“She’s adorable.” You smile fondly, Jeongguk breaking eye contact with his daughter at your comment. 

His eyebrows frown, clearing his throat as he shifts in his seat. “Thanks.”

Okay, there were exactly two things that fumed you over his flat-toned answer. 

One was that he was still a complete stranger and you’ve always felt somewhat threatened and uncomfortable when people you didn’t know made or said anything that clicked an icky feeling at the pit of your stomach, which quickly turns to irritation. Because here you are being fucking nice and you get this in return? What a fucking asshole. 

Second, it’s probably an ego thing, thinking he’s hot enough to get away with being quite literally rude. If it weren’t for his sudden act of rudeness towards your very tired Yeti-looking state you might’ve actually grown fond of him, but that is all forgotten now. 

You’re getting that fucking apartment.

Working as a kindergarten teacher meant a lot of things. 

Patience, energy, and consistency. 

For you to reach there before showing up at work, you’ll need to fuel your body with a smoothie. 

The clock hasn’t even turned six when you push the mixer’s button, a loud noise erupting in the quiet apartment. 

Did you do this on purpose knowing Jeongguk isn’t starting work yet? Maybe. Did he notice, is fucking angry and walking up to you at this moment? Very much so. 

“Seriously? What the fuck?!” 

The shouting from your roommate pleases your early morning state and you force an annoying smile as you greet him with a cheerful good morning.  

“It’s for work!” You push the button for a little longer, his eyes rolling back when So-ah starts crying in the room next to you. 

The daughter does make you feel an ounce of regret but that’s mostly because you love babies and she’s made a good impression on you already. 

Jeongguk groans in frustration, his grumpy state returning back to his daughter to soothe her while you hurriedly get to work. Your colleague is probably already there, having a different schedule than you. 

Traffic isn’t terrible and you’ve caught onto the lack of sleep that vanished during your moving week. 

As you reach work, Taehyung waves excitedly to you from the entrance, while holding a cup of coffee. 

“You look awfully happy.” Taehyung remarks when you walk past him and inside, re-adjusting a few things before the parents begin to arrive with their sunshine of kids. 

“I am.” 

Your mood definitely has something to do with nailing to piss Jeongguk off early in the morning. That’s what he gets for being a complete ass after you’ve embarrassed yourself multiple times, and just trying to be kind. 

“Care to tell me?” Taehyung moves his eyebrows, suggesting you got lucky and you quickly shut down the idea, shaking your head no along with you explaining it was an early win for you. 

“I basically pissed off my roommate this morning. He’s an asshole so he deserved it.” You shrug your shoulders, Taehyung following behind you as you both make the place ready, the clock ticking loudly behind you. 

“Roommate? I thought you had the place all to yourself?” Taehyung hadn’t gotten any updates from you since your stressful week, so it made sense for him to be completely lost when you mention Jeongguk in the context of your cheerful mood this morning. 

“I got scammed. But I’m not surprised. I’ve carried bad luck all my life and I blame it on my strict parents.” You joke, Taehyung chuckling nervously unsure if you’re completely kidding or deadly serious. It’s hard to tell.  

“Scammed, meaning the apartment you thought you had was already occupied?” Taehyung has lived in the city all his life, has been familiar with the scammers roaming in between others, and cheating the system who carries a blind eye. 

“Exactly, and here I was thinking shit like that only happens in the movies.” You scoff at the ridiculousness of the overall situation. 

How come you ended here? Not only with a scam, but a buff tatted guy and his baby daughter? Truly fucking wild. 

“Oh babe, you’d be surprised. So who’s the roommate? An old cranky guy?” Taehyung jokes once again, the sounds of chairs clinging against each other roaming in the air, the both of you settling in the common room ready for the children. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say that…” Taehyung’s interest quirks an ounce higher, his movements stopping to a halt, waiting for you to spill. 

“His name is Jeongguk and he has a baby daughter named So-ah.” Taehyung’s face drops, eyes wide as his mouth hangs wide because clearly, no old cranky guy is named Jeongguk. 

“If you tell me right now he’s hot, I’m gonna think you’re outliving everyone’s fantasy.” Taehyung holds up his pointy finger, eyebrow intact with his overall movement and you cringe because you really don’t want to admit Jeongguk is hot — even though you totally ogled his abs for a good twenty minutes the first time you met him. 

“He’s—” You try to form it into words while your mind flashing images of Jeongguk with wet hair, droplets of water covering his abs that tensed whenever he chuckled at your ridiculousness the day you got scammed. 

“Oh my god… You’re living with a DILF.” The term Taehyung uses makes you wheeze, losing composure as you move your body along with the laughter that escapes you. 

Taehyung doesn’t get more of a word before the first pair of parents walk in, hand in hand with their child. 

The day has just begun. 

Meanwhile, Jeongguk is currently taking care of So-ah. She hasn’t stopped crying since you decided to be annoying, and flush down the good morning that Jeongguk had anticipated down the drain. 

Maybe he should kick you out, because right now? His left ear hasn’t stopped ringing while his daughter’s face is almost purely red due to her countless cries. 

“So-ah, please.” Jeongguk places her down on his chest, her face rubbing on it, wetting it along, the discomforting sound continuing. Jeongguk feels lost and he wants to avenge himself on you because you’re probably dancing at work while he’s here, with dark eye bags and a crying baby under his arm. 

Sometimes it makes him wonder if it would be different if So-ah’s mother were still around. Maybe she wouldn’t cry as much. 

Afterall, a mother’s touch is important for babies at her age, and Jeongguk feels guilty. 

In reality, he just wants So-ah to be okay, to feel understood, and frankly, at the moment understanding her is difficult. He continues to pat her back, rocking her back and forth in his gaming chair, set up by the computer that has an awaiting meeting for him in two hours. 

He can do this, he’ll just freshen up as soon as she goes back to sleep. 

The day spins around faster than possible, the sun already setting behind the building in an orange glow and Taehyung is currently wiping down the mess that was left on the tables since lunch. 

“So, regarding your DILF, is he single?” You’re close to spilling the scene where you asked Jeongguk where his partner was only to get a no, which only made you more curious than before. It isn’t likely for you in the span of living to have met a single father. In most cases it’s single mothers, so to say you were surprised was an understatement. 

“He—Yes, apparently he is.” You’re uncertain and Taehyung casually nods at the response, making you reconsider if you’re even allowed to be curious regarding Jeongguk’s living situation. 

“Well, this is the start of a beautiful love story.” 

You stick your tongue out in offense to Taehyung’s joke while he cracks himself up, boxy smile on display as well. 

“You’re the worst.” He trails right behind you as you close down the place, and leave it behind for tomorrow. 

“Right, but if anyone were to ask you’d still point at me for being the best colleague you’ve ever had.” He’s not entirely wrong and you get to prove it to him by remaining silent. 

After you and Taehyung part ways, you hurry home in desperation to see if the grumpy expression is still remaining on Jeongguk’s face from this morning. 

To your surprise, it isn’t. 

You find Jeongguk sprawled on the couch, his chest exposed and his baby daughter laying on top of him, both of them breathing in sync. 

If Jeon Jeongguk didn’t open his mouth from time to time you’d start to like him, because seeing him sleep in complete silence makes him seem…not so bad as you had thought. 

But then again he was rude even though he certainly helped you out after your scam episode. 

You decide to make dinner, leaving the both of them to rest while listening to soothing jazz music. Somehow with time passing by and the smell filtering through the apartment as it cooks, Jeongguk stirs awake, So-ah along with him. He manages to push himself upwards, holding onto So-ah and finds you swaying as you cook in the open kitchen. 

Memories cloud Jeongguk’s mind back when he was still with— 

“Oh! You’re awake.” 

You had felt a pair of eyes boring at your back, so when you turn to see Jeongguk spacing out you make yourself noticeable. 

“Yeah, it smells great by the way.” 

It’s then Jeongguk realizes he’s yet to wear a shirt and it’s become an accidental habit of being shirtless in front of you. The last thing he wants is for you to get the wrong signal. 

“Thank you.” You take the compliment lightly, letting it pass by your head so your focus remains on the main goal; having Jeongguk willingly move out. 

Jeongguk is completely oblivious to your plan, although it would make sense if he slowly started to catch on to your smoothie early morning surprise. But for now, you’re hungry and there’s still a good five months left before you leave each other’s sight. 

The dinner turns out successful, So-ah doesn’t cry once and both you and Jeongguk groan afterward, bloated from overeating. He thanks you before returning back to his room, leaving you to do all the dishes. 

Great.

Living with Jeongguk had run smoothly, your hopes in gaining the apartment fading the more time went by with him being extremely kind. It hadn’t offended you but you were certain he was rude and didn’t like you. 

But early Monday morning, Jeongguk proved to you exactly how much that apartment means to you. 

You hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep that night, the walls a lot thinner than you had anticipated, and So-ah had cried most of the night, not only waking her dad but you as well. 

Babies are wonderful creatures, but at night it surely paints a different motive than the one you’re being met with during the day. 

Blaming Jeongguk for your lack of sleep would be rude on your part, so you accept it by making a cup of coffee early in the morning. It was the next best solution, and as you’re sitting on the counter waiting for the water to boil, Jeongguk walks in dressed in black joggers and a white t-shirt. 

“Morning.” 

You’re holding back from laughing at how alike the both of you look. So-ah really destroyed you for the better. Jeongguk joins in on the coffee solution, making his mug ready right next to you in silence. 

When the water is ready, you jump down, pouring the warm water after adding a few teaspoons of instant coffee. Jeongguk follows you right after, stirring it with his spoon. As you walk towards the refrigerator, Jeongguk is quicker than you, pulling the milk out and pouring it into his mug. 

“Could you pass me the milk?” 

Jeongguk grins at your question and it’s then you notice he’s poured the remaining drops, leaving no milk for you. 

Fucking marvelous. 

“Better luck next time.” He winks at you, slowly walking back to his room as you flick him off without him noticing. 

Yeah, you definitely spoke too soon when you even let yourself think Jeongguk might be a nice guy. 

He’s not and he just started a war. 

Taehyung notices how different your state is today, the flatlined smile throwing him off guard. Being the good colleague that he is, he makes you sit down as he prepares everything. 

“I’m not doing this for free, spill.” 

You groan out of tiredness and anger, holding your face that can barely keep up with everything around you. 

“Fucking…Jeongguk.” You squint your eyes, already plotting how you’ll manage to rip every part of him apart. Taehyung would lie if he admitted that you in your current state aren't scaring the shit out of him. 

“I was beginning to think he was remotely nice, until this morning.”

Taehyung hums along, uncertain where exactly you’re heading with this conversation. It’s something Taehyung has learned about you in the past years you’ve worked alongside, your conversations always turn in a different direction no matter how precisely you start them.  

“Taehyung, would you get pissed if someone took the rest of the milk when you’ve already prepared a cup of coffee?”

“He didn’t—”

Everything makes sense for Taehyung. 

Jeongguk has practically started a war with you because one thing everyone should know when it comes to you is to never mess with your morning coffee. Specifically when you desperately need one. 

“He surely fucking did.” You scoff out of disbelief. “He even laughed when he emptied it.” The images flash through your brain once more, a betrayal that has caused a lot of damage to your already ruined morning state due to So-ah. 

“Go make yourself some coffee, and don’t let him get to your head for now. It’s not worth it.” 

Taehyung was right, it would stupid to hold milk accountable for Jeongguk and your reasons for despising him. Hopefully, it was a mistake and you’ll return home with a better state of mind, Jeongguk leaving you rather at peace.

You follow Taehyung’s instructions, walking inside the semi-small kitchen for staff, and begin making your fuel for the day. 

Work turns out easier after you get coffee in your system. Taehyung takes most of the tasks throughout the day to ease down any forms of headaches that might come along due to your lack of sleep. Small moments and gestures like these, remind you how truly lucky you are to have a colleague like Taehyung. He has never made things more difficult, always managing to make everything easy and simple. 

As soon as the clock strikes, parents fill up the entrance awaiting their children who are too busy playing outside, enjoying their free time. The sun has already moved down further, creating a beautiful sunset, whose golden rays move along the filled playground that’s messy due to every toy in sight being used throughout the day. The parents were kind enough to teach their kids to always clean up after themselves, leaving the entrance the remaining spot to clean. 

When you’re about to reach for a broom, Taehyung catches it before you. 

“Go home. I got this.” His voice is stern as if he already knows you’re about to plead to do it yourself. 

You let out a sigh, thanking him as many times as you can in the span of you dressing yourself up to go outside. Taehyung brushes you off, a semi-smile resting nicely on his framed face. 

The apartment is empty, silent, and dark when you enter. You wonder where Jeongguk must’ve gone, the sky from outside already an ounce darker than when you stepped out from work. You’re not too worried, your petty self still being remotely annoyed with the morning incident. 

When you walk past the living room, you feel yourself crash down, wanting to watch a movie. 

It’s much needed after today and maybe it’ll slowly lull you to sleep. Since you were little, sleeping at night had always been a difficulty so a distraction in the background could likely push you towards the sleep you’ve been craving. 

You settle on watching a crime film that piques your interest on Netflix. You’ve managed to add a bit more lighting inside the apartment, a few lamps surrounding the couch.

The plot starts to reveal itself, leaving you speechless as you bite down on the blanket, eyes fully open, trailing along whenever someone moves on screen. You’re just about to catch a big lead to why the certain murder occurred when Jeongguk walks in with So-ah drinking from a bottle.  

“Oh, hey.” You quickly say before averting your attention back on the screen. Jeongguk squints his eyes, having trouble seeing the big screen but as soon as he catches on, he tsks. 

“Wait— Isn’t that the film where the protagonist is actually the killer?” The moment Jeongguk speaks, a clue leads to having the protagonist on the list of who might’ve done it and now Jeon Jeongguk just asked for a ticket to hell. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You exclaim loudly, throwing both hands and arms in the air, frustration seeping through every vein coursing through your body. You’re seeing absolute red. 

“Oh shit, my bad.” You aren’t even glancing towards him, but you can hear the shit eating grin he’s trying to suppress. You close your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, remembering Taehyung’s words from earlier. It’s not worth it. He’s right, it truly isn’t and you’re being weak by letting small annoying things set you off like a grenade. 

You’re not letting him win. Things have only just begun.

Returning the favor with annoying gestures had only turned the next two months into a living hell. The apartment went from walking on a dream to walking on eggshells. 

It had started with a minor mistake in the early morning with the dreadful lack of sleep and constant bickering. Your dreams of owning the apartment slowly crashing as you’ve been looking for new apartments, wanting to get furthest away from Jeon Jeongguk and his annoying behavior. 

If it weren’t for your colleague you would’ve handled the situation differently, but Taehyung has always assured you to stand your ground and not let him get to you. 

Jeongguk has already been kind enough for you to stay, so to make it easier, it’d be best not to mess it up by revenging yourself. But you badly wanted to. Just once. To see Jeongguk’s face twist to annoyance in a mere second, while you try your best not to sing happily right after. 

Although, the only thing keeping both you and Jeongguk on the ground from ripping one's hair out, was So-ah. Her magical baby powers overrule the both of you, and her eyes are wide and full of hope for what’s to come. 

When you had first moved in, Jeongguk wasn’t exactly fond of you being near his daughter but with time and his suddenly busy schedule, he had you keep an eye out for So-ah who was distracting him too much with her cuteness. So-ah quickly loved your company, your small jokes, and countless attempts in making her giggle. Jeongguk couldn’t keep you two away from one another, so he accepted it. 

The weekend had finally rolled around and after a week of none other than small bickering and disagreements between you and Jeongguk, you were finally at ease in your bedroom. The discussions between you were ridiculous — Taehyung’s words not yours. It could go from a minor detail, like the temperature in the apartment to a full-on debate on whether the film he wants to watch is better than your own choice. 

As you’re laying in your bed, you look up at the painted dark blue ceiling, your curtains open, accepting the outside light to shine in. You’ve always loved the natural darkness and how it covers every room differently than if everything is covered, turning to full darkness. You turn constantly, your mind being more awake than you had anticipated. It humors you that you always feel exhausted after speaking with Jeongguk, yet here you are alone full of energy. 

Tossing and turning continue for what feels like an hour and you decide to give up. Rather than reading a book, you walk out to grab a glass of water, your throat feeling a bit dry. You figure Jeongguk isn’t awake at three in the morning, which explains why you don’t put on pants, walking out in nothing but a satin white t-shirt paired with black lace underwear. 

Even though you don’t like Jeongguk, you still show respect to him and his daughter by carefully walking to the kitchen to not make any sounds. 

The living room has the same light as your bedroom, and as you’re about to turn, you bump into Jeongguk. His skin feels warm, but you quickly pull away and Jeongguk blinks at you with tired eyes. 

“M’ sorry.” His voice is deep, groggy even and you collect the dots that Jeon Jeongguk just woke up. 

“All good.” 

Thankfully, Jeongguk is too busy going to the bathroom to notice your sleeping attire that exposes half of your body. You sigh in relief, accidentally catching a glimpse of Jeongguk’s ass, being hugged by his boxers as he walks further away from you. 

You shake your head, ignoring what your eyes caught onto, focusing solemnly on getting water as planned. 

You’re just about to drink your last cup when Jeongguk walks past you once again. 

You’re not in the mood to talk to him, so you chug your water wanting to leave the kitchen as quickly as possible. It doesn’t exactly go as planned, the water trickling by the corners of your lips, further down your shirt. 

“Fuck.” You groan, realizing how much you’ve accidentally spilled. The fabric clings onto your breasts and as you’re about to pull on it, you catch Jeongguk turning his head quickly from your direction. The action doesn’t throw itself in your head, instead, you become annoyed. 

“What?” 

Why is he still standing here? Shouldn’t he already be back in his room by now? 

“J-just grabbing some water.” Jeongguk mumbles, his voice becoming an ounce lower, and somehow it catches your attention that he sounds nervous? 

“Be my guest.” You move further away, trying to cover your lower half that’s exposing too much to your roommate who has managed to piss you off for two months straight with absolutely no reason. 

Jeongguk keeps his eyes on the sink, although you throw a glance at him and you really wish you hadn’t. His arms are flexing as they hold onto the counter, and the prominent veins and lines of his definite muscles are showcased. You begin to notice each small detail of his tattoos that have managed to flow into one big art piece on his arm. 

You’ve been too annoyed with Jeongguk to notice the minor details of him. The Adam's apple bops in the rhythm of the gulps he takes, almost inhaling the water quickly. Somehow your body reacts quicker than your mind, shivers coursing through your body the longer you stand and watch Jeongguk. The staring gets cut off when Jeongguk places the empty cup down on the counter. 

He throws a glance your way, your skin already feeling hot by the close space. 

“Well, goodnight.” Jeongguk walks past you, your faces inches apart for a split second before he’s gone from your sight. 

When you lay back down in your bed, your heart is beating incredibly fast and your body doesn’t stop growing hotter. 

What is wrong with you? This is Jeongguk. As in your roommate, who’s made it his life’s mission in pissing you off and almost made you explode like a grenade for the whole world to see and the neighborhood to hear. 

All while you’re wondering why exactly your brain feels fuzzy, Jeongguk is freaking out in his own room. 

His dick has managed to betray him. He blames it on his lack of hookups, but deep down he knows it was because of you. His mind had fogged for a minute when he caught a glimpse of what was hiding underneath your t-shirt, but as soon as the water dripped down he didn’t even have to try, and guess. He’s angry and frustrated at himself and if it were possible to have a one-on-one fight with his dick, he would’ve. His body had only betrayed him and that made him certain that he had to stay far away from you. 

Although, whenever Jeongguk closed his eyes he could see your naked thighs, and the black lace seeping through the material of your shirt. He could see the water dripping down your neck, rolling further down your chest and creating a wet patch on your— 

This has to stop. Jeongguk begins to think of everything that turns him off until his state finally gives in, letting him sleep. 

It takes longer for you. Your mind has always loved to play tricks, letting you imagine the what if’s of every situation you’re met with. They’re simple at first, only showcasing what you had seen earlier when your eyes didn’t stop studying every minor detail on Jeongguk. 

But then they turn an ounce wilder. 

You’re tracing your fingers on the ink, while his arm is holding onto your waist, keeping you close and letting you feel his warm breath against your cheek. 

Fuck. 

Do you…do you want Jeongguk? 

Taehyung notices it the moment you step into work; how quiet you are, not daring to meet his eyes when he cheerfully greets you. 

Something happened and you’re not exactly proud of it. 

“So…am I gonna have to ask or are you going to tell me what happened?” 

Your eyes pop open, gulping down as you mumble out a weak ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ and quickly move on with your tasks for the day. 

Taehyung isn't letting that slide so easily and sooner or later he’ll either find out for himself or you’ll tell him out of panic. 

It takes Kim Taehyung exactly four hours to find out exactly what has been bothering you, and just as you’re about to leave the kindergarten, he decides to bring it up. 

“You want to fuck him.” 

You stop in your tracks. 

Okay, now is the time to use your fifth grade theater skills, and act as if Taehyung didn’t speak your thoughts out in the open. 

“Fuck Jeongguk? As in Jeon Jeongguk, my annoying roommate who’s made my living situation a living hell the past two months? Oh please.”

“Y/N, you know that doesn’t work on me.” 

You sigh loudly, rolling your eyes. 

“Fine…fine!” You throw your hands in the air, giving up and Taehyung just shakes his head over your dramatic antics. 

“I thought you, ‘hated his guts’.” Taehyung quotes you from the past hundred conversations you’ve had regarding your roommate, and the new banter you’ve yet shared before you left for work. 

“I still do! This will fade, do not worry.” 

Not only are you trying to convince Taehyung, but yourself as well. 

Taehyung doesn’t argue with you. You have enough on your plate already and he knows you’re very much conscious of the mess you’ve brought upon yourself. 

When you leave work and Taehyung, your phone starts to ring in your pocket and you’re thrilled to see Ash’s name displayed. 

“Hi!” Your friend cheerfully greets you and the conversation immediately flows. 

She tells you how amazing it’s been living with Lucca and how they’re currently making her favorite dish. 

“That’s great, Ash.” 

When she’s about to ask you how your new apartment is, Lucca cuts her off, talking on the phone instead. 

“Y/N, come over! We have your favorite wine.” 

The offer tempts and you agree, taking transportation towards your old apartment. It doesn’t even faze you to text Jeongguk that you’ll come home a bit later, too excited to see your friends again after so long. 

Jeongguk has just finished changing So-ah’s diaper, when he realizes it’s dark outside, and you haven’t come home yet. Just as he begins to worry, he scolds himself internally for worrying about you as if he even cares about you in the first place. You’re doing fine without him. Right? 

So-ah grabs Jeongguk’s attention when she manages to roll over for the first time and Jeongguk cheers her on, grabbing her face to give her kisses everywhere, her small arms flapping excitedly. 

“Wait, you have a roommate?” Lucca asks, as they pour a glass of wine in your almost empty glass. You find yourself sighing whenever Jeongguk is mentioned and you quickly see the images of his body against the natural darkness in the kitchen. 

“Yes, two actually.”

You spend the following thirty minutes explaining your scam situation, Jeongguk and his baby daughter now being your roommates for the next six months. You mention your irritation towards Jeongguk due to his annoying antics, and the kitchen encounter. 

“Woah.” Ash’s mouth has gone dry from keeping it open for a while, and Lucca doesn’t hesitate to drink up the rest of the wine in their glass. 

The situation is indeed complicated and overwhelming, and you chug along with Lucca on the wine while Ash starts coughing. 

“But listen, just because I’ve thought about it doesn’t mean I would.” 

Excuses, that’s all you can bring to the table and Ash rolls her eyes at your ridiculousness. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You haven’t had sex for almost a year. Babe, sorry but you’re gonna cave.”

Your mouth drops in offense and you turn to get Lucca on your side, but they stay quiet which indicates they agree with every word. 

“S-seriously? You’re gonna pick Ash’s side over mine?” You point at your ex-roommate who smirks, knowing she’s won. 

“Y/N, you need a distraction.” Ash speaks first, holding onto both of your hands for comfort because she’s worried, you can see it in her eyes that slightly crinkle when she speaks. 

“A distraction?”

“Yes, someone who isn’t Jeongguk.” 

Lucca winces at the idea, watching Ash explain an idea that’s nothing but awful and stupid. 

“Um, maybe this isn’t—” Lucca tries to butt in, but Ash is stubborn. 

“Nonsense. Isn’t your friend Han-bin still single?” 

“Well, yes but—”

“Perfect. Y/N, you should go on a date with Han-bin. Not only is he a very sweet guy, but he’s an excellent cook.” Ash tries her hardest to sell Han-bin as best as possible for you, and at this point you’re desperate to try anything. 

Anything to get Jeongguk and his beautiful body out of your mind. 

“Okay, you can give him my number.” 

Lucca is about to throw a fight with Ash, but you’ve already agreed so there’s no point. 

“You’re not going to regret this babe.” Ash convinces you but deep down your gut feeling shifts uncomfortably at the idea. 

Two and a half weeks.

That’s how long it takes for you and Han-bin to find some time for the date that he’s planning. The pictures frame him nicely and it’s no lie that the guy is attractive, although your mood is dreading a weird feeling that you can’t exactly pinpoint. 

As you walk towards the exit, Jeongguk notices how nicely dressed you are. Normally you don’t bother adding a formality to your outfits, but this…this is too classy, just not you. 

“Going somewhere?” 

You turn your head, Jeongguk watching you from the couch as So-ah is laying on his lap, holding onto her dad’s pinky. 

“Actually, yes I am.” You answer confidently, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag. 

The bag in whom your mom gifted you for your eighteenth birthday, when in reality you had just wished for Jackson Wang merch. The bag is more expensive than your rent, and you feel weird using it today. Somehow you aren’t that comfortable being yourself yet, also the restaurant Han-bin has picked out is way too expensive for you to just wear your casual attire. 

“But, I’m gonna be late for my date so I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

Jeongguk tries not to react to the word date but his jaw clenches as he tries to force out a fake smile. 

“Good for you.” Jeongguk expects you to leave right away, but you catch him by surprise, walking towards him and So-ah. 

“Bye, sweet girl.” You squish her cheeks softly, as she coos excitedly and Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat at the love seeping through the room. His daughter watches you with careful eyes as you remove yourself from the frame, walking towards the front door and Jeongguk’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, so much that he thinks he might faint. 

You’ve only been gone for an hour and Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about you. 

His mind constantly brings him back to the small kitchen encounter, and how both of your faces were inches apart for a split second before he continued to walk towards his room. 

He needs to make this stop. He’s here at home groaning and frustrated over you, you who’s currently on a date, and having a wonderful time. 

“And then, my roommate proceeded to drink the same water!” Han-bin explains jokingly, and you’ve lost track of the many experiences he’s had with his four roommates. You’ve lost your appetite halfway through, the gross details clouding your mind, but thankfully it’s that, and not Jeongguk. 

Before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Han-bin compliments your hair and you smile at the sincerity of his comment. It makes you realize that Jeongguk has never once pointed out something great about you. 

Wait, why are you even thinking about Jeongguk? 

There’s only one solution for Jeongguk to get you out of his mind. He’s collected the dots and it’s because he hasn’t sex for over a year that he’s acting this way. You just managed to set him off. It’s nothing more personal than that. 

So, easily he’ll just need to get out there, maybe Jimin would be down to go clubbing tonight, and hopefully Jeongguk gets to take someone home. 

Which explains why he’s now talking to his sister, arranging for her to have So-ah for the night. She gladly accepts, her husband shouting nonsense in the background which causes Jeongguk to laugh before his sister has to hang up because of her husband most likely messing up everything in the kitchen. 

The date for you might’ve started out a bit weird, but slowly you realize Han-bin is a really nice guy and you enjoy talking to him. The conversation has a good balance, both of you speaking equally about interests, experiences… 

“Want me to walk you home?” Han-bin suggests. 

You have a lot on your mind, even though you managed to have a nice evening it doesn’t stop the nonsense that you’ve created for yourself regarding your roommate who you have the hots for. 

“I’m okay, thank you for tonight Han-bin.”

It’s a little over midnight when you arrive home. 

The apartment is dark which is code for bedtime for the whole house. You move quietly, tiptoeing to your room and trying your best to not make a sound. 

You hear a sudden whine echoing in the apartment, and before you can ask any questions, Jeongguk’s name is being moaned loudly. Your body freezes in place, and you feel like you’re stuck to the floor. 

Unfortunately, the moans don’t slow down, only increasing — the thin walls doing no favor for you. 

Emotions are all over the place. You don’t know if you’re angry, irritated, sad, happy, uncomfortable…you’re just stuck with no words. 

As you finally lay down, you squish a third pillow over your head, blocking out the skin slapping sounds, and somehow, weirdly enough, the situation motivates you to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head.

Two and a half weeks. That’s how long it takes for you and Han-bin to find some time for the date that he’s planning. The pictures frame him nicely and it’s no lie that the guy is attractive, although your mood is dreading a weird feeling that you can’t exactly pinpoint. 

As you walk towards the exit, Jeongguk notices how nicely dressed you are. Normally you don’t bother adding a formality to your outfits, but this…this is too classy, just not you. 

“Going somewhere?” 

You turn your head, Jeongguk watching you from the couch as So-ah is laying on his lap, holding onto her dad’s pinky. 

“Actually, yes I am.” You answer confidently, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag. 

The bag in whom your mom gifted you for your eighteenth birthday, when in reality you had just wished for Jackson Wang merch. The bag is more expensive than your rent, and you feel weird using it today. Somehow you aren’t that comfortable being yourself yet, also the restaurant Han-bin has picked out is way too expensive for you to just wear your casual attire. 

“But, I’m gonna be late for my date so I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

Jeongguk tries not to react to the word date but his jaw clenches as he tries to force out a fake smile. 

“Good for you.” Jeongguk expects you to leave right away, but you catch him by surprise, walking towards him and So-ah. 

“Bye, sweet girl.” You squish her cheeks softly, as she coos excitedly and Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat at the love seeping through the room. His daughter watches you with careful eyes as you remove yourself from the frame, walking towards the front door and Jeongguk’s heart doesn’t stop pounding, so much that he thinks he might faint. 

You’ve only been gone for an hour and Jeongguk can’t stop thinking about you. 

His mind constantly brings him back to the small kitchen encounter, and how both of your faces were inches apart for a split second before he continued to walk towards his room. 

He needs to make this stop. He’s here at home groaning and frustrated over you, you who’s currently on a date, and having a wonderful time. 

“And then, my roommate proceeded to drink the same water!” Han-bin explains jokingly, and you’ve lost track of the many experiences he’s had with his four roommates. You’ve lost your appetite halfway through, the gross details clouding your mind, but thankfully it’s that, and not Jeongguk. 

Before you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, Han-bin compliments your hair and you smile at the sincerity of his comment. It makes you realize that Jeongguk has never once pointed out something great about you. 

Wait, why are you even thinking about Jeongguk? 

There’s only one solution for Jeongguk to get you out of his mind. He’s collected the dots and it’s because he hasn’t sex for over a year that he’s acting this way. You just managed to set him off. It’s nothing more personal than that. 

So, easily he’ll just need to get out there, maybe Jimin would be down to go clubbing tonight, and hopefully Jeongguk gets to take someone home. 

Which explains why he’s now talking to his sister, arranging for her to have So-ah for the night. She gladly accepts, her husband shouting nonsense in the background which causes Jeongguk to laugh before his sister has to hang up because of her husband most likely messing up everything in the kitchen. 

The date for you might’ve started out a bit weird, but slowly you realize Han-bin is a really nice guy and you enjoy talking to him. The conversation has a good balance, both of you speaking equally about interests, experiences… 

“Want me to walk you home?” Han-bin suggests. 

You have a lot on your mind, even though you managed to have a nice evening it doesn’t stop the nonsense that you’ve created for yourself regarding your roommate who you have the hots for. 

“I’m okay, thank you for tonight Han-bin.”

It’s a little over midnight when you arrive home. 

The apartment is dark which is code for bedtime for the whole house. You move quietly, tiptoeing to your room and trying your best to not make a sound. 

You hear a sudden whine echoing in the apartment, and before you can ask any questions, Jeongguk’s name is being moaned loudly. Your body freezes in place, and you feel like you’re stuck to the floor. 

Unfortunately, the moans don’t slow down, only increasing — the thin walls doing no favor for you. 

Emotions are all over the place. You don’t know if you’re angry, irritated, sad, happy, uncomfortable…you’re just stuck with no words. 

As you finally lay down, you squish a third pillow over your head, blocking out the skin slapping sounds, and somehow, weirdly enough, the situation motivates you to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head. 

Step one to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head, find a clubbing partner. 

“Taehyung, shut up you haven’t done anything other than complain about the lack of sex you’ve been experiencing lately.” You reason, as you look through your closet for eye-catching clothes that surely will get you laid. 

“Fuck you, you always know what to say to get me to agree.” 

With a groan Taehyung finally says the magic word, telling you he’ll see you later. This was easier than you had expected. 

Step two to get Jeon Jeongguk out of your head, find a club loaded with hot people. 

Thankfully, Taehyung knows his way around town and the club he’s picked out is perfect. As soon as you both step in, the neon lights catch you off guard along with the hard base and the moving dance floor. 

Going out with Taehyung is fun, until he’s shoving his tongue down a guy’s throat. Apparently they met by the bar, and Taehyung being the flirt, persuaded the stranger easily. 

Sipping on your straw, you keep your eyes on a lookout for a potential hookup. Most are occupied, either sexting someone or having someone close by. The bartender in front of you notices the wearing frown that covers your face. 

“You okay?” 

The unrecognizable voice catches you off guard and when you set eyes on the bartender, your mouth tries not to drop. 

The bartender is wearing a tight black t-shirt, showcasing his pecs and built shoulders. His hair is long, pulled behind a snapback. He looks at you with a worried expression, holding onto the counter. 

“I’m okay.” You force a smile. 

“Come on, I can tell something is bothering you. I’m all ears.”

The offer is kind and just as you’re about to say no, he continues. 

“Listen, I couldn’t help but notice your friend making out with that guy for the past thirty minutes.” You turn around, Taehyung still going at it, and you roll your eyes over your colleague being better than you at getting some. 

“Yeah, he’s got more luck than myself.” You sigh, folding your arms over the counter, and the bartender cracks a laugh. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get lucky.” He winks and your body grows hot. 

“I’m giving it an hour, or else I’m leaving.” You crack, and the bartender raises his eyebrows. 

You watch as he walks to the far side of the bar and comes out front to stand right in front of you. He towers over you, and you have to lift your head to look into his eyes, watching as they darken. One of his hands snakes around to the small of your back as he pulls you towards him. Your chest is flushed against his own and now you can really feel the hardness of his pecs, and your mouth waters. He places his other hand around to the side of your neck, lowering himself closer to your face. His lips ghost over your ear, the skin making the slightest contact as he speaks.

“You don't need an hour.”

A shiver rakes through your body at the proposition.

“I don't even know your name,” you say with a hint of a giggle laced in your tone.

“The name's Namjoon.” You nod, tracing your finger on his broad shoulder while his eyes continue to explore every inch of you. 

“Y/N.”

His grip tightens on you, and before you get a chance to speak Namjoon beats you to it. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

It takes nothing more than for you to drag Namjoon home with you, leaving Taehyung and his hookup behind. 

Namjoon is so bold that you’re completely blown away by his confidence. He’s managed to make you wet before even reaching your apartment. His words only build up the intensity of the situation and when you finally reach the front door, you look back, Namjoon biting on his lip as he patiently waits. 

When the key is turned, you grab Namjoon by the collar of his bomber jacket as you push inside the apartment, until you reach your room. 

Namjoon doesn’t waste another minute, grabbing you once again by the waist to connect your lips in a needy and passionate kiss. It’s full of tongue, along with lip bites. You whine against them when the tip of his tongue coats your bottom lip as he mischievously smirks. 

Your hands tug on his neck, pulling him as close as you can, all while his hands slip under your shirt, and roam on your naked back. His hands are slightly cold, sending a shiver. With enough pulling on each other’s clothes in desperation, Namjoon is the first to pull away trying to catch his breath. 

“Take off your shirt.” You don’t hesitate to obey, tugging on your top in a hurry before it lands on your bedroom floor. 

Jeongguk had just finished a last minute task at work, realizing he had enough time for a game of Overwatch. He’s focused on aiming, fingers moving at a speed on the controller. Just as he’s about to reach a win, he hears the front door close. 

He removes his headset, in doubt if he should walk out and greet you, ask you about your night with Taehyung or stay, and play stubborn. The decision gets made for him, when he hears an unfamiliar voice coming from your room. 

Wait. 

Namjoon hovers over you, his hands wandering over your upper body, not missing one inch. His warm breath almost swallows you whole as you slowly spread your legs further beneath him. 

He catches the signal quickly, moving more downwards, letting his mouth trail wildly on your naked skin. He nips at it softly, before replacing it with a wet kiss. 

As he’s reached further down, Namjoon locks eyes with you, supporting both hands on your waist. 

“Can I eat you out?”

When Jeongguk hears the first moan from your room, he feels instant irritation. In reality, it’s not anything he can actually get mad about when not even twenty four hours ago, he was knees deep in a stranger. But something ticks in Jeongguk when he hears how someone else is making you moan like that. 

“Ah—Fuck!” Your grip tightens on Namjoon’s long dark hair, his tongue rolling over your clit in circles. 

Namjoon is making sure you feel every inch of pleasure, taking his time with his mouth and fingers. You’ve forgotten how great it feels, and Namjoon was definitely the right guy to bring home.

His mouth pushes further against your core, lapping his tongue wherever it can reach and your legs begin to shake under his touch. It’s been a while for you, so your body doesn’t hold you back any further from reaching climax.

Jeongguk has blocked out the sounds from your room with his headphones. The sounds from Overwatch are helping him hear only the gunshots and effects the game carries, yet the sounds don’t stop him from feeling a tinge of jealousy. He doesn’t want to admit it, too stubborn to do so. 

But the thought of someone making you come undone this second, settles itself as an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, and he grabs his controller more aggressively, frustration coursing through his veins. 

What are you doing to him?  

Time passes quickly, both you and Jeongguk distancing each other from one another. 

You barely throw a glance at one another. 

For example, yesterday when Jeongguk passed by the living room, you were sitting in silence as New Girl rolled in the background. He knows you could hear him passing, but you didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. 

Jeongguk wishes deep down that the action didn’t hurt him, but somehow it did and now he can’t be around you for his own well being. 

Which results in one month of barely any contact. 

Although, it changes the day Jeongguk has to go to a meeting. His boss was okay with him bringing So-ah as Ji-eun didn’t have time to pick her up for a few hours — and he surely didn’t want to ask you. 

So-ah behaves, zero disturbance caused to the meeting and Jeongguk lets her hold his pinky while his boss throws in the plan for the upcoming year. 

When the meeting ends, Jeongguk gets a lot of praise from his boss which flusters him as he leaves the building. 

“Ready to go home So-ah?” She responds with her mouth doing all kinds of noises. She’s slowly growing more, and Jeongguk is touched by how beautiful his daughter is becoming with each passing day. 

Going home doesn’t go as planned. You see, Jeongguk had always worked from home, due to his job consisting mostly of online work. So he barely leaves the apartment except for grocery shopping or to meet Jimin. Which is the reason behind his big mistake; forgetting his keys. 

It was a new system. The code for opening doors had been dropped after scam episodes had increased. Last month the whole residency got new locks along with a pair of keys. 

Jeongguk hates himself, because now there’s only one solution and he really doesn’t want to go there. 

When he pulls up by the kindergarten, Jeongguk mentally prays the interaction won’t be awkward. Not that it hasn’t been awkward the last month, but this is different. He’s about to enter your workplace for a goddamn key because his ass rushed out the apartment instead of being smart and double checking that he had everything before leaving in a hurry. 

You’re gonna hate him for this. 

He can already imagine the slight frown you’ll have, trying your best not to scold him harshly. 

It’s empty when Jeongguk walks in, So-ah sitting comfortably in the infant car seat, which Jeongguk holds onto tightly. 

“Hello?” He calls out, the hallway completely deserted. That’s until a man peeks his head out, raising both eyebrows. 

“Hi, can I help you?” He walks towards him, drying his hands in what seems to be a cloth. 

“Hi, yes. I’m looking for Y/N.” 

The man in front of him drops his mouth before it turns to a boxy grin. 

“Oh my god. Are you Jeongguk?” The face Jeongguk makes, proves the man’s assumption. 

“Taehyung? Could you come help me with—Jeongguk?” He turns to see you, your brows in a frown as he suspected. 

“Oh, you’re Taehyung?” Jeongguk completely ignores your confused state, too excited to meet the Kim Taehyung that his roommate is very fond of. 

“An honor.” Taehyung bows comically, and Jeongguk cracks a laugh from the action. Just as Taehyung is about to crouch down to say hello to the little one, you step further, meeting Jeongguk eye to eye. 

“Jeongguk? What are you doing here?” You ask. 

Taehyung ignores your question, greeting So-ah gently as Jeongguk explains to you the situation. He tries to make himself sound less stupid than he was in the situation, but you don’t seem to buy it. 

You sigh, crossing your arms. “How do you even forget a key?” 

Great, you’re starting a fight. 

“It just happened, now can I borrow yours so I can go home?” Jeongguk’s tone is a bit snappy, and you notice, quickly fuming on the inside. 

Taehyung notices the tension, sending a glance to So-ah that screams ‘am I seeing this too?’ So-ah starts giggling and Taehyung knows internally that she agrees with him. He loves her already. 

“Fine, just—Don’t let this happen again.” You say sternly, before walking away to grab your keys. 

“Trust me, it won’t.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes when your back turns. 

You aggressively shove the keys in Jeongguk’s hand, Taehyung still having a conversation with So-ah throwing funny glances, but neither you nor Jeongguk notice, too busy staring each other down. 

“Great.”

“Great!” Jeongguk responds more aggressively, saying a calm goodbye to Taehyung who excitedly waves to So-ah. 

And then he’s out of there faster than lighting. 

“Jesus, what crawled up your asses?” Taehyung asks, scoffing in disbelief. 

“Nothing. Now come help me with the outdoor tables.”

He doesn’t ask any further, seeing you really don’t want to talk about it at this moment. 

Jeongguk has already started to cook when you ring the doorbell. He opens, greeting you with the expression he left you with at work. 

You return the same energy, not speaking to him as you remove your coat. 

You’re about to walk into your bedroom to avoid Jeongguk when So-ah catches your attention in the living room, rolling around on her own and chewing on a toy. She’s too cute to ignore, so you decide to join her, sitting beside her as you squish her cheeks in a playful manner. 

“Look at you, you’ve grown so much.” 

You can’t believe you’ve been a witness to So-ah’s growth. She’s already able to grab onto things, rolling around and rocking back and forth which is a sign she’ll be able to crawl soon. 

As you continue to play with her, letting her explore and sing as she babbles all kinds of nonsense, Jeongguk turns to watch the scene. 

You’ve always been careful with So-ah, grasping her as your own and caring a lot for her. He’s noticed how So-ah barely cries anymore, being more calm in your presence. He could get used to this, watching you play with his daughter as he cooks for all three of you. He’s at peace, comfortable with everything in front of him and—

The realization hits Jeongguk. 

He doesn’t hate you.

You don’t remember the exact moment you realized you didn’t hate Jeongguk. It just… happened. 

One day you were in the kitchen and he walked past you, minding his own business and you didn’t have any urge to throw a remark. No, you felt at ease, letting your eyes admire him rather than watch him out of spite. 

Panic seeped through you when you looked at the overall situation. 

You don’t hate Jeongguk, you’ve thought about fucking h—shit. What does this mean? Do you… do you like him? 

That’s crazy, there’s no way you possibly like Jeongguk or even starting too, which is how you find yourself agreeing to go on yet another date with Han-bin. 

Last time hadn’t turned out that bad. The company was nice, you felt comfortable and yet something just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the gross experiences Han-bin wasn’t so afraid to share with you, or maybe… because he isn’t a certain someone. 

No. 

You’re going on that date. 

The moment you leave the apartment, Jeongguk is taking his afternoon nap with So-ah so you don’t bother notifying him where you’re going. There’s a certain ache in your heart the closer you are to the location picked out by Han-bin. 

Once again, it’s too fancy for your liking but Han-bin makes the environment comfortable with the company of his wild stories. They’re less gross this time and you find yourself laughing at a few of them. 

Time flies rather quickly with Han-bin’s company. 

If this weren’t a date, you’d be more at ease because Han-bin is a kind person. But dating him might be a stretch for yourself, seeing your mind keeps tracing back to your roommate who probably still hates your guts. 

“Hey, can I be honest with you?” Han-bin throws you off guard with his question, but you nod regardless. 

“I’ve had a great time hanging out with you but,” Han-bin looks at you with a genuine and soft smile, “I don’t really think there’s that spark you know?” 

“Spark?” 

Sure, you’ve dated a few people in the past but no one threw the word spark in the conversation. 

You’ve always found it to be a cliché, like every romantic comedy who makes the spark obvious from the beginning. The spark that messes with the main character and their love interest, them tumbling against it until they get in a fight or have to share the same bed, which results in them sharing a passionate kiss, and one of them magically proclaims the love they’ve always had for that person. 

That surely doesn’t exist in real life. 

“You know, the spark where you know that this person is much more to you. Someone who isn’t just a friend.” Han-bin says, his tone laced with hopefulness. 

It’s then you realize that Han-bin is a romantic, a person who believes in finding that special someone.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ll find that Han-bin. You’re a great guy.”

“Wait, you’re not angry?” 

It’s cute how scared he is to offend you. 

“No, no of course not. I see where you’re coming from.” 

Han-bin’s shoulders loosen at your words, feeling more at ease since he’s decided to throw it in the conversation. 

Before you depart your ways, you both come to an agreement of keeping in touch as friends.

Arriving late at the apartment, you move quietly by the entrance. 

As you’re reaching your bedroom, Jeongguk catches you off guard. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “You’re all good.’’ He doesn’t deny it and you feel a tinge of guilt, seeing the time is past midnight once again. 

You’re about to enter your bedroom door with a simple goodnight when Jeongguk catches you off guard with a question. 

“Hey, where were you?” Jeongguk is leaning against the wall, arms crossed which only showcase more of his prominent chest and his sleeve sneaking out of his loose t-shirt. 

“On a date.” You respond coldly, letting go of the handle. 

Jeongguk hums, mumbling something along the lines of, "Figured.’’ 

It throws you off, in a not so cute way. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

It’s almost as if he spoke in a tone for you to hear on purpose, and you’re falling into his trap. 

He shrugs lightly. "Nothing.’’ 

He’s about to turn around, wearing a smug smile when you continue, setting yourself up for whatever he’s trying to do. 

“Clearly it was something.”

“Not really.” His unbothered attitude sets you off like a grenade, and you’ve finally lost your cool with Jeon Jeongguk. 

“You know what? You drive me fucking nuts!” You don’t bother to care how much you’ve raised your voice. “You’re always pissing me off for no fucking reason!” Your face feels hot, the anger spilling out of you. 

Jeongguk scoffs, unfolding his arms and moving closer to you. 

“I pissed you off because you started this! With your fucking morning smoothie.” He isn’t helping with the noise, raising his voice as much as you. 

“That was one time. Do you need me to quote every time you’ve managed to throw me off?!” Your veins are straining against your neck, giving everything you have into your shouting. 

“Go ahead!”

“You took the rest of the milk. You spoiled the movie I was currently watching. You threw remarks whenever I did the slightest thing, and now? Now you’re commenting on my date!”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at your comment, not bothering to answer you. 

Yet you continue, because you’re fueling on the inside. 

“You have no rights, when you were fucking someone else!” 

You’ve given the signal that you were somehow affected by it, and Jeongguk quickly catches it. 

“You sound jealous.”

“I’m not.” You cross your arms, determined to not let him think otherwise. 

“Just admit it!” 

Your faces are mere inches apart, both panting at a rapid pace. The whole room is heated and you feel yourself sweat underneath your shirt from all the shouting. 

“Fuck you.” 

It’s barely a whisper. 

Neither of you move. Eyes are wandering on each other’s faces and that’s when you notice Jeongguk’s gaze dropping down to your lips. 

You’re seeing red, although your body feels heated as you move closer, Jeongguk’s breath melting into yours. 

Jeongguk studies your gaze before he moves closer, lips about to brush against yours. 

As you’re about to lean in yourself, So-ah starts crying next door, snapping the both of you out of your trance. 

“I– I better…” Jeongguk starts. 

“Y-yeah, go ahead.” You stutter, moving further away and when Jeongguk leaves the hallway, you breathe out. 

What the actual fuck.

The following days you avoid Jeongguk like the plague. You’ve never been more confused and irritated before. And yet, you can’t stop thinking about it. How close his face was, how his lips were about to seek yours until So-ah started to cry. 

Decisions need to be made. You can’t continue on like this. You need to talk to Jeongguk, without screaming at him and wanting to rip his face off. 

As you’re laying under the covers, your thoughts are spiraling around you. You’re contemplating if you should ask him to talk now because your mind won’t let you rest if you don’t. 

Fuck it. 

You get up in a hurry, walking in a straight line directly to Jeongguk’s room. After a few minutes of just staring Jeongguk’s door down, your body gives in, knocking on his door calmly. 

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see you. 

“Hey.”

“Hi, can we talk? No fighting, just talk.”

Jeongguk nods, grabbing a hoodie by his desk. 

Jeongguk doesn’t want to wake up So-ah, so you sit outside, with a cup of tea. It was your idea. Somehow tea always managed to calm down your nerves, and if you wanted to withhold your promise to not fight, you needed to drink some of it along the way. 

“What did you wanna talk about?” He sounds nervous, and your mind re-directs you back to when the both of you were about to kiss in the heat of the moment. 

Instead of bringing that onto the table, you want to ask Jeongguk some things that have never left your mind since you moved in. 

“It’s more of a question.” You make it clear and Jeongguk turns his head, nodding for you to continue. 

“What happened? Why is it only you and So-ah?”

Jeongguk lets your question sink in. He’s uncertain if he wants to talk about it, or rather with you. It has somehow been easier for him to distance himself, push you away as much as he could, but that isn’t enough. 

You’re still here, sitting next to him as you admire the stars while awaiting his answer. 

The silence overflows, the wind curving itself as a comfort blanket around you both as you admire the small lights peaking out in the city. 

Jeongguk has always been scared of your curious gaze, yet now, it makes sense for him to tell you everything, let his shield down and give you everything that’s needed for you to understand him completely. 

It’s what is needed for you to stop fighting and stepping on each other for no reason. 

“Her name was Seul-ki.” 

You turn, surprised he’s answering your question but you stay quiet, letting Jeongguk speak. 

“She was always selfish. I should’ve known better.” Jeongguk trails his finger against the mug, images of her flooding his mind. 

He looks up, meeting your eyes and you smile softly at him. The smile brings an unwanted comfort, but it helps Jeongguk to go through with answering your question fully.

“So-ah was around one month old when Seul-ki got a huge opportunity for her career. She didn’t hesitate to take the chance. But with So-ah, it made it difficult for her to go through with it, so she wanted to give So-ah up for adoption and I just—” Jeongguk takes a deep breath, slightly beginning to tremble. 

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her do it.” Jeongguk’s hand trembles against the mug, keeping his emotions locked in, even though they’re close to breaking out. 

“So, she left us.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you.” You’re trying your best not to hold him for comfort, knowing he isn’t exactly fond of you. But something aches in you when you see the tremble he’s currently carrying and how his voice has turned broken. 

“Yeah.” He’s in doubt of what to say. But something in him continues, letting his inner thoughts win him over. Every frustration, pain and heartbreaking moments he’s felt since Seul-ki left. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I have made the right choice. In the beginning So-ah would cry constantly, she’d be distressed and I couldn’t help because I’m not her mother. Sometimes you just need both of your parents and she—she hasn’t…” 

“Jeongguk.” 

Your warm hand lands on his, catching him off guard. 

“You’re an amazing dad. So-ah doesn’t need anyone else. You’re all she needs.” Your voice is soothing, melting him softly. He believes every word, trusting you much more than he had anticipated, and with the hopeful eyes you’re giving him, he knows he’ll be okay. 

So-ah and him will be okay, without Seul-ki. 

“Thank you.” Jeongguk smiles, the first genuine smile he’s given you since you moved in. 

You stay in place, letting the silence sink in between you as the cold wind flows. 

The starry night is beautiful, alive even. Sparkling and twinkling above you, reminding you of the beauty behind this earth. As you admire the details, Jeongguk looks at you, his heart healing the longer he does and he never wants to let go of this moment.

Everything becomes easier. 

You and Jeongguk don’t fight anymore, instead you talk and grow closer as time passes. 

You’re still looking for a new apartment, even though the tension has eased down. 

A plan is a plan. 

Whenever you bring up the apartment search into a conversation between Jeongguk and you, his demeanor changes quickly and he immediately shuts himself off. Here you were, thinking he’d be happy that you’re withholding your deal, not irritated. 

Instead of letting it get to you, you continue to hang out with Ash and Lucca. 

“So, Han-bin was a bad idea.” Ash repeats as you’ve told her how the two dates went. 

“I already called it the moment you recommended that idea. Like it was the best plan you’ve ever had.” Lucca intervenes, crossing their arms. Ash rolls her eyes at her partner, too embarrassed that they might’ve been right. 

“But, Ash was right. Han-bin is a sweet guy.” You say to hopefully cheer up your friend who’s about to mop in a corner. “We even decided to stay friends.” 

With that, Ash excitedly cheers, and it’s probably because she’s a firm believer in friends to lovers and that it’s the most realistic trope there is out there, meaning she thinks in two three months you’ll finally have a spark with Han-bin. 

“How’s the apartment search going?” Lucca directs the conversation somewhere else, mostly to cool down Ash who’s probably planning a Pinterest wedding board for you and Han-bin in the future. 

“It’s going, I think I found a place.”

The supermarket isn’t as crowded as Jeongguk anticipated when he came to the conclusion at the last minute that groceries were needed.  

So-ah is clutched tightly onto him, due to the baby sling that Jeongguk had mastered the older So-ah got. With her head squished under his chin, Jeongguk walks freely, collecting the products at a slow pace. 

“Jeongguk?” His eyes avert to the sound, catching Taehyung waving at him. 

As Taehyung moves closer, Jeongguk places down the item to greet him properly. 

“Hi, So-ah.” 

Jeongguk turns so Taehyung can get a better look at her, her eyes turning wide when she sees him. 

“She likes you.” Jeongguk notices, and Taehyung squishes her cheek carefully. 

“The feeling is mutual.” He cracks a smile. “How’ve you been? Last time I saw you, you and Y/N were about to bite each other’s faces off.” 

The tone indicates he’s joking, although still curious as to how the relationship stands between the two. 

“It’s… It’s better.” 

It actually is, and Jeongguk’s lips curl into a smile with the memory of your conversation. 

“That’s great to hear. She’s been super stressed with finding an apartment.” 

The information throws Jeongguk off guard. Are you that desperate to leave? Right after he opened up to you? 

Taehyung quickly catches how Jeongguk’s eyes turn downward, his jaw clenching. He’s uncertain if he should point it out, or leave it as it is. 

Thankfully, he gets saved by a call. 

“Hey, sorry my brother’s calling me. I’ll see you around?” Jeongguk nods, and Taehyung softly says goodbye to So-ah before leaving with his phone by the ear. 

The uncomfortable pit never leaves Jeongguk’s stomach after his run-in with Taehyung. He knows that there isn’t much time left, and you had made him the promise to leave the moment it hits six months but now? Now Jeongguk isn’t so sure if he even wants you to leave.

The last few weeks are spent on apartment hunting. You’re barely home, too busy with open houses after work and on the weekends. It’s an easy distraction from your repressed feelings towards Jeongguk, and it’s exactly what you need. Sooner or later you’ll leave your roommates and start over on your own. 

Jeongguk has an urge to tell you how he feels, how angry he is that you’re leaving but you keep missing each other. 

Whenever he passes by your room, he’s close to doing it but then you’re in a hurry to reach the next open house. 

If he hadn’t felt anything for you, he’d be extremely grateful that you’re doing all of this. You actually kept your promise and made yourself trustworthy. 

But, the clock is ticking and Jeongguk is running out of time. He needs to do something, fast.  

The weekend rolls around, and Jimin comes to pick up So-ah for the night. 

“I owe you big time. Thank you.” He hands Jimin an overnight bag, with everything he needs to take care of So-ah. 

“Don’t mess this up Jeongguk.” He gives a warning and Jeongguk’s palms start to sweat. 

“I won’t.” Jimin leaves quickly after, leaving Jeongguk alone with his thoughts. 

Work runs smoothly, Taehyung and you having fun with the children throughout the day but as soon as the golden sunset comes to view, you’re excited to go home. 

Home. 

Soon that home will turn into a different place and it makes your heart drop by the thought. You’ll miss Jeongguk, with his crazy and annoying remarks. You’ll miss So-ah, her galaxy eyes and her curiosity. 

But nothing lasts forever. 

The apartment feels empty when you walk in. 

You don’t hear So-ah or Jeongguk’s Overwatch that he always forgets to turn off. 

When you move to the living room, Jeongguk is sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing at a quick pace. 

“Jeongguk?” His head snaps up. 

“Y/N, hi.” He gets up, moving closer to you. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hasn’t stopped rubbing his palm on his neck, a nervous habit you’ve quickly caught onto while living with Jeongguk. 

“I’m fine. I need to say something.” His voice is stern and you quickly step back, nodding. 

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

Your heart stops at his words. 

“What? Why?” 

Jeongguk steps closer, his breathing uneven as he studies your face. “B-because…” 

The nervous stuttering doesn’t stop and Jeongguk closes his eyes for a moment. 

“Because I–”

Jeongguk doesn’t continue his sentence, pulling you closer by the waist before he lets his lips glide above yours. His lips feel soft, and your breath hitches subtly right as he presses them down to yours. 

The kiss is short, Jeongguk pulling away just before you have a chance to act upon it yourself. 

“That’s why.” Jeongguk doesn’t let his arm fall from your waist, still holding onto you tight. 

You don’t respond, instead your hand moves upwards, resting it by his cheek. Jeongguk gulps by your action, leaning into your hand for more comfort and you smile softly at him. 

“I won’t leave.” You confirm and Jeongguk’s body loosens, melting against yours as he reconnects your lips in yet another kiss. 

You clutch yourself to him, as your lips move in sync, giving each other every comfort needed. 

Neither of you move away, letting the kiss grow heated. When Jeongguk slips his tongue past your lips, you’re almost drowning in his touch. He’s careful, teasing you along the way while giving you a taste of himself. You’re just about to pull him further in when he stops, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want to—”

“Stop? No.” You hover your lips above his, before you whisper. “Please, don’t stop.”

You’ve waited too long for this, and now that you finally have Jeongguk you don’t ever want this moment to end. 

Jeongguk’s demeanor changes completely, his softness somehow disappearing and an ache begins to grow between your legs on what’s to come. 

He turns you both around, pushing you down on the sofa. Jeongguk continues to kiss you, his hand wandering on your breasts, before it drags further down, grabbing your thigh softly. 

You offer to touch him everywhere, starting by his back. Your hands slip through his t-shirt to roam on the naked skin. It feels delicate against your palm the further you drag it upwards to his nape. 

Jeongguk’s breathing changes due to your touch, his lips moving further down, reaching your neck. His tongue traces patterns, letting you feel the wet sensation while your hold on Jeongguk tightens. 

It doesn’t exactly click for you that Jeongguk is hovering above you, giving you his time with his tongue on your neck. And it only excites you more that it’s finally happening. 

“Jeongguk.” You murmur under your breath, bucking your hips forward in hopes of grazing yourself against his bulge. 

He groans against your neck at your neediness, giving you a small bite which makes you gasp. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” He says softly, his words trail gently on your skin, and you smile from the confirmation he just gave you. 

When he reaches your waistband, you grab ahold of his cheek. 

“What are you doing?” It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you do. You haven’t thought about anything else for the past three months of living with Jeongguk but you’re nervous. 

“Let me make you feel good. Can I?”

You gulp, nodding nervously, letting him have his way with you. 

Jeongguk doesn’t even struggle when he takes off your pants, removing them perfectly and it almost makes you crack up at how ideal it was. 

Your grin is exchanged with a frown of pleasure when Jeongguk traces his fingers on the fabric of your thong. He’s making you work for it and frankly, you don’t mind. 

The pad of his fingers press down on your clit, making your breath hitch by the sensation. You feel everything yet nothing and it makes your body buck into his hand. Jeongguk smirks by the sudden action, continuing to tease you with his fingers until you’ll plead. 

The touching continues, a few presses once in a while making you hiss. He hasn’t dared to move beneath the fabric and your patience is running on a thin thread. 

Without thinking further, you grab ahold of his wrist. You’re done with his teasing. It’s unfair that he’s here, taking his time with you when you’ve both been longing for this exact moment. 

“Jeon Jeongguk.” He grins at the use of his full name and you want to throw a fit. 

“I’ll stop, I promise.” He pecks your lips, and considering you trust him, you let go of his wrist. 

Some things truly never change. 

He keeps his word, removing the fabric instead of teasing you further. The cool air hits your core, making you shudder before Jeongguk can continue. His palm keeps itself rested on your thigh, while his tattooed hand comes in contact with your slit. 

The first few strokes are slow, collecting some of your arousal and spreading it all over. Jeongguk’s mouth is agape, eyes heavy as he watches your exposed heat and his fingers decorating it with slow movements. 

“Fuck, baby.” Jeongguk breathes out, stunned to have you like this. 

The pet name causes your cheeks to heat up, flustered by such. 

No warnings, and Jeongguk inserts both fingers slowly, stretching you with ease. The feeling causes you to moan, as you’re too entranced by the pleasure. 

There’s something about the way Jeongguk works with his fingers that almost sends you into orbit. The way he gently curls them, making them pet on your g-spot whenever he manages to get his fingers all the way inside. The way his thumb traces circles on your clit, increasing the feelings evoking. 

When you begin to feel overwhelmed, you grab onto Jeongguk’s forearm, pressing down. Jeongguk is even more determined to make you come, maintaining the same pace. 

You feel the familiar pit in your stomach, forming as time passes. Although, Jeongguk has a lot more on his sleeve than just touching you. 

Being too focused on the thrill of the situation, you don’t notice Jeongguk crouching down. It’s first when he replaces his thumb with his tongue that you’re aware of what he’s doing. Your legs are shaking beside him, feeling yourself get much closer and Jeongguk wants nothing more than to taste you. 

To his luck, your body shudders followed by a high pitched moan as you finish. Jeongguk pecks your clit, before moving upwards to face you. Your breathing is uneven, your whole body warm and you’re smiling softly at him.  

When Jeongguk pecks your lips, you take him by surprise, grabbing onto his cock through the material. He groans against your lips, astonished by your bold move. You don’t stop, pumping him while your tongues consume one another. 

Jeongguk is already hard. He’s been ever since you laid beneath him, spreading your legs out for him. Even though Jeongguk is enjoying your touch, he’s impatient. 

“Stay here.” Before you can even question anything, Jeongguk runs out directly to his room. He quickly returns, with a condom in hand. When he’s about to lay down, you push both of his shoulders, making him land in an upright position. 

You straddle him, wrapping both arms around his neck. “Come on big boy, show me what you got.” Maybe you’re saying this because you know Jeongguk will absolutely fall into your trap and amaze you. 

“I’ll show you.” His gaze is intense, yet he’s already fiddling with his pants, desperate to get them off. You aren’t exactly helping, grinding down on the material of his pants, which gets him distracted. 

“Y/N, please.” You’re suppressing a smile, commanding either way and lifting your hips to help him get his pants off quicker. You aren’t exactly better yourself, wanting nothing more than for Jeongguk to fuck you. 

Jeongguk is quick on his feet, rolling the condom with ease before gently pressing into you. Your knees sink further down, inviting more of him in and the unfamiliar stretch feels pleasant. When your knees have sunk fully down, you take a moment to adapt. 

“Shit.” Jeongguk moans, mind spinning at how nicely you wrap around him. 

You start bucking your hips, a hiss leaving your mouth as you ride him tenderly. 

“Fucking hell,” Jeongguk curses, his eyes now roaming your body and how smoothly you move above him. He takes the chance of grabbing your ass tightly, making you jerk your hips out of the sudden control Jeongguk is regaining. 

His eyes avert downwards, watching how your bodies dissolve and how he disappears inside of you. 

The movement of your hips slow down, your body still processing your orgasm from earlier which had somewhat made you exhausted. 

Jeongguk helps you, grabbing onto your hips, leaving you to sit still while he bucks his hips at a much faster pace. Your moans are clogged, too stunned to process the feeling of his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly. 

“Fuck—” You breathe out, clutching yourself onto Jeongguk who isn’t slowing down. He’s surely showing you everything he’s got and you’re already close. 

With no warning, you tense above him, your orgasm washing over you, filling your body with warmth. Jeongguk follows soon after, giving one last thrust as he moans against your neck. 

The both of you stay put, trying to regulate your breathing. “Was that good enough for you?” Jeongguk asks between pants and you slap him lightly on the shoulder, because he knows it was better than good enough.

“Oh my god! Jeongguk hurry!” You scream excitedly, still holding onto So-ah who’s standing on two feet, ready to take her first step. 

“Don’t let her walk!” Jeongguk screams from the bathroom, finishing up his shower after his workout from earlier. You roll your eyes, holding tightly onto So-ah who’s trying to move out of your grasp to walk. 

Jeongguk runs out quickly not long after, in only a towel because moments like these are rare and there’s no way he’s about to miss out on his daughter walking for the first time. 

“Okay, come here So-ah.” Jeongguk kneels, spreading his arms open for his daughter and she screams softly, wobbling towards her dad but managing two steps in before Jeongguk has to sweep her in. 

You clap excitedly at So-ah having taken her first step and you catch Jeongguk’s eyes watering. 

“So-ah, you did it.” Jeongguk kisses her on the cheek. 

Moments like these are only the beginning for the three of you, and you’re thrilled. 

[angelltheninth]

no thoughts just silco fucking u while smoking a cigar in his office

Took all of my brain power to write this, thinking of it was too much.

Pairing: Silco x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, office sex, dirty talk, name calling, praise, degradation, smoking, kissing, shotgun smoking, dick riding, neck kisses, cock milking, encouragement

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: He was so damn hot, such a shame we only had him for one season and like 5 minutes in the second season.

Silco's office was a place where many dreaded to go, the fear of the man himself, the power he had in Zaun, the people he surrounded himself with were all more than enough to strike fear into anyone. That's why when he said not to be disturbed no one ever dreamed of barging to his office.

Meaning that you had no fear of being interrupted and absolutely no problem as settled into his lap and let him pound his cock into you.

"No shame in your body is there, darling? Not in moments like these anyway. Lift that dress, I want a nice view." Your smirk matched his as you lifted your dress a bit over your bare tits and let him watch his cock, wet and hard, go in and out of your tight hole.

Silco leaned back and exhaled, a thick cloud of sweet smelling smoke vanishing in the air.

"I know you preferer these." He explained before putting the cigar back to his lips.

"How generous of you, sir. Going out of your way to accommodate me. Admit it, you have a bit of a soft spot for me." You teased and leaned in close to him, your hips bucking against his and putting a bit more pressure on his full balls.

Silco scoffed and slowly blew the smoke in your face, the sweet scent making you dizzy and causing your body, and pussy, to tense up.

"Sorry to disappoint but you're no different than any other whore I pay to take my cock. A bit more agreeable maybe, you don't ask questions, you get things done." When he saw how you smirked and began kissing his neck he groaned, a little annoyed that you saw a crack in his armor. "Enough. I have a meeting soon." Silco inhaled once more before he threw the cigar away and grabbed you by the back of your neck and crashed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss.

You didn't know if it was the pleasure of his cock fucking you with brute force, or the warm smoke that filled your lungs, but you felt yourself go almost limp on top of him. "It's safe today." You whimpered against his lips.

Silco hummed, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips before he pushed you all the way down on his pulsing dick and held you close as your pussy took every drop of his cum. Jet after jet of thick seed filled you and dripped to the floor beneath you.

"Hmh. If we had more time I'd order you to lick that up. Right now I need you to... hey, are you awake?" Silco shook you a little but you were passed out, the combination of whatever he smoked and the orgasm knocking you out on top of him. "Oh great." You didn't know he cleaned you up, dressed you back up, and carried you to a small spare room with a couch. "It's a good think I like you."

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 4: close to you | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, a lot of yearning :P, chapter specific: SMUT, unprotected piv, creampie (sorry), fingering,

a/n: thank you guys for your responses on the poll! this one is more than double the average length of the other chapters (~8k) and i plan to keep that convention from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one >:)

main masterlist

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

it is a funny feeling, YOU find, making your life new with a thing so familiar. to open your door so often and find satoru standing there, letting him bring food and splaying himself on your couch, walking with him in the heavy mist at dusk, it fills your lungs like smoke, the nostalgia thick and cloying. you remember all of it, it comes back to you embalmed.  

but the differences between now and your time together in high school demand your attention in equal measure. your son, for one: though it’s impossible to find the sight of him with his father unnatural given how obvious their relation is. with their backs turned they move the same, too, something between them irrevocably tied. you had forgotten the way satoru wrought blades of grass between his fingers when he laid in it until you had to clean both their palms of chlorophyll.

nonetheless your affection for satoru is much more hulking a thing than it ever was, supplanted by the tangible aftermath of the ways you used to love him. when takara lets him pick him up, grips to his collar as satoru balances him on his hip, you are defenseless. the softest parts of you win out. 

still, neither you nor satoru make any attempt to name the arrangement you’ve come upon. he is resolutely your child’s father and has stepped into that role with grace, and there are artifacts of your intimacy—his hand on your lower back, brushing your hair from your shoulder blades, an almost kiss, once—but mostly you let the joy of your child consume your time. 

and it shouldn’t bother you. you remember feeling so certain in high school that letting him fuck you was enough, that to love him quietly was a privilege. you suppose you still mostly believe that. but there are moments when takara is asleep and satoru lingers in your kitchen, and the want flares bright then. you are at a loss watching him leave with that look on his face, like he’s afraid you’ll ask him to stay and terrified you’ll let him leave. you sometimes wait a moment before locking the door behind him.

jujutsu tech stands like a graveyard around you, so full of memory the buildings almost sag. you haven’t been back here since the night takara came to you.

“oi!” satoru bellows from across the courtyard, hand high and wagging. 

takara holds a grip on your pant leg, one blue eye peeking out. you feel him loosen a little when he sees his dad, and then refasten when megumi and tsumiki emerge behind him. 

when satoru first suggested you both come to meet them you had hesitated. you were honest; there was something final about this last introduction. there would be nothing else left for each of you to keep separate from the other, your lives entirely reconnected. satoru had laughed at you in that way that makes your heart turn, and that sound was all it took for you—weak to him—to agree.

satoru comes rushing to takara, scooping him from behind you and holding him to his side. takara screeches, half afraid and half delighted. tsumiki walks to you without hesitation, little hand held out for you to shake. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” she says. her smile is soft, a little secret, but you can tell she is pleased with herself for her manners. you smile back.

“it’s nice to meet you, too.” 

she looks up at takara in satoru’s arms and waves. takara is frozen, too shy to move, so satoru takes his chubby wrist and waves it a little. tsumiki giggles. “they’re like twins.”

you lean in a little conspiratorially. “i know. i carried him for nine months and have nothing to show for it.”

she giggles behind her hand before turning to her brother. “don’t be rude,” she admonishes.

megumi cannot hear her, it seems. he’s watching takara paw at satoru’s shirt, turning in his hold as gojo points to the various buildings to explain what they are. to himself, or maybe to you, megumi whispers: “it’s so freaky.”

tsumiki scoffs lightly and goes to elbow him but you can only laugh again, louder this time. he may not be related to satoru but he was certainly raised by him. “you are exactly as satoru described,” you admit.

megumi furrows his brows and crosses his arms. yes, so furious, satoru had said once. “how exactly did he describe me?”

“as a little shit,” satoru offers, one palm now cupped over takara’s ear. megumi’s mouth falls open a moment before making a fist with each hand and bringing them in front of him. satoru only rolls his eyes and uses his knee to knock his arms out of place. megumi practically growls something about i’m really gonna do it someday and tsumiki taunts back at him: you’re such a liar!

oh, but that look on satoru’s face, he is so pleased. his eyes squint with it, you can almost see the satisfied breathing of his cursed energy, satoru is happy. it makes you beam at him and his breath catches when he sees it. 

takara wriggles out of his grip and stations himself at your legs again, but doesn’t hide this time. tsumiki is completely enamored, cooing again, “hi, takara!”

takara sucks in a little breath. “hello.”

tsumiki claps her hands together and looks up at you and gojo. “can we show him around? please?”

“what is there to show?” satoru asks.

“the training room, our old bedrooms, the koi fish—”

your eyes widen. satoru’s gaze flits to you, frantic, and you smirk, the tiniest thing. the koi fish? you mouth. satoru’s cheeks flush pink as he shakes his head slightly, but the damage is done, he knows. tsumiki is still listing menial places across campus.

you squeeze takara’s shoulder. “what do you think, bubba?” he looks at you, owlish, and then at tsumiki, before nodding. she takes his hand with a pleased squeal and the three putter off together.

satoru stands boyish before you as you straighten again. he tends to keep his blindfold off around takara—whether to keep from frightening him or for a more profound reason you don’t know—but he is bared to you without it. he knows exactly what you’ll say, lifting a hand as he turns and starts towards his office: “don’t.”

you skip to catch up with him. “oh, no, i think i have to.”

“i’m just a friend to nature.”

you howl. “you’re just as dishonest as you always were.”

he doesn’t dignify that with a response, pushing into his office and letting you inside. the walls are a dark wood, mostly bare save for the few bookshelves bloated with old novels and records and manila folders. a handful of pens scatter across the desk, like he’d needed to finish a sentence urgently before standing. there’s a record player on the windowsill, fuzzy with dust but clean in places around the arm. it looks like he’d used it recently for the first time in years. most of all it smells like him, mint and cedar and sugar, and you almost double over sick with it. 

satoru settles into his chair as you trace a finger along the spines of his books, his eyes igniting your back but you refuse to turn, you want him to watch. “you’ve done a great job with them,” you admit.

“you think so?”

you just barely twist your head over your shoulder to show him the sincerity on your face. “of course i do.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “they seem to like takara.”

you turn fully now to lean your back on the shelf. “everyone likes takara.”

he chuckles, fond. “yeah, i guess so.”

the sounds of this place are so startlingly the same, you think. the serenity is strange and charged, but nonetheless campus was always quiet enough to hear the wind through the leaves. you hear it now as you flip through mission files and reports: special grade, special grade, grade one, special grade, suguru geto. you put them down.

“is it weird to be back?”

you nod, gesturing around the room. “i’ll admit i was hoping for more of a welcome. is nobody else here?”

“yeah, i asked them to give us the afternoon so takara wouldn’t be overwhelmed for his first time.”

you pout, mainly to bare your lip to him but there is truth in it, too. “nobody wanted to see me?”

satoru shakes his head. “i wanted you all to myself,” he admits. and it’s teasing, easy, he says it like it doesn’t cost him anything, but you know he is like you: he almost never says something he doesn’t mean.

“how did they react when you told them?”

“that i have a son? kept a secret by his villainous mother?”

your eyes narrow but you’re grinning as you respond: “yeah.”

he cocks his head and kisses his teeth. “yaga said he was disappointed in you.”

“for leaving?”

“no, for letting me…” he smiles, wolfish for a second before it fades into something friendlier, “for giving me the opportunity.” you laugh, a bark of a sound, halfway humiliated. you nod him on. “and shoko was the one who found you, so, there wasn’t anyone else to tell.”

your hand finds your arm and you squeeze your bicep once, twice, swallowing around the tragedy in his confession: that all the people you used to know here are gone somehow. you hadn’t visited haibara’s grave since you left; nanami helped you lug a stone out by the stream and you grew flowers around the base, yellow pansies and red carnations. you remember kento pointing to them in a flower language book so you could conjure them properly, remember the promise you made not to tell a soul what they meant. 

the memory must show on your face, because satoru says then, “i still water those flowers you made by haibara’s grave.”

you smile at him, watery and real. you add on, “and feed my fish,” and he laughs like a surrender. 

you move to the record player just behind him and he swivels his chair to follow you. something seizes in your belly at the feeling of him scrutinizing you, the weight of his looking a leaden thing against your skin. you thumb through the few vinyls resting in the window before stopping on one. the words stick to your teeth like honey but you spit them as best you can: “this is mine.”

you hear satoru stand and look over your shoulder. frank sinatra’s close to you: the sleeve is long stained and yellowed, waterlogged in one corner, but the record inside is pristine. 

you remember the first time your grandmother taught you how to play her gramophone. her hands guided your smaller ones across the pavilion, down to the plateau; it was old and rusted, even then, something she’d bought second hand as a girl. but she had collected hundreds of records, they made piles throughout her home, and every afternoon you selected one to play. close to you was her gift to you when you entered jujutsu tech.

of course, you never had a record player. all three years it sat unused on your desk, a remembrance, still smelling like the tatami from her living room. she had told you once that sinatra taught her how to speak english, which you mostly believed; her english vowels opened with the syrup of the american east-coast, and she held each word a moment too long, like it took a great deal of effort not to sing them. 

you run your knuckles along the sleeve, feeling the still-familiar places where the gloss has faded and the paper catches. you hardly notice how close to your back satoru has drifted until he reaches around you to remove the record and situate it on the player. you freeze, his looming figure warm around you, his arms brushing your shoulders as he fiddles with the tone arm. you hope he can’t feel your heartbeat through your spine, but it rushes so deafening in your ears you cannot discern either way.

it could happen to you crackles to life from the speaker and you feel like you’ve been swallowed by space, on the cusp of a wrinkle. you wonder whether time has really suspended around you or if it’s only this, this song and this man at your back. your breathing is uneven and satoru does not step back, head craned a little to bring his chin closer to your shoulder. 

slowly, almost self-consciously, he braces each hand on the sides of the windowsill, keeping you surrounded. 

“it’s been so long since i’ve heard this song,” you whisper. the melody chimes and swings around the violin and you cannot help but tilt your head back a little into satoru’s chest, overcome with the ghost of the music as it hangs above you. satoru lets your weight lean slightly into him, unmoving.

“i hope it’s okay that i took it.” his voice rumbles through your bones before you hear it. you nod and it scrapes against his sternum. the friction stirs something in him, you think, because then he’s bringing a hand to your stomach, fingers long and splayed across your entire torso, and he rests his cheek fully on the back of your head. it would almost look like you were dancing if you began to move, but neither of you seem willing to risk it.

“do you ever wonder what it would have been like?”

you don’t need him to clarify. “all the time,” you confess. the sun moves behind the clouds outside, and you catch a moment of the both of you in the reflection. 

his hand tightens around your middle, holding you against him. the song threatens to end but he keeps his arm banded around you. “are we friends now?”

you laugh softly. “i honestly don’t know.”

he nods before bringing his other hand to your chin. he spreads the pads of his fingers, feeling the shape of your jaw, looking for something, for you. “would you let me kiss you, if i asked?”

“yes,” you say, but it comes out more breathless than you intend. your thighs press together and you’re sure he notices with how his hips cage you in, but he only hums, removing the hand around your chin. 

“it’s a bad idea,” he breathes, but still his nose brushes at the juncture of your neck and your shoulder. you shudder and nod. it is. 

and despite how badly you want him, you do not turn and demand it. it’s so precarious now, and with satoru in takara’s orbit you cannot run again, a chain fastened from your rib to his. you know fucking him would be a reckless idea now, but god, he presses one, slow kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder and your body remembers him. his hips press just slightly further into your ass as he sighs onto the same spot, his breath cooling the heat of his lips where they branded you, his cock alive and right there. but the both of you know it: you are cowards. he untangles himself, and you let him sit back in his chair before moving.

~~~~~~~

SATORU is certain now; you are going to kill him. his grave will be beautiful, he thinks, flowery and green and alive with your energy, but his autopsy will have your name all over it, your lipstick.

he supposes, for his part, that much of your proximity is his fault. a stronger man wouldn’t have stayed in your apartment past takara’s waking hours, used his hands to guide you on the sidewalk, held your hips to his cock in his office windowsill earlier today. and satoru has lived a life of self restraint, has been a shackled man to his own whipping post, but he has found himself helpless to the feeling of your body on his skin.

he had been so irreparably hurt when he saw you in the park that day, or at least it had felt that way at the time. something grew in him then, a tumor with teeth, and he was certain it could never feel the same with you as it once had, that he would withhold something precious from you forever in some lasting spiteful act of defiance. and nevermind the fact that even hours later he moved to hold you, could barely restrain the instinct to kiss you again, was never even angry: for about 24 hours, satoru was sure that he would never be in love with you again.

but even the sharp canines of that wound have dulled with weeks of your presence. the smell of you on your couch when he lays on it, the afternoon scenery of you playing with takara in the park curtained by your vines, your laugh in his office, by your door, in his head. you are an apparition haunting him, one he can touch, and it’s killing him. 

and he knows he should not pursue anything with you. he knows you know this, too. your nebulous reconnection is unsteady at best—a strange amalgam of your old intimacy and the people you’ve become—and access to takara is too important to him to risk. and neither of you would say this, but the fact of your leaving in high school remains a reminder that at any moment you are capable of disappearing again. it’s something satoru always loved about you, actually. you make your own life wherever you step. what a beautiful thing you are. 

he feels ridiculous for thinking of you as often as he does. but how could he not? he visits at least daily to spend time with his son and you are always there, a vision. he sees you in takara, too, his little love. when he tries to explain how to use limitless, takara bears down into himself, thinking to the point of exhaustion. he has gotten that from you, satoru knows.

but it wasn’t a conscious thought that satoru has begun falling back into love with you—or, really, that he has plummeted into the well of it—until today, seeing you laugh with megumi . tsumiki had pointed at you from behind your back: she’s so pretty! and he had nodded without thought, proud as if you were his to boast for. and then, your teasing voice nipping at his heels as he brought you to his office, he realized that he was yours. he should have known some time in the thousand minutes he’s spent feeding your koi.

the smell of your cooking wafts into your living room as he reads to takara on his lap. you’re humming that song from earlier, it could happen to you, and the domesticity makes him beam like an idiot. yes, he thinks, that’s about the most succinct way to put it; he is an idiot for you. takara points to the page and reads a sentence himself.

“yes!” satoru encourages.

“don’t yell,” takara says, patting satoru’s leg as though he’d worked himself up.

“yessir.”

“come in to eat!” you call from the kitchen. takara scrambles to the sound of your voice and satoru is no better. the three of you settle to the table, takara’s legs dangling in his chair, and satoru knows he shouldn’t but he presses his foot to yours under the table. you give him a look, fleeting and knowing, but you don’t move. takara eats exactly the way you do, and satoru wonders whether you’ve noticed.

“what time do you go into work tomorrow?”

“i’m opening, actually, so i’ll head to the cafe early,” you grumble. “i’ll take my lunch break at 8 to take takara to preschool.” 

satoru shakes his head. “i don’t have any missions until the afternoon. why don’t i take him?”

“i don’t have an extra key for you.”

“he could sleep over,” takara offers, barely looking up from his food. you look startled by the suggestion, at first, and satoru is sure he looks much the same, but when the shock subsides he cannot help the little grin that tugs his lips up. you cock your head minutely, but he’s known you long enough to know you mean: don’t push it. 

“bubba, there isn’t enough space,” you explain. 

you had told satoru early on that you started in a one bedroom, fixed a nursery in most of it and fit yourself on a twin bed in the corner. when the owner of the cafe retired, though, she had let you have the place. you made enough now to scrape by with two bedrooms; satoru remembers how dignified you were to recount the whole thing, how hard it was not to kiss you when you smiled in your own self-satisfaction. 

“why can’t he sleep in your room?” takara asks. satoru smiles bigger, nudges your foot under the table. 

“because he…can’t.” you’re becoming flustered now and it only thrills him more.

“i really would like to take him,” he offers, though the sincerity is cut with the sound of his smirk.

you run your hands over your face, mumble out a little groan that softens into a hum at the end, but still your foot doesn’t move away from the press of satoru’s under the shadow of the kitchen table. 

“don’t you need to get home to megumi and tsumiki?”

satoru is beaming like he’s already won. he has. “they have a sitter.”

your head tips back as you say, mostly to the ceiling, “fine. but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

and truthfully he doesn’t mind much at all. he is voracious for more time with takara, for more time in your space, for benign moments you might take for granted. he wants to brush his son’s teeth at night and fix his hair in the morning. he taps your foot one more time: thank you. and you nod, almost imperceptibly: you’re welcome. 

~~~~~~~

as much as YOU might have resisted it, there really was about an hour or so when letting satoru sleep on your couch seemed like a good idea. it felt, if you can admit it, easy, the both of you moving around one another as the evening twilight overtook the windows. and it was so plain to see on takara’s face that he was pleased, too, to have you both here. sitting on the edge of his bed together as you tucked him in, watching his first few moments of sleep, made space for a new sort of intimacy. when satoru reached for your hand in the dark you did not pull away.

of course, you regret it now. maybe you’ll regret it forever. by the time you’re brushing your teeth you know you have made an error of cosmic proportions. some time between settling blankets on the couch and joining you in the bathroom satoru had unbuttoned most of his shirt and removed his belt, sidling next to you at the sink with the spare toothbrush you gave him like you weren’t a moment from dropping dead on the counter. you’re too afraid to look at yourself in the mirror; you already know your cheeks are red, that he can feel the rush of your blood in your jugular from inches away. 

“you seem uptight,” he says, though it comes out foamy around the toothpaste in his mouth.

“i’m not used to having people over.” you can’t look anywhere but the porcelain of the sink, too petrified of what you’d say if you looked at him in full. you remember this afternoon in his office and shift on your weight a little.

“you don’t have a lot of sleepovers?” he asks through a grin.

you’re so focused on not making eye contact with him in the mirror that you answer him honestly. “i don’t have any.”

you hear his toothbrush stop. he spits in the sink before leaning on it to face you. “what do you mean you don’t have any?”

you take a deep breath before turning. god he’s so pretty, even more stunning like this, a little unspooled. “what do you want me to say? i’ve never had anyone else to take care of takara. it’s not like i can…” you don’t even know how to end that sentence.

the teasing look leaks from satoru’s face slowly. he asks you with more earnestness than you think you can stand: “have you not had sex since high school?”

it’s not even fully out of his mouth before you’re pushing past him and out of the bathroom but he is relentless behind you—he always was—and you feel him an inch from your back as you walk towards your bedroom door.

“wait a second—”

“satoru, i’m not talking about this with you.”

“no, but i’m being serious.”

“so am i!” you turn at your door and try not to shudder at how close he is. his eyes glow in the low light, a man made of comets.

“i just,” he huffs a little, “i feel bad, i guess.”

“what?”

“well you—you’ve been taking care of takara alone all this time and you haven’t gotten…you haven’t gotten to do—”

“satoru, i don’t need your pity about my sex life, okay?”

“but that’s my point! it’s not just about your sex life, it’s—it’s everything.” he ruffles the back of his head, almost embarrassed, you think. “i feel bad that you’ve been alone all this time.”

you kick your heel against the door behind you to ground yourself. “it’s my fault, isn’t it?” and it comes out a little small, more pathetic than you’ve ever heard yourself. satoru buckles with it.

“baby,” he starts, and you think his hand flexes to reach for you, but you put your palm on his chest to keep him in place. he hasn’t meant to call you that, you know, the endearment from years ago clawing back, finding purchase on his tongue. his heart murmurs like a bird behind his shirt.

“listen, i—i don’t need you to pity me for a decision i made. especially because i don’t regret any of it.”

he breathes out quick, almost angry, but you know not at you. before either of you can stop him, he holds your wrist to keep your hand on him, thumbs your pulse on one side. he does this a lot, you think. you wonder if he knows that you can feel his heartbeat, too, through the pads of his fingers. and there’s a moment, among the sounds of your breathing and the creak of the floorboards under his feet, when you think it is all over, that you’ll let him kiss you against your door. earlier today you felt like a coward for denying him, but that self-flagellation has waned. no, it takes a great deal of courage now to press your hand more firmly into him, to not rise onto your toes and suck at the skin under his jaw.

“goodnight, satoru,” you whisper, and shut yourself into your bedroom before you lose your resolve.

the night is cruel to you. it feels very much like sleeping with a black hole in your living room; you cannot ignore the thought of him draped over your sofa, body too long to fit comfortably. even with your eyes closed you can feel him from a room away. 

you toss under the covers, try to at least become entangled enough in your sheets that you cannot rise from your bed to check on him. you hope he’s fallen asleep by now, that you’re the only one left in this apartment awake.

being alone in the dark gives you more time to think, more time to resolve a decision you cannot yet name. you have been so insistent that to become ensnared again by satoru’s pull would be a mistake, let him leave you at the windowsill, stiff armed him at your door. you wonder whether any of it matters in light of the fact that you are utterly in love with him. of how much consequence could the physical distinction be now? in truth, you can’t tell whether you are freeing yourself from an obsolete stipulation or looking for any reason to abandon it.

in the blue midnight streaking through your curtains you can admit to yourself that a part of you, the fleshy part that wants for things, is simply too afraid that you need satoru more than he needs you, and to reconcile that is a task too treacherous to ask of yourself. what of the moment when, slick with sweat and the smell of sex, you move to kiss him again and he turns away? it’s all hypothetical, of course, but still it plagues you like a memory. and you suppose you have no reason to fear it at all; he has made clear enough that he wants you. 

it almost feels ridiculous to pine so excruciatingly over the father of your child. you’ve already done all of this before, no less as a teenager, and somehow now, a self-actualized adult, you hesitate and turn your knees in. you flip onto your other side with a huff. you’re only in a tanktop and shorts but you feel like you’re suffocating, or worse: something from inside of you is threatening to come loose.

you wonder whether he’s waiting for you in your living room. what a horrific thing to wonder. 

you creak open your door slowly and pad out.

it looks like satoru has given up on sleeping already. he’s sat upright, head tipped over the back of the couch and legs spread, an arm hanging over his eyes. you know he can hear you—you think he might have heard the moment you decided to come out—but he waits for you to address him.

“satoru,” you whisper. at last, he lifts his head, eyes sleepy but undeniably pleased to see you. he pats the spot next to him on the couch as he assesses your mild state of undress and you settle there, facing him. “i can’t sleep.”

he shakes his head. “i can’t either.” though he doesn’t look all that displeased, certainly not as he bends over to collect your legs and drape them over his lap. you let him. you let him drag one enormous hand up your bare leg, too, and he stops just below the knee but still you watch as goosebumps follow his fingers. your body is traitorous but you can’t find it in you to mind.

“when did we get so weird, huh?” he asks you.

“how do you mean?” “sometimes it feels like it used to feel,” he thinks about how you may take that a moment longer, “when we used to be friends.” you nod slowly. “sometimes it feels like i don’t know you at all.” 

honesty looks so pretty on his face. his eyes are slightly narrowed but they’re no less auroral, his lips slightly swollen on the bottom as he bites them between breaths. he points at your nose. “and sometimes, you make that face at me, and i—fuck i mean what am i supposed to do with that?”

you scrunch your nose. “what face am i making?”

“i mean you look—jesus, i don’t know.” he runs a hand through his hair, mussing it further, before continuing, “i just wish you wouldn’t keep thinking in your head.”

you can’t help but laugh softly, bumping your foot into his stomach. “where else am i supposed to think?”

he flails at the sound of your giggle but his lips turn up. “i don’t know! i just spend so much more time now wondering what’s going on in your head. i want to know.” and then, to devastate you further, you imagine, he adds: “you used to tell me.”

you slide a little further into the couch, lay more of your legs’ weight on his lap. he lets his hands drift up to your kneecaps now. “okay, satoru,” you relent. “what do you want to know?”

“you’ll tell me anything?”

“i suppose that’s what i’m offering, yeah.”

he grins. “okay…” he taps his finger on his chin and you snort. “are you still afraid of me being in takara’s life?”

“a little. i’m afraid for both of you. but he…he loves you now, i think. ultimately i’m glad he can know you.”

“what about in your life?”

“what about it?”

“are you glad i’m in your life again?”

you smile, wry. “i think so. even though you torment me and make me spill my secrets.”

he puffs his chest and tugs your legs further into him. you’re almost in his lap, a few inches from it, but whether you notice is a question he decides not to ask. “do you still trust me the way you used to?”

“yes.” you do.

“do you still like me as much?”

“in what way?”

“all of them.”

“you’re greedy,” you whisper.

something punches from satoru’s lungs but you cannot discern what comes out. he says only: “yes, i am. answer me.” 

with a defeated breath you shrug. “yes.” 

his hands have both stalled on your knees, each thumb an omen breaching the threshold of your thigh. your skin twitches, you think, but you can’t look away from his face. he looks like he’s released one foot over the edge of some decision, you can see one teetering moment in the air, and then the resolve sets in.

“do you know how much i still want you?”

your heart kicks. “no,” you confess.

his hands remember themselves again, gripping up your legs higher, higher, now with purpose as they swing around his hips and move you to his lap. straddling him you can feel how hard he is already and you’re certain he can feel your wetness through your shorts, the slick is humiliating and so much. you whine a little and it comes out through your nose. his cock twitches.

“not today in my office?” his right hand cups the back of your neck. “not an hour ago?” your chest rises and falls, stumbling over itself. “you don’t know?”

and you have no faith in your voice now so you only shake your head as much as his hold will allow. he presses his hips into you just once, a fleeting indulgence you’re unsure if he even intended, but you whine again and it looks like it hurts him. 

“let me show you, baby,” he coos, but it’s desperate, too, a prayer into your lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “just one more time.”

you haven’t even finished nodding before you’re kissing him, both of you groaning into the other at the sheer relief of the feeling, his hands grabbing for anything he can reach: around your back, your tit, the globes of your ass to grind you down against him. the fabric of your shorts catches on your clit as it swells and you moan something awful in the back of your throat.

he kisses you like all six years apart demand it, like he can feel how long it’s been in the truest sense, like all at once the wanting has frayed his nerves and your lips cauterize the veins. he bites your lip to make you gasp, taking the opportunity to lick into your mouth as it opens.

you grind your clit onto him again, rubbing little circles on his tip through your clothes and he pants with the pressure. 

“satoru,” you whine, and he ruts up, harder.

“oh, say my name like that again,” he pleads, lips trailing down from your lips to your neck. his tongue streaks hot against your skin, sucking and biting and grinding you onto him like his cock is inside you already.

“satoru,” you repeat, and it comes out clearer without his tongue on yours but just barely. 

“fuck.” he rips your tank top off before attaching to you again, leaving hickies in the hollow of your throat, down over each breast, before taking a nipple into his mouth and laving his tongue there.

your moans almost come out like hums, all strung together, and he preens at the sound of them. you can feel the damp spot on his pants growing as you spread your slick, each wet kiss on your chest demanding a new wave from you. 

“i don’t even need to prep you, do i? you’re already so f–fucking wet,” and he punctuates it with a gyration of his hips that would have made you scream had he not clamped a palm over your mouth. 

you’re almost deaf with the rushing sound of blood in your ears but still you crane to hear him, each filthy utterance a precious thing you covet as he ruts up into you. if you were in your right mind you might find it funny that the experience of dry humping him feels so profound but as it is you can think only of the feeling of his veins through two layers of fabric.

despite how he may have goaded at you he brings one hand down your navel and under your shorts, feeling through your folds and spreading the honey of you further. your mouth is fully dropped open but his hand is large enough to cover it.

“oh, baby—yeah, that’s it, grind on it—you’re dripping for me.” he says it in that pleased way that makes him sound like an animal. you roll your hips onto the pads of his fingers and pleasure shoots up your spine at the rub of them on your clit, around your entrance. he circles his middle finger once before sinking it in and you keen. he holds you still with his other arm, nose pressed to your ear now as he whispers in it.

“f—fuck this pussy is so fucking tight.”

your hole flutters and sucks his digit in and he revels in the grip as he fucks you on it slowly. you try to bounce yourself faster but he squeezes your middle again, bites your pulse as it bumps in your neck. he murmurs there: “let it last,” using his hold to swivel your hips on his hand. your nails grip to his shoulders, surely making marks through his shirt but he lets you, frenetic and buzzing like he gains as much from touching you as you do.

the heel of his palm presses up onto your nub and you bow into him further, and he takes the movement to press another finger alongside the first. something searing and hungry licks up your spine, you’re close already, but there’s no indignity in it. you tug on his hair to bring his face to yours again, pulling back from the hand clamped over your mouth to lick behind his teeth, moaning into his mouth. “cum for me baby, come on,” he encourages.

your eyes squeeze shut as you come undone, heat spasming around his fingers as you soak him to the wrist. “fuck, f–fuck, that’s it,” he curses, mainly to himself, you think. you’re only half-lucid as you come down but you feel him pull his fingers from you and lick them clean, groaning softly around them.

“fuck me, satoru, please.”

his hair doesn’t move as he nods, stuck now to his forehead damp with sweat. neither of you have the patience to remove anything else, simply tugging your shorts to the side and his cock from his pants before you’re dripping right over it. his tip catches on your entrance and you both go half-boneless with the feeling.

when you sink onto him you feel a little like you did in his office earlier in the day. like time has stopped, or maybe like it has all arrived at your fingertips, like you’re everywhere. you remember this feeling, a little bit, but it’s also undeniably new. the stretch burns but you hardly feel it, taking no time before sitting on him to the hilt. your head drops to his shoulder, little pants into his neck, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight, baby, this pussy was made for me,” he chokes into your ear. you each have a handful of the other between your fingers, the lines of your palms tattooing him even through his uniform he still has mostly on. you hope his brand you the same.

all it takes is one, slow pull of your hips before he’s rutting up into you again, not so much ruthless as intense, deep and pregnant with meaning and so precise you wonder whether he’s using his six eyes to assess the inside of you. with one hand he holds your face to his ear to consume your moaning that way. you whine and when he shudders, bucking harder, you whine again.

“o–oh, these sounds are mine, this pussy is mine,” he stutters. the squelch of your cunt sucking him in seems to only encourage him, and you make yourself wetter just hearing it.

“it’s so good, satoru,” you whine.

he laughs softly, manic, “yeah?”

and you only wail quietly again. with each snap of his hips you thrust yourself down, clit throbbing and catching on the little white scratch of his pubic hair, and his other hand, still handled on the plush of your ass, rubs you harder as you move. you vaguely hear your little ah! ah! ah! but mostly you can feel the pleasure building again, can feel the vein down the underside of his cock as you wring him harder.

“hah–i won’t–fuck–i won’t last if you keep squeezing me, baby.”

you only feel encouraged, sliding deeper, revelling more in the slip of your slick as it floods out of you.

“ah–-i’m close, i’m close,” you breathe.

“fuck yeah, i wanna feel you cum on my cock, let go for me.”

and you do. have you ever really denied him? your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your hips buck wildly, the pleasure seizing you from the inside out. satoru moans feeling you ride your high, panting into your ear, “tell me to pull out.”

you shake your head, little smile creeping over your face as he fucks you through your high. “isn’t the damage already done?” you ask breathlessly.

and he can only laugh for a second before his hips stutter and still, pulling you into him like he wants to crawl inside of you and live in your stomach

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

his cum is so hot as it fills you, and so much, your own orgasm jolting you again, exulting in the feeling. 

he drops his forehead to your shoulder now, sweat of your collarbone meeting the beads on his hairline. the sounds of your breathing mix, too; your cum and your hands and your warmth, all of it intertwined with his, maybe forever. he kisses you one more time, sated now, along a hickey he’d left on your neck before. you return one to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn’t say anything when he sits up straight again, supporting the wings of your shoulders with his hands. there is only that look on his face, a cousin to the one you saw the first day he found you and takara, but so recognizably relieved this time: everything is different now.

~~~~~~~

sss taglist:

@emochosoluvr @por0u @vraiao @voidfulcrumdilemma @vaniyeiszero @missingnozw @crowroakchi @seikamuzu @anonymous-3846 @asahinasstuff @kunisnaomi @bl6o6dy @meanderingwistera @lilac-heartz @acowboykisser @miiikooooooo @missingnozw @heiranni @sadmonke @alicebleu @sanchann @splinx04real @lolllllllllllllliiiiiii @eggrollforyou @updated-version @yaurss @khaleesihavilliard @mizzowizzo @mierins @eolivy @spencerreidisagorgman @dahliadaenerys @cantchooseanctbias @fallenfromgrxce @theclassbookworm @liestel @jiasdream @maddy24207 @valoriya @19catspiledontopofeachother @hbhbhbhbhby @bijuu-naginata @jv5t4g1rl @bobagang @thraxpatty @muscovitechick

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Gravity Part Two

Part One | Part Three

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Notes: Welcome back to another accidental three-parter. Not beta-read.

Rating: M

Length: 5K

Warnings: Yearning (a frickin lot); slow burn; coworkers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; canon-typical medical chat; fluff; book sharing; Reader is roommates with Ellis; Jack 'Prolonged Eye Contact' Abbot

Summary: Now and again, you felt his eyes flit toward you, too, but they didn't seem to linger for nearly as long. It was new, and fun—you’d spent so much time avoiding his gaze, but now it felt like you were playing tag.   

Little glances. That was all you allowed yourself at work for a while, just little glances. You limited it to certain areas—near the charge board, the staff room, by the lockers. Little glances, and little smiles.

He began to stick a little closer to you in the ER. And it was different than it had been when you were new to the Pitt. You were more steady, more sure of yourself, more used to the warmth and presence of him. 

But where his attention had nearly sent you careening into the sandwich cart just a few weeks ago, you worked steadily with Jack keeping close.

You even managed to keep that girlish fluttering at bay until the two of you were shoulder to shoulder, taking off your PPE. 

“Excellent work.” 

“Very kind of you, Dr. Abbot.” 

“Honesty and kindness are rarely the same thing. I said it was excellent work because you did excellent work.” 

“Well, thank you.”

“Sure. You ever find those Triscuits?” 

“You know what, I did. Right after Ellis pointed them out to me.” 

-- 

Was the weather the nicest? No. It was gray, drizzly, and windier than usual. 

But that didn’t stop you from taking a leisurely walk. It was your first day off after eight straight shifts (the last had been an unplanned double), and you needed to clear your head. You started with a late lunch at a cafe near your apartment before moseying over to your favorite bookstore. 

You had already been there far longer than you’d planned, and were going to move on—but something stopped you in your tracks. You weren’t typically the type to stare, but for once, you leaned against one of the bookshelves and just let yourself look.

It was sort of strange to see Abbot out and about, and at your favorite bookstore no less—but it was also kind of…Hot.

You had never seen him so relaxed before: not in the staff room, not filling out a patient’s chart, not even when he was just taking his things out of his locker. It was as little odd to see him out of scrubs, too—but you weren’t taking issue with the sight of him in jeans and a henley that fitted very, very nicely over his thick biceps. 

You could just pass by, you knew that. He hadn’t seen you, probably had no idea you were there. He would’ve made his presence known by now if he had, or you would’ve felt him looking at you. 

You could always feel it when Abbot looked at you. It was what had sent you skittering the day before Ellis had asked if something was going on between the two of you. You’d been so focused on your conversation with Shen and then you’d just…Felt someone looking. And you’d known that it was Jack. 

It had been a combination of factors. Some of it was vantage point, but so much of it had been the intensity. You’d made such a careful study of trying to avoid his attention for so long. When you felt it that day, you made the rare mistake of looking at him, and it kicked you into a panic, sending you down the hall muttering something about patient results. 

It wasn’t as bad these days. You still felt when Jack was looking at you, but the fear that used to accompany it had ebbed. You’d gotten better with him in the ER, you could just…Say hello, see if it was any better outside. 

You steeled yourself, crossing the aisle and speaking up: “Do my eyes deceive me, or is Dr. Abbot not working a night shift?” 

He glanced up from the book in his hand, doing a double take as he reshelved a book. “I take days off now and again.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“What brings you in here?” 

“Just browsing,” You shrugged. 

“Surprised you’re not holding anything. Ellis said 90% of the books in the living room are yours, even more back in your room.” 

You pressed your lips together, fighting off a smile. 

“They are—And yeah, usually I’d make a meal of being in here, but I’m on a book buying ban.” 

“Really?” Jack leaned against the shelf, arms folding across his chest—and it took everything in you not to let your eyes drift over the bulge of his biceps. “How’s that going?” 

“Surprisingly well.” 

“How long’s the ban?” 

“A year.” 

Jack’s eyes widened, brows lifting. “A year?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That seems a little extreme.” 

“Honestly, it’s not. I could probably build an entire bookshelf with my to be read pile.” 

“What are you doing in the meantime?” 

“Trying to work my way through the books I already own—And taking pictures of book covers that I’m interested in when I’m browsing so I don’t forget.” 

“So being in here isn’t torture for you?” 

“No, not really. It’s like window shopping.” 

“Anything in here catch your eye today?” 

Just you. 

“Oh, sure,” You fumbled looking around at the shelves, trying to push past your thoughts. “A couple. What about you?” 

“Buddy’a mine recommended this to me,” He reached into the shelf, drawing out a copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. 

“Oh yeah?” You reached out, taking it from it when he offered. 

“You read it?” 

“Nope,” You shook your head, turning it over and skimming the jacket copy. “It’s on my list, though.” 

“Mm…Tell you what,” Jack plucked it from your hands again. “I’ll lend it to you when I’m done with it.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “That’d be cool, thanks.” 

“Unless…”

“What?” 

“You don’t dogear pages, do you?” 

You hesitated, pulling your lower lip guiltily between your teeth, and Jack let out a pained little hiss before tutting his tongue. 

“I don’t do it when it’s someone else’s book,” You insisted. Jack just hmph’d softly, straightening up and turning away. You couldn’t help but follow, falling in a half-step behind him. “What’s so wrong with dogearing pages, anyway? Your own copies, I mean. It’s not like I’d do it to a library book or something.” 

“Have you ever heard of a bookmark?” 

“Have you ever heard of personal freedoms?” 

Jack chuckled, setting the book on the counter and fishing into his pocket for his wallet. 

“Rings a bell, sure.” 

-- 

“You out on one of your walks?” Jack asked, stepping back and holding the door open for you. 

“Oh, thanks—Yeah, I am. Needed to get some air.” 

“This your last stop?” 

“No, no,” You shook your head. “I usually take a leisurely stroll through Marshall’s. Poke things, think about how cute the mugs would look in the apartment, leave.” 

“Could always get one.” 

“In theory.” 

Jack’s brows tipped up with intrigue, and your lips twisted into a bashful smile. 

“I might also be on a mug buying ban,” You admitted. 

“Jeez.”

“I know.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“Shut up,” You chuckled. “I’m not that bad. Mostly doing it to prove to Ellis that I can control myself when it comes to cute drinkware.” 

“What if you break one of the mugs you have now?”

“Well, that would be an exception. Not planning on breaking any mugs, though.”

“Does anyone ever plan on it?” 

You shook your head, averting your eyes and looking around. You should let him get on his way—

“...Wow," He huffed.

“What?” 

“You’re still doing it.”

“Doing what?” 

“We’re the furthest we could be from work and you still can’t look at me.” 

“I’ve been looking at you plenty,” You insisted, “And this is hardly the furthest we could get away from work.” 

“Oh no?” 

“Nope.” You took a couple of steps back, nodding over your shoulder. “I gotta go, I have a date with the mug aisle.” 

“That a real hot spot?” 

“At six pm on a Tuesday? Sure, it’s wild.” 

“...Mind some company?” 

The request seemed to surprise both of you—almost as much as your answer: 

“Long as you don’t make any more cracks about me dogearing pages.” 

“No promises.” Two strides, and then Jack fell into step with you. Your stomach flipped as his arm brushed yours, and you hastily shoved your hands in your pockets, putting a little distance between the two of you. 

“How far’s the walk?” He asks. 

“Not far—Ten minutes, maybe.” 

“Been out long?”

“A couple hours. I stopped for lunch first.” 

“Any other usual stops?”

“No,” You shake your head. “Not usual. Sometimes I switch up the order I go in, or stop in somewhere that I’ve walked by a hundred times but never gone into…What about you? Any other plans for the day?” 

“A few errands—All things I’m happy to be distracted from.”

It caught you off-guard, and you couldn’t help your brow wrinkling. Was that what you were? A distraction? 

“You said a friend of yours recommended the book?” You pushed on, determined not to let yourself or the conversation get bogged down by your contemplation. 

“Yeah. And I made the mistake of mentioning it to my therapist, who seconded it.”

“Can’t get out of it now.”

“Exactly.”

--  

You were just about to put the last of your things away when his arm entered your periphery, shoving the book into your locker beside your bag. You cast a glance back toward Jack as he drifted just a few feet away, unlocking his locker with fastidious focus. You took up the book, flipping through it—not a single dogeared page. 

“How soon do you want it back?” You asked.

“Whenever you’ve finished. There isn’t a waitlist.”

“What’d you think of it?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything.”

“Mm.” You hesitated before you fished into your bag, drawing out the book that you'd finished most recently. “Here.” 

You held it out, heard the pause in Abbot’s rustling before he took a step closer. You felt the book lift out of your hand before you forced yourself to fish through your things for another few moments—though you weren’t looking for anything in particular. 

“...Why this one?”

“It’s on the list.”

“How long have you had it?”

“An embarrassingly long time,” You admitted. 

“More than two years?” 

“Pleading the fifth.”

“Yikes.”

“I know.” You hesitated, glancing over, “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Jack insisted. “Besides, if you fuck with some of my pages, I can fuck with some of yours.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I will iron your pages, Abbot. They’ll be straighter than they were when you bought the book.” 

-- 

It became a routine. You didn’t mean for it to, but it did. You’d always considered yourself a fast reader, and it seemed like Jack could get through a book at a similar clip. It usually kicked off at the top of your shifts—either you or Abbot would linger by the other’s locker, pass over the book that you’d just finished and wanted to return, the one you thought he other should read next. You felt like you’d never gone through more of your TBR pile in your life, or in such an orderly fashion. You found yourself selecting your next read based on what Jack may think, or how interested he may be in it. 

Waiting by your locker shifted to lingering as you swapped books, commenting on thoughts, feelings, surprises, plot twists. You didn’t always meet his eye, secure in your ability to hold the book, to focus on it instead of him before you handed over your next reads. He always seemed to surprise you. Even when you were certain that you knew how he’d feel about his work, his opinions managed to catch you off-guard. 

-- 

“Here.”

You didn’t dare glance back as he held your book out, biting your lip as you passed his copy of The Old Man and the Sea back to him.

“Thoughts?” He pried. 

“I can’t tell you until you tell me what you thought.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s one of my favorites.” You glanced toward him doggedly. “No pressure, though.”

His silence made you want to squirm out of your skin, and the soft, “I liked it,” Made your shoulders drop away from your shoulders.

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” 

“...Hm.” You had no right to feel so relieved, but there the feeling was, nonetheless. 

“Is it a newer favorite of yours?” 

“Hm? Oh—No. I just had an itch to reread it recently.”

“Doesn’t that go against the spirit of the book ban?” 

“Not technically.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d think. ‘Course, you could just be saying that you liked it to placate me.”

“...You think I’d do that?” 

You shrugged, face heating as you felt his increased scrutiny. You fished into the locker for the next book you were planning on giving him.

“Here, this one is uh—” You twisted with it in your hands, “Well it’s on the newer end of my TBR list, and I honestly don’t know how I feel about it. I nearly DNF’d twice.” You held it out to Jack, frowning when he didn’t reach for it. Your eyes swept up to his face, and you stilled at the sight of him—the slight furrow of his brow, and almost disappointed press of his lips. 

“...What is it?” You hedged. 

“I liked the book.” 

“I know, I—I believe you!” 

He considered you for another moment before he took hold of the book with a grunt. You fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot as you tried to get a better handle on the conversation. 

“Do you have one to, uh—”

“Yeah—Yeah, it’s in my bag.” Jack drifted a few steps away, and you watched him open his locker. You hesitated before you took a couple of steps closer, shoving your hands into your pockets. 

“My thoughts on your pick, by the way: lots of sea, not enough old man,” You teased, and relaxed a touch as Jack’s lips quirked with a smile. “Kidding—but it was an interesting read. I’m not used to reading authors with a style like that. I mean it’s uh…There’s something about Hemingway’s writing that comes off as simple at first, I think, at first, but it’s so…Abrupt?” You floundered, shaking your head. “Maybe that’s not the right word—”

“No, I know what you mean.” 

You watched Jack tuck your book into his locker before he propped his backpack up on his knee, unzipping it and drawing a thick book out. Your brows rose at the length, and you huffed out an affronted laugh.

“Uh…Okay. Intense choice. How long did this take you to read—?” You turned the book over in your hands, jaw-dropping at the pages. “Doctor Jack Whatever-the-Fuck-Your-Middle-Name-Is Abbot—” 

“Alright—”

“Am I seeing dogeared pages?” 

“Listen—”

“You hypocrite!” 

“I was young and foolish and didn’t know how to treat my books well, alright? Or, I was what’d you call it? Exercising my personal freedoms?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you turned the book over, smoothing your fingers over the word Dune is just barely legible along the worn spine. “I’m getting a feeling you’ve read this one a few times.” 

“You’re not the only one that likes to revisit favorites.”

“Hm.”

“And if you hate it, it might break my heart, so.” Jack shut his locker, offering you an innocent smile. “No pressure.”

“...Are you kidding me?” 

“Nope.”

“That’s not fair!” 

“You gave me a favorite and I didn’t get a warning.”

“This is so not the same. I didn’t wanna tell you that it was a favorite and put the pressure on you. You, on the other hand, just poured it on me.” 

“You can handle it.” 

You stayed frozen in place as Jack turned away, heading for the charge board. You watched him go, book heavy in your hands as that turned over and over in your mind. You jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and turned to see Ellis watching you expectantly. 

“Oh—Uh,” You glanced over, realizing that you were standing in front of her locker. “Sorry.” You hurried over to where yours still was open. You gave the book another nervous look before tucking it away. 

“What was that?” 

“Dune." 

“Didn’t you fall asleep watching that movie?” 

“First of all, I fell asleep watching the tv spinoff,” You grumbled testily. “Second of all, it was a last-minute choice after we had those people come in from that elevator accident. I was all,” You waved your hand toward your head, “Hopped up on adrenaline, and then I crashed.” 

“Really hard.”

“Maybe I just need a different angle of entry.” 

“Maybe,” Ellis muttered, but you could tell that she didn’t buy it. “Thought you were on a book-buying ban.”

“I am.” 

“You didn’t buy that?” 

“No! No, I borrowed it from someone.”

“Shen?”

“No.”

“Lena?” 

“Nn-nn,” You shook your head, hurriedly closing your locker. You glanced over, panic bubbling as you spotted Ellis watching you closely. You plastered on a bright smile, hurrying past her as you chirped, “Better get in there!” 

--  

You hadn’t been so scared of a book since you tried to read The Shining. You sat on your bed, legs crossed, staring down at the copy in your hands. How did long had Jack had this book for, anyway? He’d said he was young and foolish when he dogeared the pages. 

You thumbed the spine, trying to refocus on the intro again. Bene Gesserit…How did you pronounce that? You could’ve sworn you’d heard that when you tried to watch that show, but you couldn’t remember. 

You reached out, taking your phone off of your nightstand and opening Jack’s contact information. You’d had it for a long time for ‘work purposes,’ but you never actually used it. And this technically wasn’t a work purpose. Would he view it as an overstep? 

You shook your head, putting the phone down. You could just ask him the next time you saw him. You leaned back against the headboard, doing your best to focus up again. Muad'Dib…That was it. 

You took the phone up again, steeling yourself as you fired off a quick text: All sci-fi and fantasy novels should come with a pronunciation guide

You put your phone down, refocusing on the book. When you noticed that your eyes have strayed toward the phone screen multiple times, you reached out to flip it face-down. You were just about to let go of it when you felt it buzz once, then twice—and to your horror, you realized that he was calling you. Shit, you did overstep, didn’t you. 

Fuck, okay, just buck up, apologize, and move on—

“Hello?” You asked as you answered. 

“What are you hung up on?” 

“I—” You floundered, brow furrowing. “Uh…Bene Gesserit?”

“You’ve got that one right. What else?” 

“Mood—No. Mode dib?” 

“Moh-ah-deeb.”

“Ah. See when you say it like that it sounds so simple.” You crossed your legs, cradling the book in it. “Well, thanks for clearing that up.” 

“Sure.” And you expected that to be the end of it, but— “Can’t sleep?” 

You frowned, pulling the phone away from your face and eyeing the time. Half past ten. You’d only been off of your shift for a couple of hours. 

“Honestly?” You sighed, returning the phone to your ear, “No. Figured I’d do some reading to relax.” 

“How’s that going?” 

“I’m on page one.” 

Jack grumbled, "Ouch," and you rolled your eyes, a smile pulling at your lips. 

“I’m working on it,” You insisted. “Be easier if you could just read it to me so I wouldn’t spend so much time wondering if I’m thinking about these terms right.”

“...Hm.” 

Your brow furrowed at the hum, but you forced yourself to move on: “Anyway, I hope I didn’t wake you up or pull you from anything. You should get some sleep.” 

“I’ll get there. Give me a sec.” 

“I—Okay?” You frowned. A second for what? But you almost didn’t care. You were just glad he wasn’t reading you the riot act for using his number for a personal reason. 

“Page one?” 

His return question only deepened your frown, and you pushed yourself to sit up a bit. 

“Yeah?” 

“Alright…A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct.”

Your eyes widened as you scrambled for the book in your lap. You were torn between following along and just listen to Jack reading to you. You waited for a pause in his reading before you spoke up: 

“Jack?” 

“Yeah.”

“You don’t actually have to—You know, I mean I just meant, um—”

“I know.” 

You bit your lip, sinking back against your pillows. 

“Okay,” You murmured. Jack began to read again, and for a moment, you let your eyes slide shut to just listen.

--  

“We should call it soon.” You hated to say it, but it was nearly noon. “You need your sleep.” 

“You don’t?” 

“I’m not on next shift.” 

“Neither am I.” 

“And I also feel like you don’t sleep as much as you should.” 

“I’m starting to get the sense that you and I have that in common.” 

You smiled, scrubbing your hand across your face. “Maybe. But I gotta say, thanks,” You swung your legs over the side of the bed. “You’re better than an audiobook.”  

“You’re gonna make me blush.” 

“I’d like to see that.” Oh—Fuck. You did need to go to bed, you were liable to say something even more out of order than that. 

“Could always do this in person next time.” 

“Hm?” 

“I just mean,” He cleared his throat. “Could always be in the same room when we do this.” 

You considered for a moment, smoothing your fingers over the pages as nerves kicked up in your stomach. 

“If you’re worried about me looking at you,” He added, “You’d be in the clear. I’d be looking at the book.” 

You laughed, nodding. “That is a very good point—but considering the condition of this copy, I’d believe you have it memorized.” 

“The offer stands.” 

“If I take all of your time up, you won’t read the book I gave you.” 

“I’ll find the time.” 

“When you’re supposed to be sleeping?” 

“Maybe.” 

You smiled, propping your head up on your hand. He’d offered—and you were beginning to learn that Jack Abbot had a habit of putting his money where his mouth was. “Alright. In-person next time.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm.”

“Okay.”

“Could come here,” You added before you could stop yourself. “I mean—Parker’s on shift tonight, so we'd have the place to ourselves.” Shit. Did that sound like a sexual proposition? “Or I could come to you—Or we could go to the park or something—” God, shut up, shut up. 

“I vote yours. I already know where the coffee machine is.” 

“Is that all it takes to get you to go somewhere?” 

“It helps.” 

“You know what, just for that, I’m gonna move it…Jack?”

“Yeah?” 

“If I dogear one of these pages—”

“I’m gonna know.”

“We’ll see.”  

-- 

You weren’t sure who was more concerned about the fact that Jack was coming over: you or Parker. Of course, Parker didn’t actually know that it was Jack that you were expecting—she just knew that you had someone coming over. You hadn’t been as subtle as you should’ve been—about neatening the living room, going to the grocery store to get snacks, moving the coffee pot to the other side of the kitchen. 

“I just wanna try it out over here,” You fibbed, “I think it might help the kitchen flow better.”

“Uh-huh…Who are you rolling out the red carpet for?” Ellis asked. You glanced toward the clock—6:24. You had told Jack that he could come by whenever he wanted after seven, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he kept regular working hours on his nights off, turned up on the dot. 

“I, um—No one. Well not no one, but. Just a friend.” 

“A friend like Shen is a friend? Or a friend like you steamed up the bathroom taking an everything shower kinda friend?” 

“It was not an everything shower!” 

“Then what the hell took you so long?” 

“Don’t you have a shift to get to?” 

“I’ve got time.” 

“Not a lot.” 

“Oh, you want me outta here bad-bad. Is he cute?” 

…You could dish a little, right? Nothing was going to happen, anyway. 

“Yeah,” You sighed resignedly. “He is.”

“Damn, so you have been holding out on me.” 

“Not holding out! It’s just a friend…Hang.” 

“Netflix and chill?” 

More like Dune and not to try to embarrass the hell out of yourself.

“We’re not gonna fuck,” You insisted. 

“Have a little faith in yourself. ‘Sides, you need to get some.” 

“Parker!” 

“You do! You’re backed up and this,” Ellis waggled a finger at you, “Is not good. ‘Sides, if you get some tonight, I won’t be here. You can do—You know. Whatever you’ve gotta do at whatever volume you wanna do it at.”

“I’m begging you to stop talking about this.”

“Okay,” Ellis held her hands up in surrender. “I’m going.” 

“Don’t forget your water bottle.” 

“MVP,” Parker sighed, “Whoever this guy is better wife you up before I do.” 

“Shut up,” You cackled, whacking her arm as she passed you. “Have a good shift.” 

“Have a good fuck.” 

“Parker! Jesus christ!”

-- 

Having Jack over had seemed like a good idea earlier that day, but having him there with you, just inches away on the couch, was a little tortuous. 

This was for a number of reasons. For one, Jack had opted for a shirt that gave you a maddeningly good view of his biceps. For another, when you’d been on the phone, you’d been able to just close your eyes from time to time and listen. You couldn't do that when he was right in front of you. Well—you could, but there was a chance he’d take it as boredom or disinterest.

But, now and again, you let your eyes stray from the copy of Dune to look at Jack—to watch his smile tick up and lower as he read the familiar words, to see his head tilt just so as he jumped from one character’s voice to another. And now and again, you felt his eyes flit toward you, too, but they didn't seem to linger for nearly as long. It was new, and fun—you’d spent so much time avoiding his gaze, but now it felt like you were playing tag.   

When Jack made his second throat-clearing noise in the last half-hour, you sat up, lightly nudging his knee with yours.

“You want some coffee or something?” 

“Uh—” Jack glanced from the book, back toward the kitchen, “Yeah. Coffee’d be nice.” 

You swung your legs down from where they’d been tucked up on the couch, grabbing your bookmark from where you’d put it on the table, and biting back a smile when Jack whistled low. 

“Hang on a second.” 

“Don’t start with me, Abbot.” 

“Where’d that come from?” 

“May’ve grabbed it when I went to the bookstore earlier.” That was good, that sounded casual—not like you’d gone to the store specifically for the purposes of getting a nice bookmark.

“Really.” 

“Mm. Caught my eye.” 

You were only a couple of steps away, certain that Jack would stay behind and get a better look at said bookmark, but he was up, and behind you, and chuckling, “You actually moved the damn thing,” When he spotted the coffee pot. 

“I like a clean follow-through. You hungry at all?” You asked, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “I can see what we have around.” That was good, too—it made it sound like you hadn’t gone out of your way to make sure you had good food in the house. 

“I’m okay for now.” 

For now sounded nice—like he’d be there for a while and would need to reassess later. 

“So—Thank you,” He took the mug as you offered it, “What do you think so far?” 

You leaned back against the counter, mentally combing through the chapters, the bits that had stuck out to you when you weren’t focused so strongly on Jack’s voice. 

“Jessica…” 

“Mhm?” 

“I can’t figure her out—which feels weird to say, because we’ve gotten her perspective, but she feels so…Guarded? Even to me as a reader. Also—Jessica?”

“Yeah?” 

“Jessica.” 

Jack didn’t answer, shook his head a touch, so you clarified: 

“Huge sweeping sci-fi world and her name is fucking Jessica?”

Jack spluttered a laugh into his coffee, lowering the mug to swipe at a couple of spilled drops on his chin, and you beamed, going on, “And Paul? Did Herbert spend so much time making up, like—Thufir Hawat and Gurney Halleck and Leto Atreides and—”

“Duncan Idaho?”

“Well—No Duncan Idaho sounds like he passed a chain coffee shop on a road trip and said ‘sure.’ Like that was the beginning of the end for creative names in this book.” 

Jack’s laugh tapered, and you were faced with his soft, warm smile again. Oh—geez. You turned away from him, reaching into the cabinet for a mug of your own.

“It’s clear that Leto cares about her…A lot,” You added, “Despite how basic her name is. But when he said ‘be thankful I never married you,’ it felt so…Cruel.”

“You think he meant it to be?” 

“No? But…” You trailed off, shaking your head. 

“He said in the next breath that he also thinks of her comforts.”

“Yeah, because in some respect, if she’s not comfortable, he won’t be.” 

“So you think his intentions are selfish?’ 

“I think his intentions are sweet, but they don’t come across like that.”

“She won’t let him be—Because she knows they can’t afford it.” 

You frowned, turning to lean against the counter. “How do you figure?”

“When she wants to raise another topic, but swaps her comment to what time he’ll be eating dinner.” Jack crossed the kitchen to stand beside you. “What does he think?”

“...That she wanted to ask him something different.”

“And that he wished they were somewhere else,” Jack murmured, “And alone.”

Your stomach flipped—at his closeness, his tone, and the gaze that you found yourself locked into. You gave a small nod as you considered it. 

“But he knows better,” You realized. "They both do." Jack’s smile widened, and you finally let your gaze drop from him to your coffee. “I can understand why you’ve read it so many times. There’s…A lot in here.”

“Any predictions?” 

“On what?” 

“What happens next.” 

“More bureaucracy? Some Harkonnen action? Sand?” 

“What about Leto and Jessica?” 

You thought for a moment, glancing toward Jack. “I don’t know. I hope it turns out well, but…”

“But?”

“...I’m not really an optimist.”

Last Part

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @artsymaddie

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @brnesblogposts ; @antisocialfiore @thescarletfang ; @rosiepoise88 ; @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 ; @darksparklesficrecs ; @overduelibrarybooks @friska101-cg ; @andabuttonnose ; @deerandbunnies

[jj-one]

𖠿 ៹ ˚. ꒰ SKZ + WHERE THEY LIKE TO FINISH ! ꒱

this is smut, do not interact if under 18 !

pairing: skz x fem!reader genre/tags: smut, slight dom/sub play, degrading, praise kink, perv!seungmin, kinda subby!felix, handjob, oral (m. receiving), t*tty f*cking, backshots, spanking, overstim, panty kink, c*mplay, hair pulling, piv, creampie, spit kink, dumbification (?), breeding kink, just a whole lotta nasty shit !!! words: 5.3k (got a little carried away.. my bad)

[ note. ] — so yeah i’m back in my smut era once again lolz. i got a random burst of motivation to get back into it so let’s see how long this’ll last ! enjoy my horny word vomit <3

✵ BANG CHAN — ( inside )

This man is most definitely a creampie enthusiast through and through.

He doesn’t even think about pulling out before he’s about to finish; he just wants to fill you up again and again until you’re stuffed to the brim with his cum, white streaks running down your inner thighs. He can’t help the fact that he’s always fantasizing about breeding you properly— to have your belly full of his babies, the way your tits would get bigger and more swollen with milk, how everyone will know just how greedy you were for his cock. It drives him crazy.

Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire, going nonverbal the minute his cock sinks into your gummy walls, feeling you clamp around him instantly, the warmth of you already making him drunk off your pussy.

“Shit... loosen up baby, you’re squeezin’ me.” His breath hitches whilst he positions himself to go deeper, filling you up nice and easy. His broad frame hovers over your body as he picks up his pace, a sheen of sweat glistening over his abs. Your nails dug crescents into Chan’s biceps, gritting your teeth and feeling faint from how good he’s fucking you.

You could cry right now, it’s all become too much for you to bear, your limbs grew weak, your mind going blank. You’re a babbling mess and he loves every bit of it. The curve of his cock hitting you just right as the room is filled with nothing but heavy panting and the sound of your arousal, but you couldn’t stop now, you had no choice but to take it because you’re anything but a quitter!

“Nngh, m’gonna cum!” You whined loudly, cupping your tits and running your fingers along your hardened nipples, mouth going permanently agape as you feel your high approaching.

“Then be a good girl for me and cream all over my cock,” he lowly whispers into your ear, pounding so hard into you the only thing you could do was repeat his name over and over like a broken record. You were simply too fucked out to think or speak— too dumb, too stupid.

That was your final queue to let go, instantly obeying his every word. You were breathless, heart pounding, convulsing on the bed, arching against the sheets, and with a strangled moan escaping his throat, Chan shot thick spurts of cum inside as if he’d been holding it in for months.

He’s groaning as your cunt clenches around his thickness, milking him for all he’s worth, and it’s all too intense for him. He bites down on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder as an immense wave of pleasure washes over him. After he pulls out, he scoops some of the cum that’s dripping out of you on his fingers and pushes it back inside you, if only to chuckle at your choked out moan.

“Fuck.. pussy just made for me, you feel so good baby. You love milking my cock, don’t you?”

✵ LEE KNOW — ( on your ass )

We all know by now that Minho is an ass man at heart, he just loves how it molded into his hands so perfectly, the way it replied to any friction he applied to it on command. He loved how red it got once his hands launched across it’s surface and how he’d sometimes be able to see his own handprints— he absolutely loves to ruin you.

He’d have you bent over on all fours with your ass up in the air, practically salivating at the sight beneath him, he couldn’t help but grab a handful of ass, it’s pretty much second nature for him.

As much as he wanted to fuck you right here and now, Minho was always such a tease, rubbing his length between your dripping folds, your continuous pleas for him to put it in already simply falls on deaf ears. He’s never been one to give you what you want straight away, you’re gonna have to earn it in order for him to comply, and when he finally does slide it in you’re swallowing up every inch that he provides.

His hands grabbed both sides of your waist as he’s mercilessly pounding you from behind, feeling himself lose all self control after a few more sloppy hits against your heat. Even though you couldn’t directly see his facial expressions, you could just picture how pretty he looks in this moment. All sweaty, messy, disheveled hair, panting, muscles tightening and flexing— even that thing he does whenever he’s too focused on chasing his own high. The one where his eyebrows furrow upwards when he’s in pure, utter concentration.

His cock twitches whenever he hears you whine or beg for him, mocking all the dumb noises you make to send you into a further state of delirium. You felt like you were about to pass out when the acceleration of his hips drive into you, drool pooling from the corners of your mouth and dripping down to your chin, turning you into nothing but a brainless slut for him.

“So good, so so good!!” Your moans almost sounding like cries of help as you felt him balls deep in you, and even felt the recoil of your ass everytime he pounded into you. He was getting closer by the minute, watching himself disappear as he’s drilling ungodly amounts of his cock into you.

He can get real possessive in bed, wanting you to reaffirm who exactly you belong to. He already knows the answer, he just wants you to say it.

“Tell me you’re mine baby,” he rasps, hitting your walls precisely, feeling him bring a palm towards your right ass cheek to spank it, gripping it roughly as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. “Only I get to ruin this pretty cunt, it’s all mine to destroy.”

“All yours Min-” you whimper, internally struggling to get a coherent sentence out, body trembling, unable to keep yourself stable. If it weren’t for him holding you in place you would’ve collapsed onto the bed by now.

“That’s right baby, only mine.”

Minho’s thrusts become weaker as he catches his breath, feeling the thread slowly unraveling within. He was about to burst any second, quickly pulling out to spill his seed all over your ass, pushing your body forward so he can get a better view of the scenery. He might’ve just came all over you but that doesn’t mean he was fully done with you yet. Sure you might be all sticky, overly sensitive, and albeit exhausted— but he wants to fuck you again and again until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“You really think I’m gonna stop at just one round? We’re not done until I say we are. I know you’ve got one more left in you, kitten.”

✵ CHANGBIN — ( on your tits )

I strike him as the type to be equally obsessed with all parts of your body, but he’s definitely got a preference of where likes to cum and it shows.

He himself isn’t sure if it’s the sight of his cum dripping down your cleavage or rather the possessive act of pulling out, only to cum onto your tits a moment later that he likes most, but he absolutely enjoys doing it. Especially if you’re kneeling in front of him, either wearing a cute little outfit or simply naked, and presenting your chest to him willingly after sucking him off— he’s a groaning, blushing mess, his hips stuttering as he coats your skin white and needy whines falling from his mouth.

Sometimes, the only way he’ll be able to cum is if he can have his cock between your pretty tits, it was his primary trigger in getting him to reach his climax. He can’t help it.. you just look so damn hot laying there all sweet for him, squeezing your tits together against his hard cock while he thrusts in between them.

“God..” he moaned out. “They’re so soft.. so perfect—” his breath caught in his throat, “could fuck your tits like this all night if you’d let me. You want me to, angel? Hm? Just look at them.. s’pretty and all mine.”

A loud grunt forces it’s way from his mouth as his head slightly falls back, but he couldn’t fully look away— not when you’re doing so good for him. Big, doe-like eyes staring up at him all innocently with his spit and precum on your chest acting as a makeshift lube, Changbin thought you looked you the prettiest like this. He was so far gone all he could think about was the soft, plushiness enveloping his dick in the most blissful way possible. He’s sorry for how hard he’s thrusting against your chest, but he wasn’t in the right state of mind right now, he was far too horny to think rationally; you feel too good all wrapped around his cock like this. Not to mention the cute little whimpers that you’d make as you work hard to hold them together against his force— you’re fucking spoiling him right now, god, he loves you so so much.

“Please binnie, wan’ your cum..” you’re begging for it at this point, wanting nothing more than to have his release spilling all over your bare chest, even your voice is tipping him further over the edge.

There’s only one way this was going to end, and that was by blowing several massive shots of his cum all over your boobs. Sticky, white ropes laced over your tits that’s now caked on your spit-slick skin. You looked so beautiful covered in his seed— so heavenly that he needs to sit back on your hips and admire it for a second.

He uses the tip of his cock to smear it around even more, gliding it over your nipples and prodding at the sensitive nubs. Chills running down his spine from that subtle stimulation, the view alone was enough to make his head spin. He doesn’t care how gross it is, he just wants to paint a pretty picture on them with his cum :((

“Fuck, princess, you’re so pretty like that; so gorgeous with my cum on your tits. Can’t believe you let me do this— you’re so good for me, please, babe—”

✵ HYUNJIN — ( in your mouth )

Enjoys cumming into your mouth or down your throat— he’s fine with both, though the latter is more convenient, given how the chance of you spilling anything is smaller. The sight of you swallowing his cum gives him an addicting power rush; he’ll even sometimes pull out after fucking you, only to reach his orgasm in your mouth instead of your cunt.

Hyunjin’s always so loud when you’re sucking him off too, (we love a vocal king!) just constantly praising and encouraging you to keep going. He’s so sensitive, he feels everything intensely. Shivers running along his spine as you spit on his cock to make it even messier, those pretty lips of yours working overtime to take more and more and more of him in. He’d unintentionally be pushing your head down further, making you gag around his length, feeling bad about it only for a second but when you’re still going at it all his worries instantly wash away.

He’ll never truly get over the way you look as you’re deepthroating him; just melts into a puddle of mush as you look up at him with nothing but adoration and obedience, solely devoted to making him feel as good as possible. Your sloppy mouth so wet and warm and welcoming, the feel of your hand squeezing his thigh so tightly, the sound of your wheezing, your choking, your gagging around his thick cock— it’s more than enough to make his brain short circuit.

“Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours baby.” He breathlessly pants, his mind all hazy, unable to think of anything but his imploding orgasm, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

All you could do in response was keep sucking, this time picking up your pace a little bit to indicate that you want it— scratch that, need to milk every last drop of him. He’s breathing heavier now, strings of broken curses and soft sighs of your name leaving his lips like they’ve been waiting for the chance to come out. Small beads of sweat began sticking to his forehead as he scrunches up his eyes and lets his mouth part open for a low, drawn out groan.

It only takes a couple more thrusts to the back of your throat and efficient bobs of your head for Hyunjin to tighten his grasp on the sheets beneath him, for the knot in his stomach to tighten and for all his muscles to tense up. You can feel his abs flexing beneath the soft linger of your hand that’s resting along his abdomen, and you can feel the pull and push of his thighs flexing when your other hand uses it to brace yourself— you know him oh so well, well enough to know the telltale signs of when he’s on the brink of his climax.

You were making him see stars by this point, rutting his hips forward as you do your best to swallow around him. His large hand keeps your head steady against him as he sits up, his cock throbbing and his balls tensing as you feel his hot cum shooting inside your mouth, down your throat, using you to his pleasure. You release his cock with a doting smile on your face, satisfied of the outcome whilst bringing up a hand to wipe the excess spit on your cheek. Your lips are glossy and drooling with saliva, your eyes are watery and your hair’s a mess, and you’re completely worn out, breathing heavy, ragged and deep.

When he’s feeling extra cruel, he makes you stick out your tongue after he came inside of your mouth, ordering you to hold it there purely for humiliation purposes— it’s your own fault for looking this adorably, really.

“Ah, that’s a good girl. You always take what I give you so willingly. Come on, show me that you swallowed everything— and, I must warn you, if you spit anything out, I’ll make you clean it up with your tongue.”

✵ HAN — ( on your face )

He would cum literally any and everywhere on you but especially on your face. Whenever you’re sucking his cock, facials were practically mandatory— he thinks you look the prettiest when you have milky strings of white dribbling down your face.

You looked so sinful like this, kneeling in front of Jisung as you take your precious time with him. You knew how sensitive his balls were, kissing them, fondling and squeezing them, popping them into your wet mouth, sucking and humming loudly and appreciatively; loving how whiny he gets, his face all red and blushy. He’s just the cutest thing ever ;(

You wanted to be gentle with him at first, flattening your tongue against his veiny shaft as you slowly fit more of him in. He’s wincing at the feel of your tongue circling around his girth and making sure to coat everything with your spit. You’re looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth full of his cock while hollowing your cheeks to pull back, only leaving his tip in.

Jisung is also an unintentional head-pusher, but it wasn’t his fault that your mouth felt like a dream, the way your plump lips wrap so perfectly around the tip of his cock, stretching lewdly as your small hand wraps around the base of his thick shaft. It’s your fault that you spend so much time riling him up so bad, so bad that it’s painfully pleasurable when you wrap your lips around his flushed tip, swirling your tongue and gliding through his slit before taking him in completely, until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The sounds he makes are so fucking pretty, placing his hand on your head, pushing you down just a slight bit more.

Aside from his entire body tensing, and his cock twitching and pulsating hotly in your mouth, he gets even noisier. The tiny whimpers and soft pants only become louder, his gasps and moans growing with desperation, needy pleas of, “fuck, please don’t stop,” and, “shit, you’re so fucking good— shit, shit— shit,” are endlessly slipping from his lips. He’s close, you can tell, he’s making it blatantly obvious.

You’re bobbing your head up and down faster now, his tip repeatedly hitting against your throat before Jisung let out a gutteral groan, pulling out of your warm mouth. He’s viciously pumping his cock in front of your face while you’re opening your mouth as wide as you can to make sure you’re able to catch some of it on your tongue. His cum shoots out everywhere, on your face, the sheets, his thigh, even getting in your hair to which you just washed not even a few hours ago..

“M’sorry, baby, didn’t mean to—” his chest is heaving as he attempts to catch his breath, lightheaded after having such an intense orgasm. “—can’t control where it lands..”

From between his legs, you simply roll your eyes. “Don’t apologize Ji. I know you’re not actually sorry.”

Weakly, he chuckles, laughs a little, and reaches out a hand for you to take. “I’m a little sorry..” he admits. Pleased to see you take his hand regardless, he tightens his hold on it and pulls you up, letting you settle all comfortable on his lap. From your position, you’re left looking down on him. Post-orgasm Jisung (well, Jisung at any point in time, but mainly post-orgasm Jisung) is a beautiful sight indeed. Flushed cheeks and swollen, parted lips and hazy eyes and messy hair.

He’s just looks so— fuckable.

The warm feeling of his seed painted on your face was to die for, sinfully looking, almost perverted in a way. For a moment he stilled his movements before smearing his cum over your left cheek. You’re closing your eyes, relishing on the feeling of him before sliding back down to now his softened cock, putting it back in your mouth to get another taste of him. He’s all hypersensitive after cumming, he feels like he’s going to pass out, but there’s no way he could resist you.

“Still hungry for more of my cock after sucking me off like that? Fuck.. you really are insatiable.”

Bonus !! (bc I love him sm and he’s everything to me): He absolutely loses his shit when you use your hand to get him off— he likes to make a mess all over them, watching his cum drip down to your wrists but he licks it up so it won’t go to waste. He enjoys seeing you suck the creaminess off your fingers but he also likes to do it too, tasting his own delicious nut while having your cute little fingers in his mouth <333

✵ FELIX — ( on your thighs )

He’s absolutely enamored by you. Everything about you is nothing short of pure perfection in eyes— but his main weakness? Your thighs without a doubt.

Felix’s hands are always on your thighs, whether it’s intentional or not, he somehow finds his way near his favorite body part on you as if he were drawn to it like a magnet. Caressing them while driving in the car, discreetly tracing shapes on them under the table at some fancy restaurant, or firmly holding them open while he devours you— the one thing he adores the most, though, is when you’re at home relaxing and resting your legs over his lap so he can massage them while you read or watch TV together. But in all honesty… he just wants you to suffocate him with your pretty thighs or better yet, letting him cum on them.

He loves nothing more than to have his cock buried deep inside your cunt, thrusting into you like his life depends on it. Felix loves leaving hickeys all over your thighs too. He claims he can’t help himself, he just needs to sink his teeth into them when you’re splayed out underneath him on his bed. Kissing your thighs lovingly while your legs are thrown over his shoulders, the tenderness clashing with the way he pounds you into the mattress. Lives for how vocal you get for him, a disgruntled moan slipping out when he hears your breathy whimpers and moans as he finds your sweet spot.

Tonight was much different though. He was in a daze, completely hypnotized by the slow roll of your hips into his. If the grinding motion was enough to set him into overdrive, then each pulse of your walls around his cock was enough to make him feel like he could actually combust. But he doesn’t, he can’t bear the thought of not having your skin on his, absolutely positive that he’d let you ride him like this all night.

He can’t get enough of your thighs, especially when wearing those short little skirts that drive him crazy. He’d have you sliding down his aching cock, holding onto your thighs with a muffled groan. Even when you aren’t on top, he’s obsessed with the way they lock around him when he’s fucking you, holding him in. It slightly throws him off rhythm for a second, but he makes a valiant effort to keep going, hips stuttering against yours as he rocks deeper into you, barely able to pull out for each stroke.

“Mmph.. Lixie..” you moan a bit louder when his hands spread to your ass as you ride him, your body falling limp against his when he grips the muscle a little tighter to stop the motion of your hips. The sluggish roll of your hips now becoming more desperate as your pleasure began to wash over you. “M’so close, be my good boy and finish with me.”

“Fuck y/n..” he curses under his breath, nuzzling his nose deeper into your neck as he pulls you in closer, breathing in your intoxicating scent, his mind absolutely fogged by thoughts of you and only you. “I’ll be good.. promise.. just don’t want this to end, need you all night.”

At this rate, it may actually be all night, as neither of you can exactly remember how long ago it was since you climbed onto his lap claiming you wanted to “take care of him” tonight. After all, Felix has been such a good boy for you all week; he deserves a little pampering in the form of you pinning him down to the bed and riding him until you both see stars. He’s too entranced by the curves and dips of your body and the way your features twist into the most beautiful expressions of pleasure as you lazily rotate your hips in a figure-8 pattern.

He’s has been mumbling rambles of praises all night, unable to form a coherent sentence due to the way his mind is clouded by you. He’s absolutely consumed by the way you feel wrapped around him, loving that he can watch you lose yourself on his cock with each languid, self-guided roll of your hips. He’s a wreck. A complete, utter train wreck.

It almost feels as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the air for Felix, the hazy fog that clouds his head only makes his mind whirl more as he watches you fall apart on top of him. So beautiful, so perfect, and all his. He will always take whatever you give him; you have him wrapped so tightly around your finger and he swears he’ll always be your good boy if these are benefits.

The orgasm that you had been leisurely chasing was now near, unable to suppress the euphoric ebbing feeling that made your walls contract in delight. He messily jerks his cock, sporadically cumming everywhere from your sensitive clit to your plush thighs. He always apologizes for the mess by fucking your cunt with his tongue after, cleaning you off in the process.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. Could cum on these pretty thighs for the rest of my life and I’d die happy.”

✵ SEUNGMIN — ( in your panties )

When you two first started dating, you expected him to lean somewhat more on the vanilla side as he never struck you as the type to be overly sexual but you were dearly mistaken.

Little did you know that your boyfriend was lowkey a huge pervert, this man could sniff your panties all damn day— no seriously. The smell of you intoxicates him, sending flashes of dopamine through his receptors, even using them whilst he jerks off to one of the many photos of you that he has in his collection. Post-nut clarity always hits him the hardest right after, starting to feel some guilt for ruining your favorite pair of undies, but it isn’t like he could just buy you some new ones anyway!

Once you discovered this little fetish of his, Seungmin didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. Whenever the two of you would be intimate, it was almost routine for him to simply push your panties to the side, his tip beaming an angry, bright red and leaking with so much precum, sliding it against your saturated folds. A shudder runs through you as the friction just gets so much stronger, just as you needed it. He was grinding into your pussy, his tip eagerly pushing into your entrance, but never fully inside of you, testing your limits, making you tremble and whimper continuously.

He kept moving, his thrusts becoming sloppy and less controlled, giving you more and more. His hot tip couldn’t stop leaking, mixing his wetness with yours when he bumped into your clit, making you see stars. Just before you could even reach your high, he grabbed your hand and moved it away from touching your clit, guiding his tip inside of you with heavy pants, the feeling of relief almost washed over you, but he stopped. With only his blunt cockhead stretching you out he was frantically jerking himself off, moaning and praising you before he finishes.

That’s when you feel something sticky and warm is oozing into your panties and Seungmin pulled the fabric back once he pulls out, drops of his white release your already soaking your panties. His hands felt so soft, delicate against your skin when he readjusts your little dress, palming your clothed pussy to feel the mess he made between your legs, panties now soaked with loads of his cum.

He knows how dirty and disgusting he is, but does he seem to care? Absolutely not. It’s all part of the reason on why he finds it so ridiculously hot. He likes seeing you shuffle uncomfortably as the warm liquid rests against your pussy lips, making you walk around for the rest of the day with them on. To which all you do is complain.

“Seungie.. m’so sticky..” you whine to him while you’re out running errands together, but he only mocks you for complaining, cupping your cheek with his hand. His thumb brushes over your lip and coos at how you suck on his digit instinctively.

“I know, baby. I’ll clean you up when we get back home, okay?” He promises, discreetly moving his other hand up the hem of your dress to push his fingers flush against your hole, plunging his cum further into you.

Later in the day, he finds himself rubbing your clit through the fabric, using his previous release as a lubricant for the act. As much as you try to deny it, you find the filthy act just as sexy. That is why you keep letting him do it.

“Feel so dirty..” you pout from the fact you’ve been walking around with soiled undergarments for hours now.

“Aww, my poor baby. I’m so sorry I just needed you so bad.” He apologizes, sealing your lips into a kiss while rutting against him making the most pathetic sounds as Seungmin’s mess gets rubbed into you. “Go ahead and use me, doll. Payback for me being such a meanie.”

“So mean,” you moan, rocking on him while he holds you close and whispers sweet words in your ear. “Gonna cum... need to cum...”

“Shit. Gotta cum for me already?” He asks and you nod desperately. His hands tighten at your sides and he pushes you down onto his thigh. “That’s okay, princess. You can cum.”

“You’re such a dirty little slut. Love to act all innocent when we’re in public but you secretly love it when I make a mess in your panties, hm?”

✵ JEONGIN — ( inside )

Another fellow creampie enjoyer, ever since you let him hit it raw once he’s never looked back— he refuses to fuck you any other way.

Jeongin could feel every bit of sanity he has left slipping away the minute his cock is greeted with your warm walls, your cunt tightening around his length, sucking him in greedily. You can clearly hear his breathing getting heavier, the low grunts that leave his mouth once he fully bottoms out. You’re grabbing a fistful of the sheets beneath you to keep you stable, whimpering when he picks up his pace, jaw dangling open as he’s got your hair in a tight grip.

“Fuck.. you’re perfect.” He murmurs against your skin, his cock slamming into you with utmost force— all you could do is moan out in pleasure, so overwhelmed as you sank down further into the mattress.

He fucked you harder, hips colliding with your ass in a merciless rhythm, bringing his hand down lower, toying with your sensitive clit to make your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “I-innie,” you cried, broken and desperate, trying to say something, anything, but the words shattered every time he pounded into you. He knows you’re way too fucked out to speak, and that’s the whole point because he isn’t stopping— even when you’re begging for him to slow down, he won’t stop until you cream his cock.

You were a mess. Growing weaker and weaker, lips all puffy and worn out as you drooled onto the sheets, you made a grave mistake by trying to run from him— which only made him bully his cock into you deeper. A couple more strokes to your weeping cunt and Jeongin feels like he’s going to bust a nut already, he doesn’t tune down the harshness though, only upping it and focusing on painting your walls in the end. You were so completely full to the brim, his thickness hitting your g-spot just right, your arms ready to give out under your body as you whined and begged for him to let you cum.

You were caught by surprise when he suddenly pulls out and flips you over on your back. His large hand immediately snaking up to your chest to play with your tits, drawing a tiny bit of spit on them to create a string saliva that connects to his mouth. His other free hand presses down on your stomach, looking down as he sees himself thrusting back into you. You spasmed underneath him, muscles contracting, mind all numbed out, continuously moaning and mewling. Your needy hole clenching tighter around him as if it wasn’t currently being stuffed with his fat cock.

“Mmph— gonna cum, soso close!” He hisses, drilling into you harshly, “let go for me baby, cum with me.” You feel his cock throbbing as he’s helping ride out your orgasm with deep strokes that makes your vision almost fade to black. The once steady pace he upheld becoming more erratic and sloppier, fucking you so dumb until you’re full of cum.

With his permission, you finally let go. Legs violently twitching as you feel your release and his at the same time, plastering your insides with pearlescent ropes of white. He remains inside for a while, waiting for the tremors of your orgasm to pass, until eventually pulling out. He loves watching his cum leak out of you, it’s honestly his favorite part about sex with you; he loves it so much in fact he springs back up not even ten minutes later to do it all over again.

“Damn, baby, you’re so damn tight around me. M’gonna fill you up so good— yeah, that’s a good girl. Gonna have you dripping with my cum, doll, don’t you worry.”

finally back to posting more new headcanons, we cheered guyss ٩(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵๑)۶ i rlly hope this wasn’t too bad shgfsgsg i wrote most of this like a week ago and never bothered to proofread so if there’s any spelling mistakes that’s why.. but nonetheless i hope you enjoyed these and leave a like, comment, and/or reblog if you want ! (no presh) ♡︎

[azullumi]

a scripture on having a certain pretty gambler as your boyfriend ; aventurine

summary — radiant and gleaming, dating him feels like basking under the golden glow of the sun, with the promise of the serene and starlit night ahead.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, fluff, him as your boyfriend basically, there are no spoilers dwww, i never proofread, 1.2k words ; headcanons

note — congratulations to honkai star rail for being the only game to have aventurine!! this is day 2 of writing for this man until i have him.

Aventurine couldn’t abandon the person that he used to be so he carried him in his hands. Always hesitant, afraid, and seemingly detached from everyone he meets—this is why he seems so distant and disconnected from you at first despite being in a relationship with him. Although he lives his whole life gambling, believing that everything happens and the outcomes gained are due to luck, he’s meticulously careful and cautious just to not get too attached to you lest he gets hurt in the end (he has dealt with the sight of people’s backs as they walk away from him multiple times).

It will take time for him to completely warm up and be vulnerable to you. Although there are moments that he lets the facade slip and he lays himself bare, moments where it’s just you and him in the silence, moments where you comfort him after a nightmare that disturbs his sleep; he doesn’t ask for comfort nor assurance often but you always seem to know when he needs it.

Aventurine loves it whenever you gently comb your hand through his hair. Even if he wasn’t vocal about the matter, you’ll know from the way he immediately relaxes under your touch as you rake your fingers through his locks. It just gives him a sense of comfort, finding serenity and affection in such a small act of intimacy; it reminds him of how simple everything could be (oh, how he wishes it was) with just the loving touch of your hands.

He’s not exactly a morning person but would always wake up early, occasionally before you do. It’s either because he has to leave for work early or it just so happens that he woke up just as the sun was rising. If he has to get ready soon, he’ll take a few minutes of his time to admire you as you sleep, to trace the bridge of your nose slowly and carefully so as to not wake you, to draw and follow the outlines of your features with his eyes. But if he has no plans for today, he’ll stay in bed with you and eventually, fall asleep once more. He holds you so close and so tight (but not tight enough to suffocate you) that it’s hard to slip away from his grasp.

You feel a pair of soft lips on your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment until you flutter your eyes open. “Are you awake now, sleepy?” 

“Mmh…” You grumble, your vision adjusts to your surroundings as you blink multiple times. You could see Aventurine getting dressed, putting on his expensive tailored-coat.

“You’re leaving already? Why did you not wake me up?”

“You looked like you were having a nice dream.”

MATCHING PAJAMAS (heck yeah!!). The time when he saw you wearing one of his pajamas, it felt like something had been flipped inside of him and the thought of getting you one for your own that matches his fills each and every corner of his mind. Although all of the matching things you have with him are not just limited to pajamas—it can range from matching jewelry, matching charms, matching clothing, matching glasses, matching everything. God, he goes into a store, sees something that he likes and asks the staff if they have another one but in a different color that you like.

Perhaps you have never noticed (or maybe you have) but he never wears his glasses whenever he’s around you—when there’s only you and him. There was no need to hide anything from you, not when you adore all parts of his being. He melts whenever you compliment him (he’s a sucker for such words of affection) especially when it’s his eyes, loves the way you look at him as if he was everything you wish for.

He’ll often play games with you or initiate a bet but somehow, he has more losses than wins. “You’re cheating!” You’ll say, pointing at him as if you were an attorney from a game that objects to a statement. Aventurine, however, would stare at you in disbelief (though he’s just feigning innocence) and would answer with a raised eyebrow: “How am I the one cheating when you’re winning?” To which you’ll respond with: “That’s because you’re letting me win. You’re not playing fair, Aven.”

SPOILS YOU A LOT and when I say a lot, I mean A LOT. Everything you'll ask for or even just mention in passing, he'll provide. He randomly sends you pockets of money, a notification on your phone lighting up your screen and the text says: You have received 100, 000 credits. You have to get used to it—it’s one of the ways that he shows his affection to you. He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer whenever he gives you something either, so, you have to take it or else you’ll have to deal with a sulky man the whole day. 

Don’t worry though as he ensures that everything that he buys and gets for you is something you would like—expensive meaningless gifts will always be meaningless, he would rather give you a cheap yet beautiful charm that is of your favorite color or flower than an expensive shiny necklace made out of gold and adorned with diamonds which you’ll never wear because it’s too heavy on your neck or it’s not your preference.

On that note, he also likes seeing you wear the things he bought for you. Maybe it’s obvious, maybe it’s not, but he likes to dress you up, likes to see you put on the clothes he picks for you. Dates where he brings you to a boutique to pick clothes together (for both you and him), dress up, and ask each other if they look good is not so rare between you two. It’s silly but the two of you would end up giggling like children when the other would strike a ridiculous pose to show off what they're wearing (and also, with the intention to make one another laugh); he lives for and craves these moments with you.

Brings you together with him to casinos and lets you watch him while he plays as he regards you as his lucky charm (when he’s actually the one who is lucky here). Whenever he wins a game or a bet, he asks for a kiss from you—he taps on his cheek as an indication of his request but he will not force you if you don’t wish to express such affections in public, rather he’ll ask for something else instead like maybe a smile or ask that you hold his hand. Sometimes, if you’re curious enough, he’ll teach you the fundamentals of the game and what you can do to win. The look of pride on his face says it all as he watches you win and your opponent falls to the floor (you just put someone in debt).

The amount of endearing names that he calls you. If ever you get flustered whenever he calls you with those affectionate endearments, he’ll take the chance to tease you, to repeatedly call you with such names until you throw a pillow or any object at him—he catches it though but will apologize while laughing, saying that he won’t do it again.

You have to be understanding and gentle with him, careful as you tread the light, lest you fall into the dark and see that the tall and strong walls he built around himself is nothing compared to the broken and fragile pieces that are sewn on his skin, and he will leave (out of fear, out of anxiety, out of grief, out of self-hatred). But it’s alright, everything will be, you’ll embrace him even in the abyss and you’ll guide him back to your warmth.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Viktor with 98, 71 (public), 17 (breasts, ass and thighs) and 44 please

What happens underwater... - Viktor x Reader

Summary: There’s nothing quite as relaxing as a nice, quiet morning at the spa; but Viktor really enjoys making things more challenging for you.

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Cockwarming, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Jacuzzi Sex, Lap Sex, Dom/Sub dynamics, Viktor Has a Big Cock, Curvy!Reader

Collection: ❤️🌹Peach’s Arcane Valentine's Day 2025❤️🌹

Notes: First work of my personal Arcane Valentine's Day Event for 2025! I definitely went way overboard for a one-shot that was supposed to be around 1K max (and it will absolutely happen again 🤡), but I’ve been dreaming of writing a jacuzzi fic for Viktor for SO long, I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this. Anyway, enjoy, sweethearts 💕!!

“Ahh…” you moan wantonly when your legs enter the warm water, feeling the tension in your muscles vanish with the clouds of steam.

“Careful,” Viktor smirks, already seated in the large whirlpool. He's settled in quite comfortably, lithe arms resting on the cool, faux marble edge. “We would not want other visitors to think we are doing anything… inappropriate here.”

You throw him a mocking glare, making it a point to let out an even louder moan of satisfaction once your body is fully submerged in water, closing your eyes. It's heavenly: the closed room is equipped with low, dim lights, creating the illusion of being surrounded by dozens of candles. The smell of eucalyptus in the air is calming and familiar, filling your nostrils with a comforting herbal scent. Even the gentle wiring sound of the bubbling water jets is pleasant—a low, rhythmic rumble that echoes through you, dissolving the tension in every muscle.

“And that's why I booked a Tuesday morning spot,” you reply with a deep inhale, letting the perfume of the essential oils tickle your nose. Your eyes flutter open slowly, a lazy grin spreading across your lips as you glance over at him “There’s no one else here. Just us.”

The way his amber eyes twinkle with amusement leaves no doubt; he understands the implication very clearly.

Neither quite walking nor swimming, you drift towards him, the water guiding your movements until your legs brush softly against his. Leaning forward, you kiss him softly, leisurely, and he responds in kind, without any urge or signs of hurry. Had you known that a simple visit to the spa was all it took to dissolve his relentless need to be productive, you would have brought him here the day you met.

You pull away, just enough to let your breath ghost over his face, cocking your head impishly.

“Is there any space left for me to sit?” you wonder out loud with a playful grin.

He hums, pretending to be deep in thought as he looks around the completely empty room.

“I am not quite sure we can accommodate you. I will discuss with the rest of my large group of hydrotherapy enthusiasts, and we will come back to you with an answer in…” he pauses to look at an imaginary watch on his wrist, glancing up mockingly, “… five to ten business days.”

You snort, splashing him with some water to retaliate, and he laughs as he raises an arm to protect his face. It’s a contagious sound, that laugh—the kind that makes you feel light and bubbly, and that leaves you with a craving for more. You can't help kissing him again, this time messier, your tongues caught in a languid and drowsy battle of dominance.

Viktor always tastes sweet, the usual, intimate flavour of his morning sweet milk and jam toast lingering in his mouth. He’s addictive, and you’re insatiable. The thought that you want to indulge in him like dessert, to devour him, is roaring in the back of your mind persistently; but the warmth surrounding both of your bodies is making you too lethargic to quicken the pace. Instead, you opt for making the kiss more wet, pressing your chest against his.

He sighs in approval against your lips. Few things can weaken Viktor's steely focus, especially when he’s working, but your breasts are certainly one of them. He’s coy about it, but he never misses an opportunity to touch them, to rest his head on them after a hard day, to knead them with his fingers to feel their weight and hear you cry for him. The curves of your body never fail to unravel him.

He's slightly breathless when you pull away, his face tinted a pretty shade of red, highlighting just a hint of pale freckles on his cheeks. You'd make a sly remark about it, and the adorable boyish look they give him, but he'd blame it on the heat—prideful as he is.

“Would you look at that,” he comments, voice almost a sigh, eyes sparkling with hypnotic wit. “It would appear a special spot has opened up for you, right here.”

He nods casually to his lap, abandoning any pretence of innocence, and you don't hesitate for a second. You settle onto his thighs, your legs tucking snugly behind his back, locking you in place with effortless intimacy. Viktor has always revelled in the weightlessness of water, in how effortlessly his limbs move in its embrace. More than that, he loves how it lets him hold you in ways he never could on solid ground—the full weight of your body resting on his, your ass seated comfortably against his crotch.

“Lucky me,” you smile as you wrap your arms around him, the tip of your fingers tracing the sharp shapes of his back expertly. The valleys of faded scars, the slight hint of pedicle screws underneath his skin, the star-like clusters of moles—it’s all so familiar to you, a work of art you’ve studied with your touch dozens, no, hundreds of times. His hands find your waist with the same practiced ease, beckoning you closer.

It's so rare to have him like this, so wholly yours, without the weight of looming deadlines and the relentless pressure for success he places on himself. You want to enjoy this moment to its full extent, savour each second, sink into him like the notion of time itself has dissolved in these temperate waters.

But the need to enjoy him and his body to their full extent is greater; you start lightly grinding against him, letting the tidal motion of the jets bring you back and fort.

“I… am beginning to feel like you may not have brought me here out of the purest of intentions,” he smirks, voice low, his hands smoothly gliding under the fabric of your swimsuit. He squeezes the fat of your ass almost punishingly, sinking into your skin. “I thought this was meant to help my joint pain.”

“You're one to talk,” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. You grind down against him once, hard—and he immediately curses under his breath.

He loves to pretend that nothing ever gets to him, that he’s untouchable beneath his carefully crafted composure. But you know better. You know him. And right now, his body can’t keep up with the pretense that he’s unaffected: his already half-hard cock is poking you insistently under his swim trunks, and he’s not petty enough to try and deny it.

“And since when can't you multi-task?” you grin with satisfaction.

He scoffs, like he’s almost insulted, but the smile tugging on his lips sings a different tune.

“You are incorrigible,” he reprimands you, his fingers digging assertively into your supple flesh; you can tell you’ll find dark bruises there in the shapes of his digits tomorrow. A familiar pull, deep in your lower stomach, begins to make itself known, and you whine pitifully to encourage him to press harder.

“But…” he adds nonchalantly, “I did come here to relax, and I intend to do just that.”

He releases his grip on your cheeks, and you let out an indignant moan of protest. Yes, it's pathetic and shameless, but no one else is here to hear how easily you’re always ready to beg for him. And Viktor loves hearing you beg.

He tuts at your eagerness, one hand coming up to hold your chin, touch gentle, but firm, dominant, golden stare burning into you.

“I have never said you could not help me relax.”

Thank fucking God—because if the heat of the scalding vapour hadn’t made you implode soon, the cruel lack of his length inside you would have finished the job. Could anyone blame you? There’s hardly any other place in the world more steeped in romance and sensuality than a jacuzzi, the air thick with warmth and electricity. And with how Viktor's sharp gaze never draws far from your generously revealing bikini top, you know he wants you just as much as you want him.

The cherry on top? There's no one else here to prevent him from fucking you utterly stupid right inside the whirlpool.

You slide the bottom of your swimsuit to the side with little ceremony, giving his roaming hand easier access under the water. The first finger feels intimate and cozy as it pushes in, and you'd hump it with abandon if it wasn't for Viktor's other hand holding your thigh down decidedly. He seems to find your squirming amusing, toying with your walls as he observes every little tremor that goes through your body.

“Viktor…c'mon on…” you complain. You know he can feel the oily texture of lube inside you, that he can easily tell you've prepared yourself specifically for this, but the teasing has always been his favourite part, and he doesn't seem willing to part ways with it now.

“Why the hurry? Are we not allowed to stay here for another two hours?” he asks, irony laced in his voice as the long finger curves inside you with precision, and hits a peculiarly sensitive spot. You pressed your lips closed, refusing to give him more ammunition.

“So you can fuck me for the next two hours, that’s why,” you argue, biting, and he raises his free hand in surrender, the cockiness evident in his features.

“Well, who am I to deny you?

His finger vanishes almost instantly, leaving you with a vague, aching emptiness, but the promise of what you truly want coming next. His expectant gaze and deliberate stillness make it clear—he’s waiting for you to do all the heavy lifting while he simply enjoys the moment, in total control, without ever moving a muscle.

And you do just that, without a word of protest, because there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him when he looks at you with those honeyed eyes and that syrupy smile. Maneuvering quickly, you lower your thong with one hand and bring his cock out of his swimming shorts with the other, stroking his length with a firm grip as you align it with your warmth. He hums, pleased, his eyes fluttering close, and you take it as a sign to forgo any additional foreplay.

You moan in unison when he finally enters you, the stretch pleasantly different underwater than above, like the warmth makes you looser and easier to penetrate. When he’s fully inside you, the thickness of your ass flushed against his bony hips, there isn’t a single doubt in your mind this is a place you were always meant to be. In this city, in this spa, in this whirlpool, sitting on this man’s lap and filled with his cock.

Fuck, you want him. You really, really want him.

With a shaky breath, you place your hands on the solid edge behind him, ready to start bouncing up and down his length with abandon, when suddenly the sharp sound of knocking echoes through the room.

The both of you freeze, Viktor’s eyes shooting open.

A second knock. A third.

“Hello?” comes a man’s voice from the other side of the door. You gape at the thankfully still-closed entrance, your breath caught in your throat. Panic spikes through you as you whip your gaze to Viktor—only to find him utterly unfazed, his expression unreadable, as if the thought of being caught like this is of no concern to him at all.

Before you get a chance to move off him, Viktor’s hands grip your thighs, pointedly holding them down against him. You look at him with a mixture of confusion and apprehension, but his eyes hold yours challengingly, dark and lustful.

“Stay on my lap,” he whispers, voice deep.

“Viktor-” you begin, but he kisses the rest of the sentence away.

“Relax,” he shushes you, the word comforting, but his tone nothing short of a clear order. A steady hand guides your head into the crook of his neck, shielding your face from view. His voice dips lower, quiet but firm. “Don't move until I say you can.”

There’s no time left for debate; you close your eyes and bury your face deep against Viktor as you hear the door to the room slide open.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” resonates the loud voice of an older man from the entryway, the raspiness of cigarette smoke audible in his speech. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone this early, I can come back later.”

Viktor must sense how you've stiffened against him at the mere sound of the man’s voice, his fingers massaging the fat of your thighs reassuringly. You're paralyzed with fear, but you exactly deny the electric feeling that’s coursing through your body as you clench tightly around Viktor's cock, and chances are, he’s very aware of it. You can hear the smirk in his tone when he speaks up.

“No, no, there is no need for that,” Viktor replies smoothly, his tone as effortlessly composed as ever. “My jacuzzi partner has fallen quite deeply asleep. I would enjoy some light conversation.”

Oh, you piece of shit. You curse him mentally, your heart pounding in your throat. He’s effectively cut off any chance of escape, trapping you in this cruel, maddening game. The dim lighting, the bubbling jets, the shifting water—there’s almost no way the stranger could see anything beneath the surface. Almost. And that’s exactly the thrill Viktor is playing with.

It’s not about certainty; it’s about the maybe—the razor-thin chance that you could get caught if you so much as shift, if you make even the faintest sound. And that knowledge, the unbearable tension of it, is exactly what he’s savouring. You feel him throb against your walls, clearly pleased with the way the situation is unfolding as you hear the stranger’s footsteps draw closer to the whirlpool. You hear the faint splash of movement, then feel it—the ripple of the water shifting around you as the man steps in. Your breath stills, every nerve in your body on high alert, yet Viktor stays maddeningly still, as if he’s about to engage in a friendly little chat and not balls deep inside you right underneath the surface.

He's effortlessly turned you into a glorified cockwarmer, a pretty cocksleeve who can do nothing, but take him silently as he begins casually chatting with the older man. He’s a fucking evil genius.

“Nothin’ better to relax than this, that’s what I always say,” the stranger boasts. “I can stay hours without moving a muscle.”

Viktor hums, thoughtful, his grip just a little firmer, as if you needed any more reminders that he’s completely in control of you right now. “Actually, that sounds like a nice idea,” he muses, his voice smooth, lazy. “I think I will try doing that myself.”

You can’t see the expression on his face, but really you don’t need to. You can feel the amusement radiating from him, the twitching of his rock-hard cock deeply nestled into you. And as the stranger settles in, oblivious, you realize that Viktor has absolutely no intention of letting you move anytime soon.

🌸 Taglist Darlings 🌸: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth , @raynoway , @just1cefor4ll , @lovebugintardis

Tip a Coffee ☕: ko-fi.com/lefruitdelapassion

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

ɪᴛꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴘᴛ 2 ໑ ׄ ۪ ݁ ⑅ (방찬)

pairing: christopher bahng x fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers

summary: based off of its nice to have a friend by taylor swift

tags/warnings: chris is literally feeding a squirrel at the beginning, hes extroverted, reader is introverted, not proofread,

a/n: bye its giving my fine shyt

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 ??

Friendship with Chan sneaks up on you.

You don’t mark the moment you go from strangers to something else—it just happens quietly, like a soft song playing under a conversation. One day he’s the boy who calls your name across the quad. The next, he’s the one sitting beside you every Thursday afternoon like it’s tradition.

You’ve never said it out loud. You never needed to.

You’re friends now. That much is clear.

You know this because he always saves you a seat at the long table in the student center, even when he’s surrounded by his louder friends. You know this because he makes playlists and titles them things like “for rainy library days 🌧️” and sends them to you without saying a word.

You know because he texts you the night before a group project is due—not to ask for help, but just to check in.

hey, you good? just felt like asking :) also reminder: hydrate

You smile at your phone, every time.

You never tell him that no one really checks in on you like that. You don’t have to. He somehow knows.

When you're with him, you're a quieter version of yourself—but it never feels like too little.

Chan is bright, but never blinding.

He talks easily, laughs often, and never tries to fill your silences with noise. He’s the kind of extrovert who invites you into the light but never yanks you from the shadows.

You think that’s rare.

You think he’s rare.

Which is probably why you’ve started noticing the little things.

Like how he tugs the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands when he’s tired. Or how he taps a beat on his thigh when he’s thinking. Or how he smiles at you a little differently than he does at anyone else.

You don’t let yourself read into it too much.

But sometimes, when the sun hits his hair just right and he calls you Snowbird in that soft, teasing voice—you do.

It’s Friday afternoon when he shows up at your dorm with a bag of snacks and a look of triumph.

“We’re watching a movie,” he announces. “It’s friendship law.”

You raise a brow, leaning on your doorframe. “That a real law?”

“Definitely. Article three, paragraph seven. ‘Friends must watch at least one feel-good movie per week or suffer the consequences of emotional repression.’”

You stare.

He grins.

“…Fine,” you mumble, pretending to sigh.

He follows you in, already opening the chips.

You sit on the floor with pillows. The laptop is balanced on an upside-down laundry basket. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm. Familiar. Safe.

You don’t talk much during the movie, but you share glances at the funny lines. He snorts soda up his nose once and spends the next three minutes apologizing dramatically while you try not to choke on your laughter.

And then, somewhere near the end—your hands touch in the popcorn bowl.

Neither of you pulls away.

You walk with him the next morning.

Not because you planned to. You just happened to be leaving at the same time.

You tell yourself that, anyway.

The air is cool but not cold. The sky is pale and wide. You both linger near the edge of the quad, standing under the early bloom of a dogwood tree.

“You’ve got something,” he says, reaching out.

Your breath catches.

He brushes a petal from your hair. His fingers linger—just barely—at your temple. Then drop.

“There.” His voice is soft. Smiling.

You look away before you melt.

You tell yourself he’s just being friendly.

That’s what friends do. They check in. They share playlists. They brush petals out of each other’s hair.

Right?

But then you catch the way he looks at you when you’re not watching. Like he’s memorizing something.

You hear the way his voice changes when he says your name. Like it matters more than the rest of the sentence.

And once, when you're both at the café and he sees someone flirting with you from across the room—his hand finds the small of your back. Light. Protective. Wordless.

It stays there for a second too long.

So maybe…

Maybe it’s not just you.

One rainy afternoon, you both end up at the art building.

You’re there to kill time. He’s there to return a borrowed ukulele. Somehow, you both stay.

The music room is empty, warm with leftover echoes.

He sits at the baby grand in the corner, fingers testing chords. You watch from a stool near the door, curled in your hoodie.

“Wanna hear something I wrote?” he asks, not turning.

You nod before you realize he can’t see you. But he plays anyway.

It’s soft. Pretty. Unfinished, but thoughtful.

When it ends, you don’t say anything right away.

Then, quietly: “That was beautiful.”

He turns, surprised.

And when he sees your expression—earnest, a little shy—he blushes.

He actually blushes.

You store that moment somewhere deep in your chest, behind your ribs, where soft things go to stay warm.

That night, as you sit on your bed with your journal open and your heart full, you find yourself writing it down.

Chris’s song. Soft chords. Quiet courage. He blushes when I say what I mean.

You don’t know what this is between you yet.

But it feels like something.

And you think—maybe he feels it too.

Chan is in trouble.

Not real trouble—he’s not about to flunk out or get arrested or crash a car or anything—but emotional trouble.

The soft, slow, creeping kind.

The Oh no, I think I really like my friend kind.

He’s not sure when it happened. Somewhere between that snowy day with the squirrel and the third time you shared a croissant without asking. Somewhere between the first time he made you laugh and the first time you leaned into his side just slightly when it got cold.

He’s always liked your quiet.

Not the awkward kind—just…peaceful. Steady. Like you listen before you speak. Like your world is built on stillness and sharp observations.

He noticed it the first time you said his name like it meant something.

Now he wants to hear it all the time.

Chan’s not smooth, not really. He jokes a lot. Fills the space. Hopes you don’t notice the way he watches you from across the room when you’re not looking.

He tells himself he’s being smart by not saying anything.

Why risk it? You’re close. You trust him. He gets to know you in a way most people don’t.

But sometimes, when you smile at him like he’s made your day a little better…

It feels a lot like falling.

He’s pretty sure he already has.

hope you enjoyed <33

todays playlist...

hotline bling by drake, laplace's angels by will wood, virtual angel by artms, best friend by doja cat and saweetie, bite by mad tsai, super smash bros by yung gravy and bbno$, ssick by stray kids, if i can't have you by shawn mendes, blind spot by stray kids, dimple by bts, polaroid love by enhypen, crazy by le sserafim, beggin by maneskin, sweetest pie by megan thee stallion and dua lipa

*bold is explicit*

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas @jisunggy @me-on-a-archive @hyunjiiza @hyuneskkami @highway-143 @hvseunq143 @chimmyn0chu @sadeeeeee @qwonyoung23 @jesuisstay

series/perm taglist is open! please comment/send an ask/dm if you would like to be added <3

[lizthewriter]

messy / regina george

PAIRING  regina george x fem!reader

SUMMARY  you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.

TAGS  regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)

QUOTE  "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp

WRITTEN  1.13.2024

WORD COUNT  1.3K

A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."

slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.

she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?

you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.

you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.

"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.

"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.

"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.

-

fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?

you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.

you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.

"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.

when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.

a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.

"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.

"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.

the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.

you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.

when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.

"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."

"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.

"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"

"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."

"regina -"

"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.

"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."

"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."

[crowsofdarkness]

The Void: One

-gif not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x BlackWidow!Enhanced!Reader

Content Warnings: violence, language, blood, angst, and 18+ smut.

Summary: Hydra used her as a weapon, then, becoming one of the original widows, Zima was ready to live the rest of her days in hiding. When someone from her Red Room past comes looking to cash in on a favor, she has no choice but to strap up to face this new enemy threatening New York. Even if one of the people asking for her help was the one who trained her in Hydra, the one whom she swore she would kill the next time she saw him. The Winter Soldier. The only problem? Bucky doesn't remember her.

Authors Note: this series will take place during Thunderbolts*, so I don't think it will be a long series. It is a reader insert, but "Zima" is the name she went by in the Red Room and Hydra due to her white hair. according to Google Translate, Zima means winter. tags are open!

Tags: @lisiliely @muchwita @tellybearryyyy @fries11 @multifandomgirl2018

Bucky let out a long sigh while pinching his eyes shut, the background chatter nearly grating on his ears. This was supposed to be a quick pick up and then he could bring this group of people back home so he could use them against Val in her trial. The jet was set to land in about five minutes but part of him feared he wouldn’t make it that long with all the chattering. Not to mention, his phone conversation with Mel and what Yelena had just finished telling him, Bucky’s mind was heavy with a new plan. 

“Alright, so explain this plan again,” Bucky said after freeing everyone. 

“Val has plans on using Bob as a new weapon. You didn’t see what we did, Bucky,” Yelena said with a voice thick of regret. “We need to stop Val and save Bob.” 

It was evident that she felt this need to protect Bob which is why Bucky ended up agreeing to this. Out of everyone in this new group, he only knew Walker and even then he was a bit hesitant to work with him. But he couldn’t simply walk away from this. Unfortunately for all of them, they were a group of rejects compared to the other heroes that had been attempting to save the world since The Avengers went their separate ways. At the thought of Steve, Bucky’s heart sank knowing that he would never see nor talk to his best friend again. 

It had been nearly five years since Steve left him and it was something Bucky was still dealing with. Yes, he had Sam but with him busy being the new Captain America, Bucky always found himself alone. He’d go home to his nice house in the quiet suburbs, stay in an empty house, and try not to let the past memories drag him down to the darkness. 

Bucky was so tired of being alone. So fucking tired of walking into an empty house with no one to talk with about his day. The cold bed and even colder atmosphere often reminded him of when Hydra would keep him frozen for long periods of time. Bucky wouldn’t admit this to anyone, let alone the Thunderbolts, but he was exhausted from pretending to be okay when the past began haunting him whenever he slept. 

For a long time, the nightmares of what he did in Hydra stopped. Until recently. About a month ago, they started up again only this time it wasn't what he did but more so, who he was with during that. Never once did he see a face, the only thing he saw was a shadow figure with white hair and piercing eyes. Every time he dreamed of this figure, their name would be on the tip of his tongue only never getting the chance to utter it because he woke up right before. There was this feeling of familiarity filling his heart whenever he awoke from one of those nightmares but whenever he tried to remember who this figure was, it was as if the memories locked themselves up into a vault. 

“How sure are you that we can stop Val and this Sentry?” Bucky asked with his hands low on hips, forcing himself not to think more of his lonely life at home. 

“Bob,” Yelena corrected. 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Bob.” 

“He’s strong,” Ava said, everyone agreeing with her. “It’s going to be hard for all of us. If I’m being honest, I don’t think we’ll be able to do it with the five of us.”

“What do you mean? This is a team of super soldiers,” Walker said with a smug smile. 

Ava rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t flatter yourself.” 

As those two bickered with each other, Alexi couldn’t stop hiding his grin while he stared at everyone in this makeshift team. Yelena on the other hand, wore a frown so deep Bucky was afraid it would etch into her skin. She was pacing the length of the abandoned gas station garage while running a hand through her hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky questioned. 

“We need someone else, someone that can help us to save Bob,” she held up a finger, not stopping her pacing. 

“Do you know anyone? Maybe an old Avenger or something?” Walker asked, joining the conversation after bickering with Ava. 

Yelena shook her head. “No, not an old Avenger. But someone else.” 

Everyone waited for her to say who but Yelena kept pacing while muttering something under her breath. 

“The thing is, I haven’t spoken to her in years, not since I was in the Red Room. She was the only one of the widows that were enhanced which made her useful in certain situations. Not only that, she was the original widow. Dreykov brought her in after her old organization threw her out.” 

Something inside of Bucky fluttered but he quickly pushed down the unknown feeling as Alexi and Yelena shared a look, making Bucky shift on his feet. 

“What is it? What was her old organization?” 

Alexi ran a hand over his beard with a long sigh. “Maybe you should sit down, Bucky.”

“Who was her old organization?” He asked again, this time staring directly at Yelena. 

“Hydra,” she answered with zero hesitation. 

Bucky’s body went rigid as his vibranium arm began to burn at where the old, matted scars were on his shoulder. Granted some of his memories during his time in Hydra were still a jumbled mess inside of his head, he couldn’t ever recall someone else being held there with him so it had to have been on another Hydra base. One he wasn’t held at. 

Everyone fell silent for a moment before Alexi broke the silence. “Yelena, we’d be wasting time chasing a ghost. Zima has not been seen in over ten years, not since Dreykov died.” 

Zima. 

Bucky flinched at hearing the name, flash images of the shadow figure with white hair appeared in his line of vision, nearly knocking him on his ass. He held out a hand against the wall to his left to steady himself. He’d never heard of this name before so why did it feel like someone had been repeatedly stabbing his brain over and over again? With clenched teeth, Bucky rubbed his temples hoping that would ease away the growing headache. But the burning didn’t go away, it only got stronger the more they talked about Zima. 

“What’s to say this Zima chick will even help us?” Walker raised a good point, placing his shield over his back. 

“She owes me a favor,” Yelena shrugged as if she already knew this Zima would agree. 

When the burning finally subsided for a moment, Bucky slowly opened his eyes. “Do you even know where to find her?” 

“According to another widow, they saw her in a market square three weeks ago. Seems like she traded being a serial assassin for being a gardener.” 

Just then, their attention had been pulled to the large jet that landed right in the middle of the desert about twenty feet away from their hideout. Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating on if this plan was a good idea. Even though he didn’t know who this Zima was, there was a pestering voice in his head telling him not to do it. 

“Do we even have time for a side quest?” Walker asked. 

“We have to make time if we want to stop Val and save Bob,” Yelena said as if we didn’t really have a choice. 

Opening the garage door, Bucky and the others gathered all of their things before walking towards the jet. 

“Back to D.C, Congressmen Barnes?” The pilot asked as he opened the ramp of the jet, allowing them inside. 

Bucky glanced over to Yelena who simply patted the pilot's chest. “Change of plans. We’re headed to Greece.”

READER A.K.A ZIMA

On a remote part of Gavdos island, south of Crete, Greece. 

I hummed a soft tune to myself as I worked tirelessly in my garden, the setting sun burning against my bare shoulders. My skin and clothes were covered in dirt and sweat. Thankfully I’d tied my long white hair back in a tight braid so it stayed out of my face, albeit a few strands had fallen free due to my constant work all day. The idea of washing away today’s filth and then sitting in front of the fireplace with my kindle brought a smile to my tired face. 

It’s the same thing I’ve done almost every day since I moved here about two years ago. Work on my small cottage style home on this hidden part of the island then reward myself with a good book. Every so often, I would venture out to the town whether it be to buy groceries or get a cup of coffee. But given where I came from and who I was, I opted not to be seen in public unless absolutely necessary. 

I’d been in hiding for the last ten years, moving every two so I wasn’t in the same place for long. I had a very heavy past, I hurt and killed many due to Dreykov’s orders, so I was sure someone would want revenge. Not to mention I’d run from Hydra before my time in the Red Room but with Dreykov, I’d been protected. When he died, that wasn’t the case anymore so I knew I needed to hide. I knew Hydra fell years ago but I couldn’t be too sure. 

By now, I would have moved to a different country to start a new life but as time went on here, I found myself building a life and a home. Something I hadn’t done in previous places. 

Rising from my garden, my old bones popped back into place as I stretched my tired limbs. Staring off into the distance, I could see the waves of the ocean lapping up against the beach that was just below the cliffs edge at my property. I was the only one living on this part of the island which while it did make for some lonely times, it was a peaceful solace. 

“Maybe I’ll go for a swim tomorrow,” I told myself before dusting my dirty hands on my grey overalls and began packing up all of my gardening tools. 

As I stepped out of my shed, something in the air felt off causing me to stiffen, the tips of my fingers burnings. Electricity charged then sparked to life creating lightning at my fingertips as I whirled around on my heels, coming face to face with someone I hadn’t seen in a very long time. 

“Well, good to know those still work.” 

I blinked with parted lips, trying to gather if the person in front of me was actually here. 

“Yelena?” I asked, still unsure. 

The blonde, with much shorter hair since I saw her last, smiled brightly at me. “Long time no see, Zima. How are things?” 

I shrugged, still letting the lightning charge my finger tips. “Can’t complain.” 

“Oh, I love fresh bread!” 

Snapping my head to the right, I glared at the person who stalked out of my house with a mouthful of fresh bread, the red leather suit three sizes too small for him. 

“The Red Guardian,” I clicked my tongue. “I didn’t realize this was a Red Room reunion. 10 years goes by so fast, huh?” 

Alexi sat down on one of the chairs on the front porch while Yelena took a tentative step closer towards me. She looked like she’d been through absolute hell and the exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders. 

“We need your help,” she said. 

The lightning charged even more now in my finger tips, crackling into the air. “Why the fuck would I help you?” 

“You owe me a favor and you were always good at returning those favors,” she stated matter of factly. 

I cursed, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Back when we were in the Red Room together, Yelena helped me with something I refused to talk about even to this day. I told her if she ever needed my help, I’d be there no questions asked. 

I just didn’t think it would take her ten years to cash in on that favor. I thought she’d forgotten by now, given everything that happened with Natasha. Even though I’d been in hiding, I still kept up to date with current events like her sister dying and the snap. Thankfully, I’d been one who survived the snap. 

Letting out a breath, I curtly nodded, ready to agree but halted for a moment. “You said we. As in you and Alexi?” 

“No,” Alexi chuckled, wiping the crumbs off his lap. “We as in the Thunderbolts.” 

I raised a brow, looking back at Yelena, who was trying her hardest not to hide her face behind her hands. 

"The Thunderbolts?” I questioned. 

All of a sudden, the lightning at my fingertips seemed to have intensified when an all too familiar presence loomed behind me. I knew this presence anywhere. I’d spent countless nights with this presence during my time in Hydra. My powers were created in order to bring this presence his deepest pain. This presence was the sole reason why I ran from Hydra. 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I locked eyes with the familiar pair of blue ones that belonged to The Winter Soldier. 

“Hi,” he gave me a small smile. “I’m Bucky-.” 

Before he could finish his sentence, I shot him with a large strip of lightning, it bouncing off of his vibranium arm and lighting up the now dark skies. 

[polaroidpascal]

lunch box || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : joel miller x f!reader

summary : joel’s stubbornness has him working at ungodly hours on your saturday morning. you decide to do something nice for him, but of course he would realize your absence in bed, especially so early when you’re supposed to be off…

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, reader briefly gets picked up and carried, no outbreak, domestic life with joel, sarah and ellie briefly mentioned, joel is mid-to-late-30s, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex (practice safe ofc!!), joel being big slightly mentioned once, lots of talking and praise (my man cannot shut up), creampie, cum eating (reader teasing joel lol), general sweetness from them both <3

WC : 2.7k

a/n : this is the first fic i've ever written and posted so enjoy !! :)

Ever since you met, you knew that Joel was the one. Talking with him is easy, like your souls have known each other in every lifetime. Being in his presence is safe and comforting. He feels like home. On top of that, after you had been seeing each other for a while and he let you meet Ellie and Sarah, they made you feel so welcome in their family. Life just makes sense with them.

Joel has been a contractor all his life. Even though he can set his own hours, he prefers to start working early so he can be home with his daughters when they finish school. Today — a Saturday — was weird, though. The project he had been working on needed to be rescheduled because of weather, but Joel decided to keep his hours the same. You could tell he didn’t really want to get up so early on a Saturday, but his stubbornness forbade him from changing that. Last night as you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing he would probably not have time to get lunch tomorrow, you decided you would do something nice for him. 

Sarah and Ellie spent their Friday night away at a friend’s house (which you and Joel definitely took advantage of the night before), and the house is eerily quiet when you stir awake in the wee hours of your Saturday morning. You can feel Joel’s sturdy arms draped over your sides, his entire body pressed against your back as if he’s scared you’ll float away if he doesn’t keep you close. You hear his slow, sleepy breathing in your ear and you know he’s still dead asleep. Carefully, you lift his heavy arms from you and slip out of his grip, kindly replacing yourself with a pillow, and resting his arm back down. 

He stirs to adjust a bit and settles once again. Success.

You head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, Joel's life support in a cup, and pull out the things you need to make his lunch. After, you head back to the bedroom to grab a comfy change of clothes. You wait out the brewing with a quick shower hoping it’s less noisy than you think it might be. 

While you shower, Joel stirs awake a little before his alarm. He shuts it off to avoid the noise and turns back over seeking your figure — but you’re gone. Confused and still groggy, he gets up searching for you. He hears the shower running and…

Is that… singing?

He puts his ear up to the door and hears you faintly singing the songs he plays on his guitar for you, trying to be as quiet as you can. His heart swells at your beautiful sound and he almost opens the door to join you, but then the smell of coffee begins to fill his nose. He walks into the kitchen to see the last drips fall into the pot and the ingredients for a hearty sandwich sitting on the counter. Putting two and two together, he nearly tears up realizing your plans and decides to sit to the side and wait for you, not wanting to ruin your surprise.

You throw on your comfy silk pajama shorts and one of Joel’s old band t-shirts that swallow you up and return to the kitchen.

You don’t notice Joel at all.

He watches silently from the dark living room as you pour a glass of coffee for him into his favorite owl mug and glide around the kitchen putting his lunch together. He admires your freshly washed hair, already air drying a little bit, the way his t-shirt, oversized on you, drapes over your curves perfectly, and how you continue quietly humming his songs. A small fire ignites deep inside of him, and as you turn around to pack his food, he rises from his chair.

He silently saunters over stealing two big sips of the coffee you poured for him. You hear the cup clink lightly on the counter and turn around just as his big hands glide over your hips, embracing you from behind. “And here I was thinking I was surprising you,” you tease as his face buries into your neck, his naked torso pressed completely against you.

He chuckles. “You did, angel. I just saw it before you were ready, ‘s all.” He kisses and nips your earlobe and you mewl at the sensation. He trails down to your neck while his hands gently guide your hips back into his, feeling him start to grow through his plaid pajama pants.

“Joel…”, you whisper as you turn around in his embrace to kiss him. You find his hungry lips waiting to invite you in. He tastes deliciously like the coffee you made for him and you hum contentedly at it. Your hands trace his bare sides and chest all the way up to his hair, and you run your fingers through his messy locks.

As if he’s not stiff from sleeping, he hoists you up from the floor carrying you as you straddle him, hands still dancing through his hair, and brings you to the couch. Without breaking your kiss for even just a second, he puts you down laying on top of you as you descend, a comfortable weight that he knows you love to feel. His kiss melts into yours and your lips feel like they become one. He breaks away despite your protesting whine and quietly teases, “You know you didn’t have to get up so early on your day off just ‘cause of me, right? I’d probably have time later to pick somethin’ up,” and his lips fall back to yours, one of his hands coming up to tease your breast.

You moan softly, “Well, with your luck, today would be the one day you wouldn’t find time. Besides, I felt like surprising you.” You smile coyly at him and watch as his pupils grow somehow even bigger at you.

He stares for a second trying to figure out how he got so lucky finding you, and a smile threatens to erupt at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so sweet, you might give me a cavity.”

Your chuckle is cut off by a small gasp as he kisses a line down your neck, his beard ghosting your collarbone. Once he reaches the collar of your — well, his — shirt, he descends lower, sticking his whole head under the shirt that engulfs you. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and you gasp again. His tongue moves firmly over the growing bud at a quickening pace. “Yes, Joel…” you whimper, then suddenly whine as he bites you, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue.

His free hand rises up to replace his mouth as he moves over to give your other side the same treatment. You pant from both movements happening simultaneously, him drawing out more whimpers and moans from you. You squirm underneath him accidentally grazing his own growing member and he groans, already painfully hard for you. His sounds send a sudden rush of heat straight to your core. He continues at your nipple, one bite in particular causing you to cry out and you could swear you feel his cock twitch against you as he moans in reply, another rush of arousal already flooding within you again.

He kisses a line down your chest, down your stomach, until his hands find the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread making room for his broad frame as he drags your panties and shorts down, seamlessly replacing them with soft yet hungry kisses where they once sat. He tosses them to the side, licking and kissing his way back up your thighs, nipping at the sensitive inner skin.

Joel’s eyes practically look pitch black, his pupils so blown out with lust, when you see him eyeing your throbbing core and he groans.

“Good lord, sweetheart,” is all he can manage as he admires you glistening for him. His eyes trail up your body. He could come just from the sight of you: legs spread eagerly, eyelids heavy, pupils just as blown as his own, desire written on your face in big bold letters…

And you see how desperate he looks for you, but a sly smirk quickly spreads across his face, “Bet you taste even sweeter than you act.”

Unable to control his hunger any longer, he fiercely licks one broad, flattened stroke up your middle, tasting the fruits of his labor. He moans at your taste, sending vibrations over your clit. You let out a cry of pleasure and his hips subconsciously rut into the couch, desperately seeking some relief for himself. His tongue glides through your folds, broad strokes accompanied by tight circles around your clit and the occasional dip inside…

“Fuck, Joel!” you cry as he focuses at your hole, his thumb replacing his tongue at your clit drawing tight, fast circles as his tongue dips in and out of you. “Oh my god… yes, please… feels so…”

He can only moan in response, sending lightning through your body with every sound he makes. “Please… oh, my g-… don’t stop, Joel… I’m so close…”

He can feel your impending release and between gasps for air, he practically begs, “Let it go, angel… that’s it… come all over my face… doin’ so good for me…”

His words send you hurdling over the edge as you come — hard. Your hips drive up into his face, head dipped back, crying out in pleasure. Joel refuses to let one drop go to waste, lapping up your slick like an animal. He licks you through your orgasm until the aftershocks and twitching die down some. Then he rises back up to your face. “Taste so good for me…” he says as he kisses you deep, lips and beard soaked. You moan from his taste; like coffee but with a sweet hint of you mixed in, and he swallows every little sound.

He breaks from your lips, your foreheads touching and lips barely ghosting over each other. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, darling,” he whispers as he reaches down to free his cock from his pajama pants.

“Please…” you beg, eyes lazily gazing into his own. “Fuck me, please.”

He looks deep into your eyes as he rubs up and down your heat, coating himself and he slides in without any problem, going slow when you gasp so your body can adjust to his size. But your body seems to draw him in, swallowing him whole and pulling him into you deeper and deeper. “My god…” he gasps as he feels the lingering spasms of your soft walls choking his cock.

You can only manage to whine in response, your eyes silently begging him to move, and he obeys. He begins slowly moving in and out, already embarrassingly close to his own climax, but he desperately wants to feel you unravel on him. Gradually, he finds his pace, bottoming out inside of you over and over and over. Refusing to break eye contact with you, his free hand dips down seeking your clit as he furiously traces tight, swift, calculated circles round and round.

Your eyes bolt shut at the feeling of him filling you up and teasing your clit. You’re well past the point of forming full sentences, and he can tell. Breathlessly, he tries to coax more from you, “Look so pretty taking my cock, angel… so good… fuck, you feel so good… ‘m not gonna last, sweetheart…” His pace is unpredictable, plowing into you for a few thrusts and then slowing down to a near stop to avoid finishing too early. “Need you — oh, fuck… god, almighty… n-need you to come for me, darling… please…”

As he begs for your release and his hips begin to falter, he finds that spot that only he has ever been able to find within you, rapidly sending you over the edge again. Your walls constrict suffocating his cock. You writhe and whine, almost unable to even make a sound.

He works you through your orgasm, his own rapidly approaching as he watches your eyes roll back from pure bliss. “Yeah, just like that, gorgeous… shit, you’re soaking me… fuck me, dripping everywhere… fuck… Oh my god, I’m—”

He cuts himself off with his own grunting and groaning as he begins to paint your walls with his come. He whines and gasps, bottoming out with every wave of his orgasm until his cock twitches for the last time. He collapses over you, crushing you in the best way with his weight as he tucks his face into your neck. You’re both panting, your chests crashing into each other as you come down from your highs and try to recover.

Joel finally softens enough to pull away without completely overstimulating himself, grunting as he rolls off of you and brings you to your side, spooning you and leaving small, tender kisses on your neck. His hand rests over your waist just as it did when you awoke this morning, and you lay there for a little while your heartbeats return to a normal pace.

You feel his come slowly leak out with his absence but you don’t even care. Being in his embrace washes away any other thought from your brain. All you can care to think about is the strong man clinging to you as he comes back down to Earth, holding you close and never letting go. You’re listening to his breath trying to fill his lungs once more and feeling his raging heartbeat through his chest and against your back. This is your personal heaven. Wishing you could live in this moment forever, you close your eyes and savor the feeling in all its glory.

You feel your body threatening to drift back asleep, but one particularly deep and content sigh from Joel reminds you that he is, in fact, supposed to be leaving for work. Glancing at the clock, you gently remind him of the time, your smile audible as you say, “You have just enough time to clean up and put on your clothes. Good thing your lunch is already packed.”

He gives a breathy chuckle and hesitantly gets up with that classic dad groan he always gives. Even though all he would really like to do is spend the rest of eternity lying right here on this couch in this moment with you, duty calls. He glances between your legs and sees the mess he made. You catch a glimpse of his look, his ferocious blushing visible even in the dimly lit room as he stares quite obviously at your middle. 

Feeling particularly mischievous, you reach down to collect what you can, scooping it up as it coats your fingers. Joel’s mouth drops open in a stupor, watching in disbelief as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick your digits clean. You unmistakingly see his breath hitch at the sight and know that if time weren’t the major issue right now, he would pounce on the opportunity for round two.

“Goddamn, angel…” he says shakily, still in utter disbelief. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re lucky I have a job to go do,” he tells you with a dazed, fucked-out look and tone as he retreats to the bedroom to attempt to get ready for work. You get up and slip into the bathroom to clean yourself up some more before returning to the couch exactly the way he had left you. 

Emerging from your bedroom dressed with lunch in hand, he spots you drifting off back to sleep and walks over to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. Before you completely succumb to the drowsiness, you manage a soft and sweet, “I love you.”

He smiles and bends back down to plant another, longer kiss right to your lips and whispers back, “I love you more.”

He sees you smile at that before he turns for the door and quietly leaves for work, already counting down the minutes of his shift left before he can come back home to you.

>> PART 2

[miniseokminnies]

hashtag black heart —- l.sm

𖦹 pairing: lee seokmin x f!reader 𖦹 theme: camboy!seokmin, roommates to lovers 𖦹 w/c: 2.8k 𖦹 warnings: 18+ MDNI, online dynamics, oral sex [f. receiving], pet names, praise kink, lots of whining, embarrassing moments, one awful date (not with seokmin), unprotected sex (that's a no no) 𖦹 a/n: shout out to that anon that pitched something similar to me a while back but i lost the ask ;-; huge thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for jumping at the opportunity to beta this monstrosity for me 𖦹 tags: @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi

You should really stop letting your friends convince you to do things.  The decisions they talk you into are questionable at best.  Like that time Soonyoung convinced you that it would be easy to raid your parents’ liquor cabinet and go on a “bender” before walking across the stage at graduation.  The problem with this plan was that your older brother had already tried it and replaced the alcohol with apple juice successfully.  This didn’t stop Soonyoung from swearing he was drunk and embarrassing himself in front of your entire class and their families while taking his diploma from your principal an hour after sipping warm apple juice from the mouth of a whiskey bottle.

Soonyoung (and his girlfriend, Jenna) was once again the driving force behind your poor decision today as well.  He knew this “great guy” from one of his dance classes in college and seemed to think the two of you would really hit it off.  After confirming this with Jenna, who agreed that he was a nice guy with similar interests to you, you hesitantly agreed to go on a date with him.  

 That’s how you ended up in the most awkward situation you have ever encountered.  After almost an hour of disappointing heavy petting, he came in his pants and drove you home. He told you to call him, as if that would ever happen. You slid your keys into the lock and did a quick check of your apartment to see if your roommate (another person Soonyoung introduced you to) was home.    

Once you had confirmed that he was not home, you slipped into your room and locked the door behind you.  Quietly, like you were keeping a secret from even yourself, you settled under your covers and unlocked your phone.  You click on the folder with a little black heart beneath it and swipe past three pages of apps before you get to the one you’re looking for.  The page loads quickly and you scroll through the homepage, full of cam boys on full display until one in particular catches your eye. 

He wasn’t live, you never seem to catch him as he kept a strange schedule.  You didn’t mind, it somehow felt less shameful to watch the recordings of his live streams than actually getting off to someone touching themselves on the other side of a screen in real time.  The page was active recently, the newest video having an indicator saying that it was streamed three hours ago, while you were out on your terrible date. 

You tap the video and your screen is filled with the view of his toned abs. The other thing you like about this one in particular is that he remains completely anonymous.  His face is always out of frame, apart from a few videos where you caught a glimpse of his lips, these were your favorite ones.       

You watched the screen intently as he lifted his hand and trailed it down the sea of tan skin in the frame, moving lower and lower.  His long fingers wrapped around his stiff cock lightly, and you hear his breath hitch behind the camera as he begins to stroke himself slowly. The sounds of his pleasure went straight to your core, you could feel the heat begin to pool in your stomach.  The man on your phone began to swipe the precum from his weeping slit and work it down his shaft.      

You placed a hand over your own breast and tweaked your nipple over your shirt.  The cam boy on your screen whined breathily as you both worked yourselves up.  You watched him as he sped up his strokes, and your mouth went dry as the arousal dripped in your panties. Your fingers trailed down your own body, just as the man’s did a few minutes ago, painfully slowly.  Your fingers dipped into your underwear.  More noises were coming from your phone now, and you’ve watched this man enough to know that he was getting close.  

His hands were so pretty, so gentle and slender, you just knew he would be able to reach places inside of you that you couldn’t.  You inserted two fingers into yourself and sighed.  Pumping slowly, still working yourself towards your high, you looked back at your screen.  He was fucking up into his fist now, sloppily chasing his high.  At the visual you all but threw your phone on your bed in favor of using that hand to stimulate your own clit.  You could still hear the sound of his skin and his breathless moans from your phone speaker, and at this point, that was enough.  

You began to lose control and buck your hips to the rhythm.  The coil in your stomach was tightening and threatening to snap.  Your own moans bounced off the walls of your bedroom as you rock yourself against your fingers and circle the bundle of nerves. The coil snaps as your sounds mix with his, your vision explodes into fireworks as your orgasm ripples through your body.  You ride your fingers through the pleasure.  

After a few minutes of this you grab for your phone to exit out of the video, but not before looking at the man on the screen, spent and covered in his own cum.  The visual is almost enough to make you want to go again, but you forced yourself to close out and go get cleaned up.   

You returned to your room a few minutes later and began to scroll through your food delivery apps, since you could not be bothered with cooking tonight.  The problem was that absolutely nothing you could order sounded appetizing right now.  You let out a frustrated sigh and flopped back on your bed.  You stared at your ceiling for several minutes.  

A series of knocks on your bedroom startled you.  

“Y/N!” Your roommate called.  “I’m making dinner, want in?” You scrambled up and unlocked the door.  His hand was still raised from when he knocked.  

“I very much want in.” 

“Okay,” he laughed.  You have lived with him for the last six months, before that you lived with Soonyoung.  When he and Jenna got serious she asked him to move in and he practically jumped at the opportunity.  He was a considerate roommate and an even better friend, so he stayed until it was time to renew the lease.  You were worried about affording the apartment by yourself, so he came up with a solution for that too.  The solution was named Seokmin, and you had no idea who he was.  

Luckily for Seokmin, you tend to just go along with things Soonyoung suggests, and you had no other friends needing a place to live.  So, Seokmin it was.  He was a good roommate.  He mostly kept to himself, but there are some days where he invited you to dinner in the living room. 

“What are we having?” You ask, leaning against the counter.  

“We have a frozen pizza.” He shrugged.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed sarcastically and moved to preheat the oven. 

“Movie?” 

“Sure, pick whatever.” You rifle through the fridge, “Beer?”        

“You read my mind,” he called from the small living room.  You grabbed one for each of you.  He was sitting on the couch flipping through movies on Netflix.  Plopping down next to him you held the bottle out to him.  You watched him wrap his fingers around the neck of the bottle, the grip looked familiar.  Almost as if you saw those fingers around something else just an hour ago—

“Oh my God!” You gasped.  

“What?” He turned to you frantically, “What happened?”   

“I–” you sputtered, “The Queen of England died.” 

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at you, “Like three years ago.” 

“Yeah,” you scrambled up off the couch, “Crazy! I’ll be right back!” You didn’t give him time to respond before you were practically running to the bathroom.  You threw on the sink and splashed water in your face.  Okay, so, you just touched yourself to a video of your roommate, a video that he uploaded online, one of many.  Your shy, considerate, admittedly cute roommate is a camboy, your favorite camboy.   

You avoided Seokmin for the next week.  You could not look at him, now that you knew what he sounded like when he came.  When you did catch glimpses of him, before hurrying away to your room, you were more and more sure of the fact that it was him.  His gorgeous lips were burned into your memory from the first time you saw them.  You’re honestly surprised you didn’t put two and two together earlier.  The fact that you knew he only ever went live when you weren’t home, that didn’t help his case.    

You pulled your knees to your chest and opened that folder with the black heart.  Against your better judgement you went straight to his page, something you hadn’t done since that day.  You scrolled through all of the streams, his body looking delicious in each one.  You squeezed your thighs together, you cannot be doing this right now, or ever again.  The sound of a key turning in the front door of your apartment made you throw your phone to the other end of the couch as if it was hot to the touch.  Seokmin spotted you before you had the chance to run from him this time.  

“Hey!” He exclaimed and scrambled to close the door as you attempted, once again, to escape him.  “Wait!” You turned back to him slightly, hearing his pleading tone.  When you caught a glimpse of him, the look on his face matched his tone. “Did…did I do something wrong?” He wrung his hands together.  

“No, not at all.” You assured him, barely above a whisper.  

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He looked as if he might stomp his foot, like a petulant child.  “I just felt like we were really starting to get used to each other, and maybe even…maybe we were friends. Then you found out the Queen died, and you’ve been weird!” 

“I know,” you mumbled looking at your feet on the carpet.  

“You know that you’ve been weird?” He took a step toward you.  

“No, Seokmin, I know,” you unlocked your phone and held it out to him. His eyes widened to a size you had never seen as he took in the sight of his own body on your phone screen. You watched him scroll for a few seconds, making sure this was really him, before he looked up at you.   

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he clutched your phone in his hands and you had to stop your thoughts from wandering.  “You let me move in without knowing me, and I brought this into your home.” You shook your head as he continued, “No seriously, this was so disrespectful of me and if you want me to move out—wait…” You could almost see the gears turning in his head, “How do you know about this?”     

“I—” Your mouth felt dry, you wanted to run away. 

“Do you watch my videos?” He tried to sound confident but the scarlet blush creeping up his cheeks gave him away.   

“I, uh, may have seen one or two…”

“When was the last time,” his confidence was rising now. 

“Um..the day I ‘found out’ the Queen died…” You muttered. “Right before you got home…” You whispered, the heat rose in your cheeks.  He blinked at you for a moment before crossing the room over to you.  

“Did you finish?” His eyes turned dark and his voice lowered.  You nodded up at him, you weren’t sure how he got this information out of you when just a moment ago both of you were too embarrassed to even look at each other.  It didn’t matter, though, not with the way he looked down at you, and how three words made you wet.

His nimble fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he dragged you back to the couch.  He sat you down gently and sank to his knees in front of you.  You spread your legs for him to shuffle closer to your clothed core.  “I started this whole thing to gain confidence, you know?”

“You..you seem pretty confident now..” You were distracted by the vision in your head of him parting your folds with his tongue.

“Well,” he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, “my roommate I’ve been crushing on since I moved in has seen me get myself off, and she liked it.”  

“Mhmm,” you pressed your thighs together, “and?”   

“Well,” he began to slowly pull your clothes down your thighs, “if I would have known the times I heard her trying to keep quiet were already because of me, I would have offered to help her out.”   You didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about him hearing you before he had your bottoms off and fluttering to the floor.  

He spread your legs apart and settled on the floor between them.  He leveled himself with your dripping cunt and licked the first fat stripe.  A gasp ripped from your throat at the contact.  Your vision from a few seconds ago became a reality as he ran his tongue slowly through your folds.  Your hands found his hair, and he hummed contentedly into your heat.  HIs arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer to him, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.  The new closeness brought his sharp nose into contact with your clit, eliciting a lewd moan from you.  

He dipped his tongue in your entrance experimentally as his nose continued to stimulate the bundle of nerves.  You felt like you might explode.  Everything was Seokmin, his mouth, his fingers gripping the plush of your thighs, the way his moans into your cunt mixed with your own.  You felt like you were about to break.  He could tell.  You bucked your hips to meet his face, chasing your high.    

You came undone as Seokmin was tasting you.  He would drink it all up if he could.  Reluctantly, he tore himself away.  You swore you almost came again at the beauty of his mouth and nose covered in the essence of you. His pupils were blown out, almost covering the brown of his irises.  You leaned forward and kissed him, deep and hard, you didn’t even care that you could taste yourself on his lips.  He whimpered against you.  

“Let me take care of you, Min,” you whispered.  

“No.” He shook his head.  You pulled back and looked at him, confused. “Use me.” He begged.  This man was on his knees in front of you, begging.  

“What do you want?” 

“Make me your toy,” he said breathlessly, “use me like you do when you watch me, please?” His eyes were big and round.  You nodded and pushed him onto his back on the floor.  You climb onto him and straddle his hips.  He was overwhelmed already, looking up at you.  You ground your hips down onto his hard cock and he let out another whimper.  Leaning forward you trapped his hands above his head.  

“Leave those there while I undress you, pretty boy,” he nodded eagerly and you moved to remove his pants and boxers.  Once free, you took in the sight of his pretty cock in person for the first time.  Seokmin’s hands were big, so you never realized just how big he was elsewhere as well. You swiped some of the precum that was drowning the bulbous head and worked it down his shaft.  “Ready?” 

He nodded again, you were half convinced that he couldn’t form words.  You lined yourself up above him and slowly sank down on his cock. 

“F-fuck…” There was his voice.  He took the word right out of your mouth.  The stretch was delicious, he fit inside of you perfectly.  You gave yourself a second to adjust before he was whining and begging you to move. You rocked your hips experimentally, and he felt better inside of you than originally thought.  He was already thrusting up to meet you.  

“Eager,” you remarked. You moved up and down, feeling each delicious drag against your walls.  Seokmin, ever eager to please, left his hands above his head as he was told.  “You can touch me.” You breathed.  His hands flew to your hips and began to guide your rocking on his cock.  “You’re such a good boy, waiting for permission.” He whimpered at your praise.  You could feel the telltale signs of your orgasm approaching.  

“Baby ‘m gonna cum,” he sighs.  The familiar sounding sighs sent you hurtling toward your own high.  His thrusts from under you became sloppy and quick.  Your second orgasm washed over you in waves, and you felt like you were floating.  Quickly after yours began, Seokmin came undone, and he released hot white ropes inside of your spent cunt.  

He pulls you into a kiss and lays you down on his chest.  The apartment is quiet as the two of you come down from your highs.  After a few minutes Seokmin breaks the carefully crafted silence, “Baby?” 

“Mmmm?” You hum.  

“You knew that the Queen was dead, didn’t you?”   

[burekforsatoru]

boss makes a dollar, i make a dime, that's why i fuck on cumpany time

sam (stardew valley)/f!reader | read it on ao3 sneaking into joja warehouse to be with sam during his break… need i say more? wc: 2.2k tags: joja mart, piv sex, multiple orgasms (sam), praise kink, semi-public sex 𓇼 ⋆.˚ masterlist

the joja mart warehouse hasn’t always been a mess. sam always says there was a week when everything was in its place, and then he got hired so naturally all hell broke loose.

there’s a speaker in the far corner of the large room. static spills from it alongside some corny overplayed pop song, but sam’s mood can't be ruined by something as trivial. no, he's nursing a fat boner, has been since you sent him a sneaky selfie as you were getting dressed, not showing your face, but instead a delicious view of your cute bra and a very tasty underboob.

he’s counting down seconds until he can go on his lunch break, especially since you are supposed to join him. he will let you in through the staff entrance, just like many times before, and sneak you into the warehouse.

there's a nice, cozy space between two old shelving units where sam used to sit and read comic books, then sit and eat lunch, and then sit and jerk off to photos and videos you'd sent him, all starring your plump tits, your bouncy ass, those sweet, sweet wet folds that got parted by your gentle finger as you moaned out his name, telling the camera how much you missed him. he can never grow tired of hearing it, hearing the wet noises your pussy made when you'd stick your finger inside, the resolution of the video so high he would get tempted to lean in and lick the damn screen.

you don't send him videos anymore, not at work. since the back door camera got miraculously busted about a month ago, he’s been sneaking you in almost every day, taking you to that cozy space between the two old shelving units and fucking you senseless, right in between the crates of joja cola cans. 

his alarm couldn’t go off any sooner, it barely rings when he already pushed the door to the warehouse open, sliding his key card through the reader and nearly started running towards the exit. you're already waiting there, sparkle in your eyes upon seeing him so damn excited. he takes a moment to look at you, to calm his speeding heart, to drink in your radiance.

fuck, if he wasn't so damn horny he would take you out for a picnic, sit down with you and hold your hand as you tell him about your day, as you listen to some music sharing his earphones, as you giggle and twirl in your sundress and tuck your hair behind your ear while he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek and another to the corner of your mouth, making sure to take off the dot of whipped cream you have there. but the press of his erection gets even more painful when he lays eyes on the little dress you're wearing. you're really not making things easier for him.

unceremoniously, he drags you inside, already kissing you before even shutting the door fully, holding your waist with one hand while the other cups your cheek, lips attaching to yours desperately like you're his personal oxygen mask. he's obsessed with the way you always find a way to giggle into the kiss, the corners of your lips tugging while he desperately tries to hold on, drink in your every sound, drowning out the static overlaying another shitty pop song dripping through the stupid speaker in the corner.

the sound of you fills his chest, his ears, his head. his cock twitches in his boxers and sam bucks his hips towards you as your back meets the shelving unit. quickly, with practiced movements he picks you up and sets you onto the appropriate shelf, positioned to be perfectly level with his hips.

how funny, you once said, it's clearly meant to be. yeah, meant to be because sam had lifted the fucker and stuck a big chunk of wood under all four posts, making sure they're identical, making sure everything is stable and the height is perfect for when he grows a pair and throws a rock at the security camera outside the door. now it's your spot, he can't imagine anything else being on that shelf that isn't your ass, your perfect body being fucked by him for as long as he can handle at breaks.

with one quick motion he lifts your dress, uncovering a cute, heart themed pair of panties. sam slides his hand under the elastic and tugs them off, instinctively pushing them into the pocket of his uniform for later. now your sweet little dripping cunt is right there for him to see. with an almost whiny groan, he looks down at your pussy and back at your face, seeing the redness spread over your cheeks like every time he exhibits feral behavior.

by this point he thought you'd get used to it, but each day carries a new way he surprises you, making you shy with the way he devours you with his eyes.

while he leans his forehead against yours, grounding himself in the moment, you work your way through the zipper of his uniform, following it with his boxers, now half-way down his thighs as that girthy, unfairly big cock springs out and slaps against his abdomen. already twitching and leaking, he guides it to your soft opening, parting your thighs while he kisses your lips once again, murmuring sweet little pleas in between kisses, holding the back of your head with one hand.

your arms wrap around his neck, he's almost in, almost. sam nearly folds as soon as your warmth sucks in his tip, he nearly finishes right then and there, making for a very short lunch break. it's alright, he's alright, you keep reminding him. your voice breaks him out of the spiral he's got himself into, and instead makes him focus. he pushes into you a little further, eliciting a strangled moan from his own throat and a lewd, sultry one from yours. 

yoba's soggy underwear, how are you always so damn sexy?! here he is, trying not to be a one-stroke-wonder even though you've fucked nearly every day since getting together, surely he should be used to it by now. and you're a damn goddess with your plump thighs, sugary moans, and a warm cunt just begging to be fucked. bottoming out, he throws his head back and groans, already twitching with stimulation while you lean in and pepper little warm kisses over his neck.

“thaaat's it,” you drawl, feeling him relax against you, slumping his head now against your shoulder as he moves his large hands to your thighs, “suuuuch a good boy, sam.” 

it's those two words, good boy, that make him so damn needy whenever you utter them. they drag a whimper out of his throat every time without fail. his hips push against yours despite being all the way in, he wants to give you everything and more . the slow strokes of his cock dragging in and out of you pull the same little noises from your throat as they do from his, your lips seek out his, exchanging sounds and breaths before connecting into a sweet kiss. 

it’s one of those times, when he’s pent up but wants to prolong it as much as he can. wants to spend the whole break just feeling you around him. and how good he was at it, kneading your thighs with those nimble fingers, calloused fingertips digging into your flesh as he pulls back and pushes forward, his curses slipping in between your juicy lips, the moment before he’s silenced once more by your little moan. he slides along your silken walls so slowly, dragging out every movement to feel you better, to enjoy every inch of you as you tighten and relax around his cock. 

“a- ahhh that’s s’ good babe, mmmphhh please…” he groans into your mouth, as slow strokes of his hips, guided by your ankles locked behind his back, make you moan so sweetly, sweeter than the maple bars he loves so much. 

“right th- oh right there, baby… so good–”

“a-again please…” he begs, needs to hear you tell him how it feels. 

he’s losing his damn mind, it’s leaving him in the breaths that mingle with yours, leaving in the press of the tip of his cock against your spongy sweet spot, the one that makes you tighten around his shaft, suffocating him and making him dizzy. he loses track of how many times he’s pushed his twitching length inside you, loses the number of times you’ve made his head spin with your sweet little comments.

“that’s m-my good boy, oh i’d do anything f-for you baby…” you purr into his mouth, capturing his gentle lips in another wet, sloppy kiss as your soaked pussy swallows him again. again, again , until he cums the first time.

he barely acknowledges it with his body, continuing with the slow pace, only pausing for a moment longer once his balls are pressed against your wet cunt. sam keeps kissing you, his teeth grip onto your bottom lip and tug, moaning in time with you, digging his fingers deeper into your flesh.

“sweet… sweet boy…” words drip like honey from your tongue and he catches them, tongue scooping them back into your mouth, torn between letting you praise him and licking into your mouth. “s-so good to me, m- mmph sam.. feel s’ good, g- ah good boy–”

sam whines, feeling his hips stutter every time you say those words, but he doesn’t speed up, he drags his strokes out even longer, even lazier.

“m-more,” he whispers, licking your bottom lip before pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it, “more, tell me… tell me more, please .” the last word is barely a breath as he lets go of your thighs, instead cupping your face and holding it still as he grinds his hips against yours.

“m- mmmph w-why, you wanna–” your words are stolen out of your mouth, he’s dragging his tongue against yours just like he drags his cock along your walls, “–wanna hear how sweet you are, hmm?” 

he hums, tilting your head up so he can kiss along your jaw, nipping the skin as he makes his way to the sensitive spot under your ear. pressing his tongue against it and flicking it against your earlobe, he lets out a barely stifled moan directly into your ear. your walls instantly close up, squeezing him so tightly that he needs to pause, taking quick, desperate breaths as he tries to stay somewhat alert until you relax and let go. 

“babe… babe please– oh fuck .” he feels himself rush over the edge and, as soon as he starts moving, he cums, slowly feeling it drip out of his sensitive tip while he resumes that slow, languid pace.

second load already behind you, he whimpers into your ear, holding onto a thread of sanity as his lips trace the shape of your ear, pleading with you to… anything. to have mercy on him, to stop being so damn perfect, to curse him, praise him, kiss him. to take all of his cum and keep it nice and warm inside you as he glides in and out of you. his words turn incoherent, a blabbering mess of noises as his hips stutter again and he tenses, holding your face a little tighter and bringing his lips to yours again. he nearly sucks out the breath from your lungs, snapping his hips a little harder, getting desperate for one more release.

“saaaam–” you drawl again, higher in pitch as his hip bones dig into your soft thighs with harder thrusts.

“ sam, your break has been over for two minutes, return back to work. ” the speaker sounds, breaking up words with static, but the message is clear.

“n-no… look at me,” you bring a hand to the side of his face and tilt it towards you, “at me, sam. mmm that’s good,” he zeroes in on the glossiness of your eyes, on the dilated pupils that drink in his blushed face and the sweat on his forehead, “be m-my good boy, y-yeah?” 

it’s enough for him, sam nods like an obedient little thing and snaps his hips a few more times, taking you to another dimension before spilling his cum inside you one last time, stilling completely as he takes a few more sloppy kisses from your lips, slowly pulling out with your shaky legs spreading to let him look at the result. the sweetest sight he’s ever laid his eyes on, dripping sticky liquid on your shelf, the flowy sundress making you look sweeter than ice cream on a hot summer’s day. 

“go,” you sigh, looking up at the malfunctioning speaker, “i’ll clean up and meet you outside when you fin–” you chuckle, quickly changing your choice of words, “when your shift’s done.” 

sam groans, reluctantly pulling his boxers and pants back up and leaning in for another quick kiss and a glance down at your dripping cunt.

♡ if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, reblog, or a comment. interaction helps keep your writers motivated! also if you don't agree with any aspect of this that's okay, this is just my opinion and it's hella self-indulgent!

“love you babe.” he shoots that sweet smile at you before turning and dragging himself back into the store, leaving you to clean yourself up with joja branded wet wipes. before slipping out through the back door, you chuckle as you feel the air on your naked pussy, thinking about the pink heart pair of panties stuffed into sam’s pocket.

[saturnville]

not in the mood, l. hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black wife oc (she). summary: lewis simply isn’t in the mood for any games. warning: brief description of sexual situations, 18+.

tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neewrites @cocobutterqwueen

faceclaim: @/flamefaire

saturn’s command center 🚀: @cocobutterqwueen sent me a video of lewis getting handsy and well, here we are!

He hadn’t said much when he woke up in the morning. A kiss and a whispered, I love you, was the most her ears registered. He moved quietly and swiftly throughout their shared suite, a gentle kiss against her forehead here, and a caressing of her hip there, but he had not much to say.

She presumed he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or he was in his head about the upcoming race. Her husband, she felt, was his own worst enemy. Constantly comparing himself to who he was, beating himself for the things he could have and should have done, for the things he could do but sometimes failed at doing. By the way his eyebrows were stitched together and how his teeth visibly chewed at the inside of his cheek, she knew he was in deep thought.

She grabbed his face softly, her manicured nails against his skin lightly, “Get out of your head. You’re doing great and you will continue to be great.” He said nothing, but his deep brown eyes said everything his lips did not. Thank you. She smiled softly. “Let’s go then.”

-

“And I can’t ride with my wife because?” Lewis emphasized the latter part in annoyance, tapping his fingers against his phone case. They were on their way out the building and to her blacked out SUV when he was stopped by his security detail.

“They want you to arrive with the team. You know how this goes.”

Lewis opened his mouth to object, but her hand on his back stopped him. “Thank you,” she interjected. “He’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Mrs. Hamilton—“

It was her turn to plaster a picture-perfect but false smile on her face. She turned toward the guard with a singular nod, “Five minutes.” The guard pursed his lips and took a few steps backward.

“Baby,” she said once she turned to face him. She brought her hands to his face, running her fingers along his forehead and creased eyebrows. “Positive attitude. Get out of your head. And play nice, do you hear me?”

Lewi sighed and nodded. She smiled once more, this time more genuine. Her palms pressed against his stomach before soothing out his dark Mercedes shirt. She pulled a small notecard out her back pocket and put it in his front, a small tradition they had. Before every match (if she could), she’d write a small note to him and slip it in his pocket. He’d read it before the game, and whether the outcome was good or bad, he had something good to look forward to.

“Thank you, love.” Lewis pecked her lips and tapped her bottom before walking toward the security detail. “See you there.”

She blew a kiss and was soon escorted out to her hotel by her security detail to her vehicle.

-

The paddock always fueled her. The energy was glorious. Excited fans with grins that stretched from ear-to-ear, high-pitched screams of joy, and a rush of passion filled the atmosphere. She walked through the garage, fingers tapping against one another as she awaited the arrival of her husband.

He came into view a few moments later, the sour mood having returned just as quickly as it left. She sighed heavily. She called for him, “Hamilton!” and he turned quickly, his eyes catching hers from behind his glasses. His lip curled upward to a smile.

She rocked back and forth on her feet as she watched him weave through the crowd of people who were asking how he was doing, to which he replied softly, “I’m well, thank you.” But just as he was in arms reach, someone blocked his way to her, thrusting their arm against his abdomen. Something about “not mingling with fans at the moment.”

“That’s my wife and please, don’t touch me,” Lewis scoffed and shoved the man’s hand away which shifted the vibe in the garage entirely. The man looked at the driver with pure shock and almost disdain. Spectators raised their eyebrows in surprise and began to murmur amongst themselves. Sure, Lewis got annoyed just as every other person, but to see him act in such a manner was a surprise to all.

She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath. Whatever was going on internally was manifesting externally and she planned to get to the bottom of it. The last thing she wanted to hear was how his managers would be upset about his snapping at a staff member. While it was deserved, she still couldn’t understand why he was in the mood he was in.

So, when he made it to her and slipped his in hers, she whispered in his ear, “Be on your best bevahior. We’ll talk about this later. Good luck.”

Through his glasses, Lewis’ looked at her. She wasn’t angry, but she was stern. If he couldn’t recognize her seriousness, he’d be turned on.

Lewis nodded and pressed a kiss against her forehead before retreating with his team. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

-

“You want to explain to me what today was about?” She said as soon as they stepped into their suite. She tossed her purse on the couch and sat next to him.

Lewis hadn’t met her eyes. His head was against the back of the couch, his hand over his eyes. His knee rocked back and forth as he pondered on her words. “I’m just not in the mood today, baby.”

“That I can see, but I think it goes deeper than that, honey. Hey, look at me.” She scooted closer, moving to settle in his lap. Lewis’ hand rested on her hip. He raised his head to look in her eyes, full of sensitivity and desire to understand. “What’s wrong, Lewis?”

“I’m tired, love. I’m just tired.” His eyes and his tone said what the lack of words didn’t. He was indeed tired, this she knew. From the scrutiny, from trying his best and feeling like he failed, from the expectations, from the judgements, from the facade he had to put on everyday. It gew exhausting. He could only keep it together so long before he burst like a broken dam.

She knew her husband. When he was in need of words of affirmation, he typically stopped communicating. It was a tell-tale sign that he was in his head and was dealing with the desire to be verbally appreciated. She knew her husband and knew how to make it better.

She nodded once, deciding not to push it further. “C’mon, babe.” She stood from his lap and held her hand out. Lewis looked at her, her hand, then put his in hers.

-

“Lewis,” she whispered against his jaw as they made love slowly and intensely. Her hands cradled his head against her chest, which he kissed and nipped on gently. Her words were caught in her throat as she moved above him as skillfully as she could. “You’re an amazing man, husband, and father.”

She could hear his breathing grow ragged as the intensity between them reached a breaking point and boiled over. His blunt nails kissed her flesh, causing her to hiss at the feeling. Her fingers were looped in his hair and she tugged slightly.

Through hazy eyes she looked at him. Her hands cupped his jaw and against his lips she said, “I love you. I love you…always.”

-

“Do you feel any better?” She asked after some time. Hours had passed and it was just them in the darkness of their bedroom, caressing each other softly as the insects sang a familiar tune.

Lewis nodded tiredly. “I do. It’s always nice having an attentive partner. Thank you.” His lips grazed her forehead to which she welcomed with a bashful smile.

“Hey,” she spoke up. Her finger nudged his temple which made him turn his face up. “And, please, try to avoid shoving folks in public. I understand your frustration completely, babe, but that could’ve gone south. Understood?”

Lewis pursed his lips but nodded nonetheless. She smiled widely and pecked his lips.

“Good.”

[jj-one]

SALTY & SWEET 🥣

pairing: established relationship, nerdy bf!dom!Jungkook x gf!reader, jk is around 21/22 in this genre/tags: smut, (some) fluff, angst, degradation, praise kink, oral (m receiving), facef*cking, food play, c*m play, c*m eating, use of word daddy (once) words: 981

**old repost from my deleted blog

Oh you sad, sad little thing… always finding yourself in these compromising situations. The whole morning went as normal with Jungkook, he was super nice to you and smothered you with lots of loving kisses! But once he arrived back home from classes his entire mood shifted completely.

“Get on your knees, wanna use that pretty little mouth of yours right now.” Jungkook was hovering over you as you sat down.

You were just minding your business on the couch eating a bowl of strawberries when he said that to you.

“W-what?” Your eyes bug out of your head like a deer in headlights.

“Did I stutter? On your knees NOW!” His voice becomes more stern.

You squirm to get up, not wanting to waste another minute incase he gets angrier. Your body feels shaky from his intimidating persona, he usually comes off as sweet and caring but when he’s mad he becomes almost sadistic.

It didn’t take long for him to end up down your throat. All 7 inches of him being taken by you. You kept choking and gagging but the more you did it the more Jungkook would just keep pushing your head back down. His fingers latching onto your hair and thrusting his hips harder to get more of his cock deeper in your throat.

“C’mon, you can take it like the little pathetic slut you are. You’re my precious little pup right?”

His words made you so fucking wet for him.

You wanted to please him in the best way you could. Bobbing your head back and forth, his spit combined with your saliva all over your face. Jungkook likes it messy though, he also loves shooting his load out on your face after a long day. You acted like nothing but a toy for him to use, just a fuckdoll he can manipulate and dump all his cum into when he’s frustrated.

His glasses were sliding down to his nose as he keeps lowering his head to get a finer view of you. Your fucked out face was so angelic to him, so divine… you looked the most beautiful when you had Jungkook’s cock buried in your mouth.

“There atta-girl… such a good little slut for me aren’t you?” The way he talks to you will be your true weakness.

You had to prove your love to him. Your devotion. You wanted his cum as a reward so you had to work hard for it and push through the pain. You try humming to loosen up your vocal cords and take him better, the vibrations sent chills up his spine and he almost lost his balance for a second. Feeling the way he throbbed and twitched on your tongue made you moan against his shaft.

“Fuck yeah… good girl my good little fucking princess…”

You kept letting him throatfuck you and the tears came rolling down now. He loved seeing you become a crying fucked out mess for him, it filled his heart with the utmost joy.

“Aww.. my darling’s getting teary eyed, can’t take all of it huh??”

Your jaw hurts so bad but you can’t stop now, you have only one goal to achieve and that was to make your boyfriend cum all over your pretty face. His cock slammed into your uvula and you made a loud gagging noise, he would just grin and keep pushing hisself in you relentlessly. He laughed at your misery, the way your knees buckled and quivered while being under him.

He wouldn’t be laughing for too much longer though, one more thrust to the back of your throat would leave him nearly unable to talk. His body felt paralyzed. Eyes were violently rolling to the back of his head as he feels his release approaching. He jerks his hips back and quickly pulls out of your mouth. He doesn’t bring his cock to your face though, instead his attention is drawn to the bowl of strawberries you were eating from earlier.

He stands in front of it on the couch and viciously strokes his cock, large white ropes of cum come trickling down onto the fresh strawberries. Once he finishes he looks back at you now with an evil grin.

“Get on all fours for me doll.” He instructs you.

You do as you’re told, getting on your hands and knees, crawling your way towards him. He takes ones of the strawberries— that are now all coated with his hot delicious cum and brings it to your lips.

“Open wide.”

You open your mouth and he plops the strawberry in, you immediately close your mouth to start chewing. The strawberry was so sweet and juicy while Jungkook’s cum was warm and salty, this might be the perfect combination you’ve ever tried.

“Taste’s good right princess?”

You nod your head and finally speak “Yes, so yummy daddy, want to eat more!”

“Then go ahead, eat more.”

You dip your face in the bowl of strawberries and eat another one. You can’t get over how good his cum tastes with the savory fruit. He pets the top of your head like you were a kitten, just grinning at the sight of you eagerly eating his cum.

“Such a naughty little girl… you really are a huge slut.” He degrades you more, wrapping his hand around your neck as he lifts you from being on all fours.

You’re back on your knees again facing him while he kept a tight grip on you. The way this man had you so down bad for him, you were willing to let him do absolutely anything to satisfy his needs. Your body couldn’t stop trembling under his touch, he had you perfectly the way he wanted.

“Still look so pretty, even after sucking off my cock..” his hold on you was only getting tighter at this point.

“So obedient for me, always.”