#she keeps trying to get me to grow my hair out

[lalacliffthorne]

🖤 the fake dating scheme 🖤

Azriel x Reader

part I

summary: trying to convince your best friend you're not hopelessly in love by pretending you are in a relationshop? bad idea. panicking and kissing the first male in sight? terrible idea.

notes: new series? check. fake dating trope? check. (if you can guess which book this idea is based on, you'll get a kiss and a cookie)

______________________________________________________________

“Please?" Mor pouts before raising her brows and beaming softly. “I swear to you, I could find you someone – like this.” She snaps her fingers, and I sigh, feeling my lips quirk a little even as I struggle not to roll my eyes.

“I don’t want - someone.” Picking up my glass, I frown when I realise that it's empty.

Damn it.

It's Saturday night, and Rita's is vibrating with the thrum of laughter and music. It's the kind that sends warm shivers down your spine, sucking you in when you listen for too long. Fae are dancing, their bodies weaving and winding, laughing and shimmering in the lights.

I haven't been keeping count, but according to Mor, I have not been out with her and the others for over three moons now. In my eyes, it's no reason for an intervention, but Mor thought otherwise and showed up at my apartment unannounced, forcing me to dress up before dragging me out of the door.

Apparently, not having a very important mission the next morning meant I either went willingly or she'd get Cassian to show up on my doorstep and get me.

The thought makes me huff a soft smile, and my eyes flicker over the crowd. I clock Cass over at the bar, flirting with one of the bartenders. Neither Rhys nor Feyre are anywhere to be seen, having disappeared to do the Cauldron knows what, and Azriel –

My heart leaps a little, and I can’t stop my eyes from searching for a tall, lean figure, wings shrouded by shadows and dark, tousled hair -

Blinking and pulling myself together, I quickly drag my gaze away from the crowd - only to find Mor’s already on me.

My heart plummets a little.

The Blonde watches me, and slowly, a gentle crease appears between her brows. For a moment, she seems to hesitate. Then she squints lightly and calls over the noise: “Is it because of him?”

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“You know, I am still trying not to be insulted that you've never told me who it is.” One corner of Mor’s lips twitches in a soft laugh, but her eyes flicker over mine, careful, hesitant, and a little worried.

My heart swells and tightens at the same time.

She is too good. Worried instead of upset that her best friend, who fights her way through brawls and delivers threats with a cheeky smile, has been hopelessly pining after the same male for the better part of a century and refuses to tell her who it is.

But I can’t tell her.

I haven’t told anyone.

Because saying it out loud means admitting to it.

Admitting that I fell, like a fool. Headfirst. Crashed and burned for someone so entirely out of my league, it is almost ridiculous.

As long as I don't tell anyone, I can pretend that I haven't. That it's nothing but a silly infatuation that will eventually fade away.

I nearly grimace.

Hopefully.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I crunch my brows. "Don't worry, that - is all over."

Mor’s eyes flicker over my face, and she looks so obviously not convinced that something tightens in my chest.

“Really. It’s – I’m fine, I'm alright, I’m -”, the more I talk, the deeper the worried crease between Mor’s brows grows, and I feel my breath hitch.

And before I can stop myself, before I can think; just because I simply can't stand the way Mor is staring at me, like it causes her chest to ache knowing I'm in love with someone so hopelessly that I won't even tell her who it is - I blurt out the first thing appearing in my head capable of making that look disappear.

“I’m seeing someone.”

My heart leaps high, and I barely keep my eyes from widening.

Bollocks.

For a moment, Mor and I simply stare at each other, seemingly both in a comical way of neither us quite believing what has just come out of my mouth - though the reasons for that are very different. Then Mor blinks, and the corners of her lips slowly curve upwards into a giddy smile.

“What?”

“I,” I try to stop my eyes from growing even wider, “yes. I mean, it’s - casual, not serious, but -”

I blink again and swallow.

Mor begins to beam brightly.

I want to disappear under the table.

“Oh my Gods; is he here?”Her gaze darts towards the crowd like somehow, she can make out the nonexistent someone in the sea of Fae.

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“I – I don’t – I don’t actually know, but – I’m going to get myself another drink, do you want one –“ Pointing over my shoulder, I'm already sliding out of the booth, barely suppressing the urge to bolt like a deer and instead sending her what I hope is a cheeky smile instead of a terrified look.

Mor nods and beam, and I quickly turn around and feel my heart pang painfully against my ribs as i widen my eyes.

Oh Gods.

♡

My thoughts start racing as soon as I weave my way through the crowd.

What the hell was I thinking?

The little white lie that's meant to soothe Mor’s worries and keep her off my back is doomed to be very short lived, because – there is no one. I am not seeing anybody, because I – am awfully, stupidly in love with someone who is so incredibly out of my league it is almost funny.

I'm not quite sure when the spark has turned into something more. Something that makes my heart thrum at the smallest brush of rough calloused fingers.

I just know that for some cursed reason known only to the Mother herself, it was instant, the little hitch in my heart’s rhythm when Rhys introduced me to the male shrouded in shadows a little over a century ago.

My heart swells and tightens, and I inhale softly and sharply, trying to focus.

This is a disaster. What am I supposed to do now? Act like there is someone?

No, Mor would become suspicious quickly if I didn't actually have anyone to show for.

Make someone pretend with me?

I barely keep myself from snorting a giggle.

What a terrible idea. That would never work; I’ve read enough novels to know that something like that is bound to end in certain disaster.

My eyes flicker over the males scattered all over the wide room, one more exceptionally beautiful than the next, many looking at passing females in interest.

I slow, something churning in my chest as I crunch my nose and swallow.

On the other hand… I am at the one spot in the city where there are more males than I dare to count – given this circumstance, do I really have another choice?

I swallow slowly.

This is an awful idea.

A completely harebrained, ridiculous idea.

But even though I wreck my brain trying to come up with an alternative that is not telling Mor the truth – I can’t find one.

This is my only way out.

Unless I want to go and confess to Mor about my lie, inevitably leading to having to explain the why.

Yes, that is really not an option.

Which means – I have to pick someone. Randomly. And pray to the Mother and the Cauldron and anyone else who is willing to listen that that person won’t mind if I rope them into pretending to be my casual, not serious relationship for the night.

I feel my heart leap against my ribs.

This is by far the worst idea I’ve ever come up with.

Breathing out, I swallow before loosening my shoulders and starting to let my gaze quickly flicker over the crowd.

Alright.

How does one pick a pretend lover?

First step: Rule out those who are obviously taken. Then those which one's instincts mark as a clear No - either because they are staring at the passing females a little too intently, or because are very obviously not interested in females at all.

Which leaves me with quite a lot less options than I have expected.

I swallow harshly.

Gods, maybe there's somebody I vaguely know, who I can just walk up to and say Hello, I really need your help, I have been an idiot, please could you help me so my best friend stops looking at me like I’m causing her the greatest heartbreak in all of history -

My eyes flicker over a male in the crowd, and my heart skips softly, my thoughts stilling.

Because even though I’ve just caught a glimpse at him, looming in the shadows, hair dark and shoulders broad, towering over the crowd - it's enough to realise he seems familiar.

My heart leaps into my throat, and before I can think about it, stop myself with any rational thought, I start pushing forward.

Something begins to thrum against my ribs, stronger and harder with every quick step.

With dignity. Act like this is natural. Maybe hug him and hope he gets the point and plays along; do not loose your composure, do not do or say anything stupid or irrational or -

I catch a glimpse at blonde hair and red lips from the corner of my eye, and my heart jumps into my throat.

And before I can think, before I can hold myself back, my hand darts out to grab the male’s arm and tug him around – and again, the words simply tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I need to kiss you,”, I whisper quickly, my hands slipping up over broad shoulders, and before I can stop myself, I pull the male down and stretch to press my lips onto his.

My breath catches.

Oh.

The male's lips are soft and cool. He tastes like ale and honey and something else, something that makes my fingers curl into his shoulders and my body shudder -

Hands, big and rough, close around my sides, just below my ribs, and my heart plummets as I ready myself to be pushed away.

But instead, they tighten. I can feel them flexing, their grip shifting. Then a low sound breaks from the male's throat, and he draws me closer, my chest pressing against his.

My breath hitches, and I slide my hands over his shoulders, bury my fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head, something swelling in my chest as I cling to him. He's tall, so tall he has to dip his head even though I am stretching to meet him. His body feels lean and steady and solid, easily holding up my weight -

Something cool brushes against my back; I suck in a soft breath, and a familiar scent rises into my nose.

My heart leaps painfully, and I still.

I know this scent.

My heart breath catches for another eason entirely, and I feel myself freeze.

Oh no.

Somehow, I manage to draw back, breaking the kiss, my heart pounding when I fall back onto my heels, forcing my eyes to open, my lips tingling and something rising into my throat -

Amber eyes clash with mine, and my eyes widen.

Oh. Shit.

Azriel's staring at me. Even in the dim lights, I can see how strangely hazy his eyes look, slightly unfocused as he blinks slowly. His cheeks seem almost a little flushed, and his lips are standing slightly agape as his throat moves in an absentminded swallow. He's still so close, his scent filling my lungs, his chest pressing against mine, his hands wrapped around my ribs -

The shadowsinger blinks again. Then he opens his mouth.

His impossibly deep voice brushes down my spine like a feather light touch, hoarse and strangely disoriented.

“Did you just kiss me?”

Staring up at him with wide eyes, I try to keep my breathing even, try to fight the rising panic in my chest.

“No…?”

Azriel’s grip shifts. I can see the moment the strange haze in his eyes begins to dissolve. His gaze becomes clearer as it pierces my face, and the muscles in his cheeks shift as I watch the traces of his usual scowl starting to form, the deep crease between his brows and the set in his jaw as shadows rise beyond his wings. His fingers dig into my ribs, and my heart rises into my throat.

Shit, shit, shit -

Quickly, before Azriel can commit murder in a public space or I can do another stupid thing, I slide my hand into his and slip past him, pushing into the crowd and pulling him with me.

If I'm lucky, Mor is watching and thinks we’re going somewhere private.

Which we are.

Only for very a different reason than what she might assume.

Azriel's long, calloused fingers tighten around mine, and I feel my heart swell and plummet at the same time.

Cauldron, he's going to kill me.

♡

Azriel lets me drag him with me until we reach a bench at the Sidra. Since he could just plant his feet and I would not be able to move him even if I threw my whole weight against him, I take it as a tentative sign that he isn’t too mad.

Or maybe he's simply still in shock and he'ss going to rip me to shreds the second he's recovered.

The river reflects the golden lights of the city and the galaxies high above, the crisp air clearing my head just far enough that when I slow down and turn around to face the shadowsinger, I feel the urge to just sink into the ground in mortification. Or drown myself in the Sidra. Or –

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, feeling my heart leap against my chest. “I am so sorry, I –“ My voice dies.

I have forgotten how tall he is. How much he towers over me, how small he can make me feel by simply dipping his head to look down at me, wings looming, shoulders shrouded in darkness.

His eyes are stormy as they pierce mine, dark and unreadable.

I realise I'm still holding his hand.

Quickly, I slip my fingers out of his, trying to ignore the way the cool air brushes against my skin where seconds before, his rough palm pressed against mine.

Azriel's fingers twitch, then they curl against his palm.

He's probably having to keep himself from strangling me now instead of after my explanation.

I swallow. Then I slowly step back and sink down onto the bench, rubbing my palms over my face.

Gods, this is a nightmare.

"I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. It was so stupid." I raise my head to look at him, and my heart leaps against my ribs in soft panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear, I just - panicked."

Azriel is still watching me, brows drawing together like a scowl is threatening to form on his face, eyes firmly locked onto mine, and I feel my breath hitch and blink. The pressure around my throat tightens, something in my chest squeezes painfully, and for the third time this night, simply driven by panic I blurt out without thinking: "Mor is onto me about me liking somebody."

Azriel stares at me. His shadows pull inward. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and I shrink a little.

Crap.

Quickly, I start talking.

"I know, that's - a ridiculous reason. But she knows, she knows that I've stupidly, ridiculously fallen, and she's worried, because I have never told her who it is, but I can't," I widen my eyes and raise my shoulders, "but she was trying to convince me to let her set me up, and when I wasn't responding the way she thought I would, she figured that it's because I am still hung up on that person, and while that's stupidly true, I also just really don't want her to set me up, I cannot handle that pressure, but she looked so heartbroken and I couldn't stand it, so I blurted out without thinking that I am seeing somebody, that I'm over -" My eyes meet amber ones, and my voice dies.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I blink, swallowing and mumbling: "Him."

Azriel's eyes pierce mine, deep, dark, unreadable.

I blink, raising my brows. "But I'm not. I mean, I'm not - seeing anybody, but I needed to convince her that I am, to make her stop looking at me like that." I feel my chest tighten as I raise my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "So I figured I would have to find somebody to help me pretend. And I thought I would pick someone I knew, because they were more likely to play along, but I couldn't find anyone." I blink. "Well, until I saw you." Quickly, I raise my brows. "Except I didn't even realise it was you, because it was dark and full and I was panicking, which is why I didn't just ask you like a sane person would do, but instead just -" Again, my voice dies, and I feel my shoulders sink in desperation when I mumble sheepishly: "Kissed you."

Azriel's jaw shifts, and his stormy eyes flicker over my face.

"I'm so sorry." I exhale and close my eyes, wincing. "I-I'll make it right. I swear. I'll explain to Mor what happened, that there's nothing going on between us, that it was just a stupid mistake." I swallow, rubbing my forehead.

For a moment, there's silence. The Sidra gently laps at the walls of the river bank, the soft waves of the river the only sound in the night. Then Azriel's low voice brushes over my skin, slow and calm.

"Or you don't."

I blink. Then I raise my head.

"What?"

Azriel watches me as he slowly crosses his arms, leaning back against the stone balustrade. His eyes are steady and unreadable. "You could let her believe that what she saw is true." His deep voice is low, rasping over my skin. "Make everyone believe it is."

Something swells in my chest until it feels a little hard to breathe.

With parted lips, I stare at Azriel.

"Why would you do that?" My voice is soft.

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he blinks. "Cass and Rhys have been on me lately. About putting myself out there."

He looks so offended by the sentiment, a soft giggle bursts from my throat before I can stop it.

"Pretending this is real wouldn't just calm Mor, it would also get them off my back - at least for a good while until they have found some other project." Azriel's gaze flickers over mine, steady, calm.

Something starts thrumming against my ribs.

Azriel watches me, shadows curling around his shoulders. "You can say no."

My heart leaps against my ribs.

"No,", I blurt out hastily. Then I blink and hastily add: "I - I mean, yes. Not no. Yes, to that, not no -"

Azriel calls my name, and his deep voice makes me fall quiet with a sheepish wince.

For a second, I'm almost sure I can see the corner of his lips curve. His eyes flicker over my face. Then he lightly raises a brow.

I stare at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.

This is a terrible idea.

A hugely terrible idea.

Cause it's not just pretending to be in a relationship - it's pretending to be with the very male who is the reason I'm in this position in the first place. The one who manages to make my breath hitch with a glance, and my heart leap into my throat with nothing but the ghost of a touch.

It's a sure recipe for disaster, heartbreak and misery.

On the other hand…

What have you got to lose?, a quiet voice in my mind whispers. You've been in love with him for a century. It's not like you can end up having even more feelings for him. Maybe pretending to be with him is finally going to make you understand that it's never going to work. Maybe he's terrible to be with!

I almost huff.

Sure.

My heart squeezes gently.

But maybe this is exactly what I need to finally wake up and get over him.

I exhale and swallow. Then I raise my head. My eyes meet Azriel's, deep and dark and unreadable, and something flutters softly against my ribs.

Breathing out, I nod once. "Let's do it."

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers

@icey--stars @ailyr92 @xadenswhore

@azriels-mate2

[darkbluekies]

MR KRABSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAAAAA!

SO, hedwig has always wanted to be a model, right? What if she's finally establishing a name for herself, getting booked, walking for big designers, and she always bringing darling to her shows. What if darling catches another models eye? they're VERY interested in darling, making hedwig choose between her career and her partner. Which one does she value more? how does she handle the jealousy (not well, obviously). How would our hedwig react to having to choose between her dream job or her dream person?

TEEEHEE I HOPE THIS HELPS IF NOT I HAVE MORE

No tracebacks, no takebacks

Yandere!richgirl oc x fem!reader

Summary: Hedwig has brought you with her on a show in Milano, but another model has set her eyes on you ... and Hedwig has to do her first killing alone.

Warnings: jealousy, drugging/killing, hitmen, Hedwig being very unstable, guilt, Hedwig is very clingy

Word count: 3k

A/N: guys I'm fighting with my phone's keyboard, it autocorrects nonsense, like hedwig to shell. Please dont mind the weird autocorrects ive missed :(

Milano fashion week. First row. Nestled between an influencer and an actress. Easier said than done. Your phone buzzes.

“My turn in 1 minute!! Promise you'll watch!! Take pictures too please I want to post them!!”

You can imagine how she looks, standing backstage in some ridiculously expensive outfit she'll beg to take home, just because she wants to give it to you, nearly jumping with excitement. It's not the first time you've been sitting here, but it hasn't gotten boring yet. The outfits are often interesting. Sometimes funny. Never boring.

She walks out, walking confidently. She always shines, but there's something different about her on the runway. She takes on a role that is different from her normal bubblegum self. Something bolder, almost sexier. They've told her behind the stage to exaggerate it, since her face is often too soft for the harsher themes. But they never deny her. How could they? Heiress to the Carter-fortune? Just having her face on the covers of the runway is enough to pull in seemingly bigger names. 

Hedwig, though, never brags about it. But you can tell on her face that she's well aware of that fact.

She disappears backstage again. Your phone buzzes again.

“Come backstage!! I want my well done kiss”

You rise from your seat and make your way backstage. After telling the guards, and showing a picture of Hedwig kissing you for proof, you’re allowed in. Backstage is always booked and busy. You look around for her. People zoom past you in a blur.

“Oh, hey”, a woman says.

You turn your head. She's a few years older than Hedwig—twenty two at most—and wears an outfit more extravagant than Hedwig's.

“I saw you in the crowd, first row”, she says. “I haven't seen you before. What's your name?”

“Y/N”, you say and try to look behind her, searching for Hedwig.

“Mind if I get your number? I’m in town a few more days for a holiday, why dont we catch up and do something?”

“Well, actually—”

“—actually, she's with me.”

Hedwig's British accent cuts in, cutting the thick tension, but just like cutting hair it grows back twice as thick. She comes up behind the other model and takes your hand, pecking your lips. She gives you a quick smile and then turns to the woman.

“The director wants to speak with you”, she says. “Urgently. Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company.”

With that said, Hedwig turns you and walks. 

“What did she say?” Hedwig asks.

“She asked for my number.”

“Oh, did she now? Bold.” She shakes her head and smiles. “Look what I managed to get you.”

You haven't even noticed the thing slung over her arm.

“Its the cardigan I wore on the runway”, she smiles. “Hold out your arms, let me see you wear it.”

You open, holding out your arms like a scarecrow. She places it on you and takes a step back, smiling ear to ear.

“Actually, I think it fits you better than it did me”, she says and hooks her arm in yours as the two of you start to walk. “Keep it on, let's go back to the hotel, I'm starving.”

“You didn't eat? I made you a snack kit …”

“No, I know, but i forgot it on the counter and I didn't want to bother you to bring it with you. I'll eat it too, don’t worry. My stomach fits both dinner and snacks.”

She holds your hand during the cab ride, leaning onto you and kissing you more than normal. Her mind drifts to the model, who she had found pleasant all afternoon, and finding herself liking her less and less. Her eyes had been watching you with such enthusiasm, those eyes that had been sure she'd get your number. Someone like her isn't used to being told ‘no’. Hedwig would know, she’s the same.

“You’re quiet”, you say.

“Mm … tired”, she hums and nuzzles her face into your shoulder. 

She thanks and pays the driver as the car stops outside the hotel. You had made the mistake of googling your suite before coming and had to rub the screen to make sure there really were those many zeroes.

“What are you feeling like?” Hedwig asks you walk into the giant hall of your hotel “room”. “I could go for salmon … maybe some baked potatoes, but at this point they're optional. I just want fish.”

“Fish and chips?”

She gives you a quick, playful glare.

“When I'm finally out of England?” she chuckles.

“Why go for fish then?” you ask and lie down in bed. “We are in Italy. Didn't you talk about pasta all week?”

“I don't know, I'm not so interested in Italian food anymore … actually, I'm pretty ready to go home.”

“Why? You were so excited. What happened?”

Hedwig sighs and stumbles over to the bed, laying down with her head in your lap. 

“Promise you won’t think I’m dumb”, she mumbles. 

“Of course not”, you reassure her. 

“That woman … who asked for your number … I felt like I was going to explode right there. She didn’t know that you were taken … but she looked at you with such certainty … as if, if she just asked you you’d give it to her without question. As if she expected it. And maybe you would have, if you weren’t with me … or maybe you would have either way—”

“Hedwig.”

“She was beautiful. I won’t deny that. She is famous too. I wouldn’t blame you if you got tempted. That’s why I feel so icky. I wasn’t ready for others to look at you the way I do. I don’t know.”

“Hedwig.”

She hugs your waist tightly, hiding her face into your chest, shivering and breathing irregularly. 

“I can’t live without you”, she breathes out. “I don’t even want to imagine it. I can’t. I can’t. I want you forever.”

“Hedwig, will you let me speak?”

“What?”

“You’re Hedwig Carter.”

“So? My name didn’t draw you to me. Why would it stop you from going to someone else?”

“Hedwig, honestly? Listen to yourself.”

She nuzzles closer, listening to your heart beating beneath your ribs and breathes out. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart”, she whispers. “I just can’t imagine life without you. I need you more than anything else.”

“You’re exhausted”, you say. “You’ve been up on your feet all day and you haven’t eaten. That’s why you’re feeling like this.”

No, it isn’t, Hedwig thinks. I think like this because I’m born like this … and I can’t deny it. I can’t get rid of it. And, oh, how I want to give in to it. It hurts.

“Should I call for room service?” you ask. “You can take a shower in the mean time? I think some warm water will help you relax.”

You’re about to leave the bed when her hand grabs your wrist. 

“Take it with me?” she asks quietly. “Please?”

You nod. She pulls you gently into the bathroom. She’s clingier than normal. If that’s possible. 

You’re both in identical white silk pyjamas. Hedwig loves to match whenever she can, and loves to put you in her clothes. She doesn’t bother to get out of bed to eat. The two of you sit together and watch a movie on the TV with your plates in your laps. She feeds you and wipes your lips with her thumbs, smiling widely. You’re so adorable, her heart can’t take it. She gets cuteness aggression whenever she looks at you. 

You’ve rested your head on her chest halfway into the movie. 

“Sleepy?” Hedwig asks softly and runs her hands through your hair. “It’s okay, you can sleep, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to miss the movie …”

“We can rewatch it tomorrow. Sleep, if you’re tired.”

Almost as on signal, you fall asleep with your head still lying on her shoulder. Hedwig holds you close, still staring at the TV-screen but not paying any attention. She imagined that woman holding you like this, being able to hold you while you’re sleeping. The thought awoken that familiar burning ice in her. Her heart beats quicker, heavier. Pounding against her ribs. Her hand shakes as she pets your hair. She recognises it. The year to kill. Hedwig licks her lips nervously and looks around, trying to remind herself where she is. She’s not at home. She doesn’t have her hitmen. She’s alone. 

Slowly, she leaves the bed, making sure not to wake you. You mumble something softly and she hushes, gently laying your head down on the pillow. 

“It’s okay, my love”, she whispers as she tucks you in. “Everything’s okay. Just sleep. You’re okay.”

But she isn’t. 

She paces back and forth in the dimly lit hotel suite, arms tightly wrapped around her. 

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What the fuck do I do?

Shakingly, she runs her hands through her hair.

I want her dead. I want her dead for even thinking that she could snatch her from me.

Hedwig scoffs, turning her head up against the ceiling, still walking back and forth. 

Miss Perfect has never gotten rejected before and was so sure that this wouldn’t be the first time. Thought that what was mine would be easy to take. Yeah, sure. In that case, you haven’t met me before.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the window, the dark night outside it making it into a mirror, and she stops moving. Hedwig tells herself that it’s the lack of light that makes her look like a ghost, but she knows that it very well could be her. 

She didn’t know. It was harmless, wasn’t it? If she had known, she probably wouldn’t have asked Y/N. 

But what if she did it anyways? What if she didn’t care? What if she thought she could have her anyway? That she could steal her? That it didn’t matter if Y/N was in a relationship because she could easily take her? 

I only spoke to her for two hours. 

The modeling world is small. I will meet her again. She will meet Y/N again. She could slip her number to them. They could start talking. She could take her from me. I have to get rid of her before anything happens. 

Hedwig bites her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. She picks up her phone. All model’s numbers are listed in the email she got, incase she wanted to widen her connections. She copies the number and goes into messages. 

“Hi, it’s Hedwig Carter, I was wondering if you wanted to catch a drink real quick?”

She doesn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“yeah, sure! i’m at an after party for some book release right now, meet me after?”

“Of course.”

Hedwig clicks away the messages and goes into dial. She calls a hidden number at the bottom. Quickly, she glances back at the bed. You’re still sleeping. Her heart swells at the sight of your head on the large pillows. You look so small. So protectable. 

“Miss Hedwig?” a rough voice answers. 

“I am going to do something really terrible”, she whispers. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I am …” She looks at you again, making sure. “I am going to kill someone.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes. I-I can’t let this go on. I have to prevent damage.”

“Are you sure? Can’t this wait? You could come back to England, set up a meeting with us and let us handle it.”

“I can’t wait that long. If I don’t do something now … I might explode. I feel like I’m going to scream. I can’t think. I have to get rid of her. I need help. What do I do? How do I make sure it doesn’t trace back?”

The hitman gives her suggestions. If the model has been at a party, giving her a drug overdose won’t be too suspicious. She could very well have gotten it at the party. It could work. Hedwig does not want to stab anyone. The less blood, the less tracing back. 

“I do have a contact in Milano that I could message”, the hitman says. “He won’t do the job for you, but he will get you what you need.”

“Okay”, Hedwig breathes out. “Thank you.”

She hangs up and walks over to the bed, quickly changing into a black dress. You look so absolutely wonderful in the bed. Hedwig blinks away a few tears and tucks you in even cozier, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“I will be back soon”, she whispers to your sleeping form. “I will make things right. I will always protect you. No matter the price. I will pay it. Always. I will be back before you know it.”

She leaves the suite, heart pounding in her chest. When she stands in the elevator, she gets the message from the contact. He’ll be waiting outside the hotel. Hedwig shrugs off the guilt and walks out to meet him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see her. Her hitman must have told him a lot about her. 

“This will be enough”, he says and gives her a pill. “It’s basically poison in a pill capsule.”

“And it won’t be traceable?” Hedwig asks, looking up at him. 

“Most likely not. These can be found here and there. I think you’ll be fine. And if not, you have the money for a lawyer.”

“I don’t care about that. I don’t want a rumour. It won’t matter if it’s traceable or not. If I’m connected to a murder rumour … I’m doomed.”

“In that case, make sure to give the victim it as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the less likely it’ll look like it comes from the party.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She runs off. Better hurry up. 

The woman meets her outside the club. She hugs Hedwig, and she has no choice but to hug back, rolling her eyes behind the woman’s head. Hedwig insists on going inside to check it out, deciding that it’ll be better if the ordeal happens at the club. Much easier to get away with it.

“Why don’t we buy a drink here?” Hedwig asks. “Before we leave?”

“Yes, sure, what do you want?”

“Anything is fine.”

The woman buys two dark drinks, to Hedwig’s delight. In the dark lights of the club, nothing will be visible in the drink. They sit down together by a round table. Hedwig takes small, small sips of her own drink and slips the pill in when the woman isn’t looking. Her head spins with fear. 

“I didn’t know the cutiepie was yours”, the woman says. “She looked quite … misplaced.”

“What do you mean?” Hedwig asks suspiciously. 

“You could tell that she isn’t used to the modeling world. It was kind of cute. She reminded me of a little deer caught in headlight.”

And suddenly Hedwig hates deers. 

“Actually, she’s more of a bunny”, Hedwig mutters and takes a sip of her drink. 

“Have you been together long?”

“Yes.”

“Lucky you.”

Hedwig looks at her up and down. “Yes. Lucky me, indeed.”

She indulges in more small talk about the modeling industry and Hedwig’s family history, but doesn’t talk about you. If the woman tries, Hedwig is quick to steer it away.

“I have to go now”, she says after a while. “My girlfriend is sleeping at our hotel, I shouldn’t leave her alone too long.”

“Yes … of course not”, the woman clears her throat. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.”

“Sure. Bye.”

Hedwig turns and walks. Quickly. The night air hits her like sharp knives. She breaks out into a smile. She did it … and she didn’t get caught. Her first murder executed by herself. 

Damn, don’t get too excited.

She hurries back to the hotel, feet almost stumbling over the cobblestone, wanting nothing more than to curl up beside you again, be in your arms, feel your skin against hers and be able to kiss your pretty lips. She’s almost giddy, which she knows that she shouldn’t, but she can’t help it. 

She changed out of the black dress and back into her silk pyjamas as soon as she gets back into the dimly lit suite. You haven’t moved an inch and you sleep so soundly she’s afraid breathing too loud will wake you. Before climbing into bed, she takes a picture of you, needing to capture your squishy appearance forever. 

“Where were you …?” you mumble tiredly as Hedwig climbs into bed. 

“I was just out on the balcony for some fresh air”, she replies and pulls you into her arms. “Did I frighten you?”

“I missed you …”

Hedwig grimaces, heart swelling out of her ribs and spilling out into her throat. Her mind makes up. She absolutely did the right thing tonight. She can’t imagine anyone else hearing your voice in this soft, vulnerable way. The fact that you don’t even open your eyes, that you trust her enough to know that it’s her, makes her heart ache. 

“It’s okay, my love”, she whispers and kisses your lips over and over again before leaning her head on yours. “I’m back now. I’m here. I won’t let you go for a second.”

Tomorrow morning, the news will be plastered with the news of the dead model and Hedwig will have to pretend to be distraught and mortified. But for now, she doesn’t hide her smile as she nuzzles closer to your warm, soft body, kissing you over and over again. Her own baby, her pretty girl. All for her again. No one, ever, will be able to have you like this. Only Hedwig. She always wins.

[siloupy]

i have been working on this for a few days now but they are all done . all my designs so far for pin through all the seasons

(because she has been through a lot ... #1 situation haver)

i have lots of thoughts so this is getting put under a read more cause this post might get long

bfdi/season 1

very cutie patootie i think ...... so silly

FUCK ASS BOB . its a pivotal trans experience you see the fuckass bob and you know theyre gonna get so transgender with it eventually. LOL

shes kept her natural hair color up to this point but that most definitely is gonna change later

if youve seen my other pin related posts you know i make a whole thing out of the jacket ...... shes very sentimental about it its very dear to her because shes had it for as long as she can remember (during this season LOL). as of right now its a bit too big for her but the longer that she keeps it and loves it she starts to grow into it <3

hrmmm unsure of what else to say about this one. shes cutesy

bfdia/season 2

lot going on here Hi

I SEE A LOT OF HUMANIZATIONS OF PIN THAT GIVE HER THIS LIKE . super alternative fashion style and stuff. AND IT IS VERY COOL. but like i never really thought it fit her very well if that makes sense ??? like i never really saw it as being very in character but like maybe im just doopid

THAT BEING SAID THOUGH if she were to try and go into any of that now would be the time. i included like a little tiny bit of it. shes experimenting with a lot of stuff she dyes her hair a bit shes having fun and playing

early bfdia pin makes me so sad lowkey like she was so excited and she was so ready to have fun

then ummmm the horrors. you guys all know the horrors weve all seen em

i really like the interpretation of pin's mechy stuff as a wheelchair its very lovely to me

lowkey inspired by @/clarissasbakery 's bfdia pin design (peak) in the sense of like ..... her being all disheveled and shit at this point like shes going through it bad rn. no time to gaf about all that right now yk.

JACKET IS GONE . ive posted about it before back when likeeee i think around when bfdia 19 came out. but like my whole interpretation is that she gave it to coiny before the bfdia 18 challenge since that challenge was at night and probably colder and whatever. and its like this huge thing that she trusts him with it. and then everything immediately goes to shit HAHAHAHHA but coiny has it at this point and keeps it for a while because going to give it back means actually confronting the problems and why would he ever do that right

subject to change a bit based on how the rest of bfdia goes :) ooouu im SO SCARED ABOUT IT SOMEONE SAVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!

idfb/season 3 (VERY SUBJECT TO CHANGE/UPDATE SINCE WE DONT KNOW MUCH ABOUT THIS YET)

i really hope they also come back to this im very intrigued by it

ive mentioned it a couple of times but my hc for pin is that theyre genderqueer :)) any pronouns user but i thiiiink she/her still Mainly just because shes used to them. but like all pronouns are good and cool and awesome

ANYWAYS . this is the time they start figuring all that out i think ..... I SAY THIS LIKE ITS JUST ME HAVING THESE IDEAS me and junofriend scurried around with this hc together a LOT. BUT yeah idfb is when i think pin would be exploring that :) not preoccupied with Losing It in bfdia anymore so he can actually put some thought into that HAHAHA . relearning how to be a well adjusted person again and getting a little transgender with it in the process

im probably nonbinary but ive got a competition to win so idrc about all that right now. LMAOOOO

they cut and bleached their hair aaaaaall by themself. and it looks like shit. <3. again another pivotal transgender experience it simply had to happen

starts using a cane after having to figure out how to walk and stuff again :) ofc coiny helps her with some of that too (and all of the drawings ive seen of that specific thing are SO dear to me) but she has that too

inspired a little bit by some random person's outfit i saw in passing . LMFAO i thought it was cute

bfb/season 4

also maybe subject to change a little bit depending on how idfb goes/if that happens :)

the jacket has been returned :)) and fixed up a bit (this was like. what. 7 years at least of having it after all)

theyre still trying to figure out some stuff appearance wise.....she cleaned up her hairstyle a bit and is letting it grow back in its natural color but still experimenting with keeping it shorter

i LOVE. LOVE LOVE LOVE IT SO MUCH when people have pin and coiny have something like that together that theyre matching ive seen it a few times and i think it is the loveliest little thing in the world. they have the little matching necklaces (which i also included in my last drawing of them together that i posted)

outfit generally reflects him being a bit more reserved and stuff than before ... gotta gain that confidence back throughout the season she gets there eventually

tpot/season 5/current day

JOYPILLED !!!!!!!

during this time he starts getting SO silly with it again in terms of like. presentation and stuff. having fun and playing. hair is getting FULLY dyed again. bringing back some of the piercings. got little pins on the jacket now. having so much fun

in general is just a lot more confident in how they express themself and it brings me so much joy

the cane comes back out occasionally when shes having a particularly bad day and needs to use it again. its got a tiny little bit of decorations now :)

IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY BUT SHES SOOOOO SILLY

OK thats all i have ........ this thang been Plaguing my mind as of late

[milla-frenchy]

Baby we need to talk 👀👀👀

First, this gif is one of my favorites, ever. The guilt and sadness are so beautifully expressed ughhhhh

Second, Javi and angst is one of my favorite genres. And you wrote it so perfectly, this is one of my fave Javi fics for sure 🙏❤️❤️

He'd been a friend from the start, showing you the ropes, offering a cigarette when you stepped out to take a break. You grew closer with each case you worked on, the leads growing stronger, the job riskier. You heard all the rumors about him - he often went against orders, he had a knack for pissing off authority no matter how good of an agent he was - but the biggest rumor about him was that he had a tendency to fuck every willing female in his path. You didn't give it too much credence. He was an American just like you, a Texan by birth, and just trying to do his job. He was single, like you, and in a foreign country. You couldn't blame the man for having some fun. It certainly didn't affect you.

I love, love, love, the way you described all this

You never asked him about his apparent conquests. He was your friend, your partner. But he told you anyway, giving you all the dirty details over bottom-shelf whiskey at the nearest bar in the embassy district. You got the sense he wasn't gloating, nor even confessing. Just spilling his secret:. Blanca had the inside dirt on private parties held by wealthy politicians, which often included visits from men of high rank within the cartels. And Jennifer, one of the secretaries at the embassy, met with him three times a week for a quickie in the filing room, and even after her honeymoon she came right back to work, staying late at the office, under Javi's desk with his dick in her mouth.

OMG. This paragraph is SO beautifully written. The fact that he wasn't gloating or confessing is SO Javi. And that last sentence, oh my 😍😍😍

There wasn't a thing you didn't know about Javier Peña. And while you yourself harbored an innocent crush on him, you merely shook your head at hearing of his antics. Every Friday you found yourselves talking, laughing, even gossiping over your drinks as the evening gave way to night. And when the bar closed he'd walk you home,

I want this with him. I just want this 🥹🥹🥹

Javi's in a suit now, so different from the days of his barely-buttoned short sleeve shirts and tight jeans. His hair is a little longer, combed to the side, the little curls at the nape of his neck gone, the ones you used to tease him about and call him a baby duck.

Damn, you're killing me with this description. And the angst is coming and I'm so scared 🫣🫣🫣

As if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks your way, and it looks like his eyes widen as he stops in his tracks, nearly fumbling in his steps. You manage a meager wave, giving a smile, but he doesn't do anything in response. Not even a curt nod. He turns his gaze from you and walks on, into a corridor where you can no longer see him.

Fuuuuuuuckkkkk

Everyone else gets back to work as you wait, feeling out of place.

I love this. This feeling is so real, I hate this feeling 😅

The clacking of computer keys has you imagining typing up a report, the way you used to after a big raid or breakthrough, Javi at the desk in front of yours. pouring some tequila in a couple glasses for you to celebrate, loosening his tie. No matter what, he never touched you. Not like that. Ever. And a part of you always wanted him to. The closest you got was a side-armed hug as he walked you to your car the very last day of your work here.

You're killing me with this fic, this is so good I'm in awe

You're still here, looking right at Javi as his eyes find you, the harshness in them softens a little, perhaps at Rita's soft pleading. You ignore the crazy skip of your heart's beat as he keeps his gaze on you, his chest expanding as he takes in a deep gulp of air. In an instant it's gone, the stony glare from before now in its place. He says some curt words to Rita, who pauses, a baffled look on her bespectacled face. Javi replies, his face growing red, obviously not changing his mind. Rita goes for the door but turns around, saying one more thing to him, looking rather high and mighty about it. She meets you where she's left you, a sad sort of smile on her face. "He's busy," she says quickly. "He sends his regrets, dear."

OUCH. This hurts so, so bad 🥺🥺🥺

And then the ending with her husband is so good and perfect, and things are so perfectly expressed. Poor Javi 🥺🥺

"I think you broke his heart when you left." That thought had never occurred to you. It's a strange, foreign concept. Javi had treated you differently, but you supposed he just didn't need to get involved emotionally, physically, sexually with someone he'd work with personally every day. He slept with almost everyone in the workplace except you, and you'd considered yourself safe from his charms. "It makes sense," your husband continues. "From everything you've told me, Javi's had the hots for you since day one." You scoff at this idea at first. Then, thinking more deeply on it, the pieces start to come together. What if Javi had harbored these feelings for you and never told you, just let them sour in his heart until it turned bitter against you after all these years? "He never told me. The way he dismissed me you'd think we were strangers all this time.."

This is so Javi...

One of my favorite Javi fic for sure. It hurts, but it hurts beautifully. You queen!!

don't come around here no more

javier peña x f!reader | wc: 1.8k

summary: On a visit to Colombia, you're reunited with old work friends.. Javi is the only one who doesn't come to say hi...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Work relationship. Hidden feelings. Mentions of sex work and office hookups/infidelity. Brief mention of smut. A tiny bit of emotional infidelity. Reader is not described apart from having worn skirts on occasion in the workplace. No use of y/n. Not beta'd.

a/n 1: this is a personal one, based on an experience I had a couple months ago when I dropped by an old workplace. Not gonna lie, it stung when an old friend (and work husband) of mine didn't want to see me. But I'm okay with not knowing. Writing this has been therapeutic 🤍

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You haven't been to the embassy in almost five years.

You'd spent over a decade of your life in service to the government, tracking down the bad guys until worse guys came along and then you'd work on catching them too, and on and on it went, cyclical. You never thought you'd dream of something more until you were offered a better chance back in the States.

Atlanta wasn't your hometown, but it was American soil and it offered more pay. You wouldn't have to worry about guerrillas and crooked cops there. They called and said they needed you. You answered that call, and left your post at the embassy.

Perhaps the hardest thing was leaving Javier Peña behind.

He'd been a friend from the start, showing you the ropes, offering a cigarette when you stepped out to take a break. You grew closer with each case you worked on, the leads growing stronger, the job riskier.

You heard all the rumors about him - he often went against orders, he had a knack for pissing off authority no matter how good of an agent he was - but the biggest rumor about him was that he had a tendency to fuck every willing female in his path.

You didn't give it too much credence. He was an American just like you, a Texan by birth, and just trying to do his job. He was single, like you, and in a foreign country. You couldn't blame the man for having some fun. It certainly didn't affect you.

Then the rumors grew worse. You heard about certain CIs of his, women who walked the streets, spent time in the beds of powerful drug lords.. they had information that he needed. Not uncommon for agents to strike deals with these women. Cops and agents all over did the same. Only thing was, Javi had a penchant for sleeping with them too.

You never asked him about his apparent conquests. He was your friend, your partner. But he told you anyway, giving you all the dirty details over bottom-shelf whiskey at the nearest bar in the embassy district. You got the sense he wasn't gloating, nor even confessing. Just spilling his secret:. Blanca had the inside dirt on private parties held by wealthy politicians, which often included visits from men of high rank within the cartels. And Jennifer, one of the secretaries at the embassy, met with him three times a week for a quickie in the filing room, and even after her honeymoon she came right back to work, staying late at the office, under Javi's desk with his dick in her mouth.

There wasn't a thing you didn't know about Javier Peña. And while you yourself harbored an innocent crush on him, you merely shook your head at hearing of his antics. Every Friday you found yourselves talking, laughing, even gossiping over your drinks as the evening gave way to night. And when the bar closed he'd walk you home,

And now you're back in Colombia, the air the same as you remember, the sky and even the buildings the same hues, pinks and purples and yellows to entertain the eye. It's as if time stopped the moment you left on your flight to Georgia.

You're welcomed back after being given clearance to the building, your former fellow civil servants greeting you with wide smiles, asking how your new posting is, what it's like in your new town, what your new husband is like. You answer them, taking a look around and noting the tiny changes in personnel. Wendy is on maternity leave, Felipe is retiring, and there's some leftover cake in the fridge which you're invited to have. You're trying to catch up with everyone, recollecting kids' and grandkids' names, when you catch a glimpse of him across the way, coming out of the elevator.

Javi's in a suit now, so different from the days of his barely-buttoned short sleeve shirts and tight jeans. His hair is a little longer, combed to the side, the little curls at the nape of his neck gone, the ones you used to tease him about and call him a baby duck.

As if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks your way, and it looks like his eyes widen as he stops in his tracks, nearly fumbling in his steps. You manage a meager wave, giving a smile, but he doesn't do anything in response. Not even a curt nod. He turns his gaze from you and walks on, into a corridor where you can no longer see him.

Rita, one of the clerks you'd worked closely with during your time at the embassy and who'd been like a mother to you, finds you and embraces you with a warm hug. She still smells like Giorgio Beverly Hills. "How have you been, my dear? We've all missed you so much," she says, pulling you away from her so she can admire the casualness of your look. She'd only ever seen you in pantsuits and the occasional skirt, and now she likes the new you: jeans and a relaxed button down blouse, at ease with life, albeit still chasing criminals.

"I'm well," you answer her, eyes still darting around for Javi. Where did he go? He'd surely seen you. "I've missed you all. The states are so different after being away so long."

Rita's eyes widen in realization. "I have to tell Javi that you're here!" she whispers conspiratorially, as if somehow she's reading your mind. "I'll go get him." She pats your arm and hurries away in the direction you saw him go earlier.

Everyone else gets back to work as you wait, feeling out of place. Your fingers itch to comb through files, to answer the ringing phones with hopes of a hot tip. The clacking of computer keys has you imagining typing up a report, the way you used to after a big raid or breakthrough, Javi at the desk in front of yours. pouring some tequila in a couple glasses for you to celebrate, loosening his tie.

No matter what, he never touched you. Not like that. Ever.

And a part of you always wanted him to. The closest you got was a side-armed hug as he walked you to your car the very last day of your work here.

Your eyes wander to your old office, the blinds open, and through the slats you see Javi turning in his chair as Rita raps at his door. You can barely make out the gruff "come in" from his lips. Rita approaches him a bit timidly, all smiles, hands clasped at her waist.

She's explaining that you're here, that this is probably a once in a lifetime chance because retired agents don't typically come back. They become too invested in their new lives, new cases, or worse.. they retire for good, put into the earth when a bullet finds its way to its target or a bomb goes off.

You're still here, looking right at Javi as his eyes find you, the harshness in them softens a little, perhaps at Rita's soft pleading. You ignore the crazy skip of your heart's beat as he keeps his gaze on you, his chest expanding as he takes in a deep gulp of air.

In an instant it's gone, the stony glare from before now in its place. He says some curt words to Rita, who pauses, a baffled look on her bespectacled face. Javi replies, his face growing red, obviously not changing his mind. Rita goes for the door but turns around, saying one more thing to him, looking rather high and mighty about it.

She meets you where she's left you, a sad sort of smile on her face. "He's busy," she says quickly. "He sends his regrets, dear."

You look back into Javi's office and find him already staring at you. He swiftly drops his gaze, pretending to read a file as he casually closes the office blinds.

"Rita, what's going on?" you ask her, disheartened because this is now how you'd hoped this reunion would go.

She only shakes her head, pursing her lips. "I don't know, honey.. I really don't know."

At the hotel, your husband is relaxing on the bed watching an old Colombian telenovela. He turns down the volume, patting the space next to him as you come in. "How'd it go?" he asks, watching you shed your jacket and hook your purse around a chair. "I'm guessing you didn't get the welcome you hoped for." His brows creases with worry as he strokes your hair. You lean into his touch, wishing you could dislodge the heavy stone of disappointment now resting in your belly. He's always so attentive towards you, so thoughtful. He knows all about Javi and your time with the embassy. Tears prick at the edge of your eyes and you do your best to blink them away, but he's there already with a tissue as his arm goes around you.

"I wish I knew why he didn't want to see me. What did I do wrong? We were partners for years.. friends too. And after all these years he treats me like it all meant nothing.."

"It's okay," your husband soothes you. "Can I tell you something you might not want to hear?"

"Right now I'd love for anyone to be honest with me," you sniffle.

"I think you broke his heart when you left."

That thought had never occurred to you. It's a strange, foreign concept. Javi had treated you differently, but you supposed he just didn't need to get involved emotionally, physically, sexually with someone he'd work with personally every day. He slept with almost everyone in the workplace except you, and you'd considered yourself safe from his charms.

"It makes sense," your husband continues. "From everything you've told me, Javi's had the hots for you since day one."

You scoff at this idea at first. Then, thinking more deeply on it, the pieces start to come together. What if Javi had harbored these feelings for you and never told you, just let them sour in his heart until it turned bitter against you after all these years? "He never told me. The way he dismissed me you'd think we were strangers all this time.."

“Do you feel like you missed out? Would you have given him that chance when you were partners?”

It’s not an odd question, just one that takes you by surprise. Any adulterous thoughts are usually played off as jokes between you. You’re that comfortable with each other. But to give an honest answer requires more strength than you possess at the moment.

“No.. I wouldn’t have risked our friendship or our working relationship like that.”

Your husband kisses your cheek, still soothing you as he strokes your hair. "Baby, sometimes the best way to show our love for someone is to let them go."

Let him go.

a/n 2: adding some music inspo. Of course the title is from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers:

and secondly, after my real life non-encounter with my former friend, I heard this song in a restaurant while I was still in a daze. It's such a sad and beautiful melody. (They Will Destroy You is always good when you're moody)

tagging those interested: @regularjoel @stevie75 @tateypots

@titabel @milla-frenchy @mystickittytaco @thesassyteacher91

@dilfsw @ghoulzlovez @axshadows @selinakpe

@inept-the-magnificent

[elephantbitterhead]

This attempt to grow slightly longer hair is really destroying my will to go on. I think I'll just bring a picture of Tintin to my next appointment.

This is a good choice because there's no hair touching Tintin's face & annoying the living shit out of him all day long.

[telephonemarketer]

genderfluid aro bi (middle school) -> bi transman (high school) -> bigender bi butch (early college) -> butch lesbian (late college)

[slxxtz]

Head empty, just thinking about Nanami and his sweet girlfriend who just wants to give him head :3

He was trying to be so nice to you, he didn't want to rush you, being ever the gentleman.

But how is he supposed to keep his composure when you are there, sitting so prettily between his legs, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours as you needily paw at his cock?

“please Ken?” you murmured out, resting your head on his beefy thigh, a soft pout curling on your lips as you trailed your gaze down from his face to the object of your interest.

Kento let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand over his face as he gently shook his head, a ruggish smile pulling at his handsome face as he gently cupped your chin.

“sweetheart..”he breathed softly, his breath hitching slightly as he felt you cup his cock, his body instinctively responding to your soft touch as he throbbed in his slacks. “You really don't have to..”

“but I want to!” you whined softly, eager hands working open his belt, pulling down his zipper as you forced yourself to look up at him, a soft huff leaving your lips. “you always make me feel so good Ken... wanna take care of you too...”

“wanna make you feel good today...”

The moment those words left your lips, Kento could feel his resolve crumbling away, a soft grunt falling from his lips as he threw his head back upon feeling you trail open mouthed kiss against his boxer briefs, his cock pulsing insistently under your gentle caresses.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Kento finally relented, giving in to the growing lust gnawing at his gut as he gently petted your hair, his free hand working to pull out his throbbing shaft, the angry red tip almost slapping your chin as it bounced free, leaking preecum and demanding the attention of your sweet lips once more. “..alright then...”

Who was he to deny his sweet girl after all? Especially when she begged so sweetly... He was only human!

The awe in your eyes every time he pulled out his cock never failed to make him hum with delight. His sweet girl was really just a slut at heart for him. He didn't even get to utter another word before he felt your pretty lips wrap around his cock, lazily swirling your tongue around the angry red tip as your hands gently stroked his shaft, savoring the intimacy of it all as your eyes fluttered shut, humming contently around his cock.

It was going to be a long night... But who was Kento to complain?

A/N: Just a little blurb, I miss my glorious blonde king :( </3

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― The playground falls silent when Sukuna's shadow darkens the entrance.

Six foot four of raw muscle and barely contained violence, his black fitted shirt strained against broad shoulders. Scarred knuckles told stories of shattered jaws and walls alike. The tattoos that snake up his arms and across his face, ancient markings that ward away anyone foolish enough to cross him. Three prison stints. Fourteen confirmed hospitalizations of those who dared cross his path. And whispers… dark, unsettling rumors, of bodies that were never found.

But, cradled against his chest -those same hands that have crushed windpipes- holds his little girl, five years old with eyes just like his. She clutches her plastic watering can painted with daisies, her other hand firmly gripping Sukuna’s shirt like she’s taming a beast. 

"Down Papa! My flowers are thirsty!!" she demands, completely unfazed by her father whose mere presence makes grown men piss themselves…

"Tch. Such a brat, just like your mother." Sukuna growls, the same tone that makes  other parents clutch their kids a little tighter when he walks by, but the girl laughs and squeals with delight as he swings her around and sets her down.

The other parents keep their distance, their fear of Sukuna quite palpable, fueled by the whispers that cling to his name like a curse. But they watch- oh how they watch. Their eyes following him, as if expecting him to do something to prove the rumors true. Sukuna notices, a cruel smile splitting his face, revealing teeth, "What're you looking at?" he snarls at a gawking teenager, who stumbles backward in terror.

Their fear amuses him, but their opinions? Worthless.

He doesn’t care what they think, doesn’t care what they say.

He isn’t here for them anyway. He’s here for one reason, to make sure no one’s foolish enough to lay a hand on his little girl. If anyone dares, if anyone is stupid enough to try, they’ll see it firsthand. They’ll realize the stories don’t even scratch the surface. He’ll show them exactly why they should fear him- why calling him a monster is an insult to what he truly is.

"Papa! Look!" his little girl holds up a tiny daisy, "This one's for you! It's a gift, from me to you." She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling and full of love, as if he doesn’t scare the shit out of everyone else.

His face, usually frozen in a permanent scowl, softens imperceptibly, "Put it back in the ground, kid. Flowers need to grow..."

"Nooo," she pouts, "Mama gave me more seeds to plant and this one told me it wants to be with you!" She reaches up, impossibly small hand extended.

"Stubborn little-," he mutters as he crouches down, allowing her to tuck the flower behind his ear.

"See, now you're pretty just like the garden and mama!" She beams at him, her arms spread wide in a dramatic gesture of pride.

For a split second his eyes widen, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. Pretty? Him? "I'm not pretty…" he growls, but doesn't remove the flower.

"You are to me," she says softly before wrapping her little arms around his neck, squeezing him tight and kissing him on his tatted cheek, "I love you, Papa."

Sukuna feels his heart skip a beat, then two, his throat tightening as the words leave his little brats lips. He can't bring himself to say it back- not here… He can't form the words he desperately wants to say…

Instead, his rough hands wrap around her, one hand on the back of her head, the other pressing her into his shoulder, "Yeah yeah…" His grip is gentle, almost tentative, like she might disappear if he squeezes too hard, "Me too…"

He feels her lips curl into a smile against him, and it's the only answer he needs. She understands, just like you do, the way he shows his love instead of saying it.

"C'mon," he ruffles her hair, "your mother will have my ass if I don't get us home." He takes her hand, fingers engulfing hers.

"Don't worry, Papa, the flowers will protect us!!"

As they walk home, her tiny hand disappearing in his massive one, Sukuna still wears the bloom behind his ear. A passing man stares a bit too long for Sukuna’s liking and receives a glare promising slow, creative violence if he doesn't look away immediately.

But his daughter just swings their joined hands, chattering about which seeds she'll plant next, completely unafraid of the monster whose reputation makes hardened criminals wake in cold sweats.

She is his one weakness, though he'd gut anyone who suggested it.

And he is her guardian- her hero, and she reminds him daily.

The fearsome Sukuna, brought to his knees by a little girl who talks to flowers.

Prt. 2 │⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad, 18+ mdni! 

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”  

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.   

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already. 

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?” 

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?” 

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.  

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs. 

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.    

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.   

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.    

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.    

“Yeah? You like it?”    

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend��really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.    

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”    

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.    

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.  

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.  

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.   

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.    

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips. 

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way. 

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”  

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.    

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.    

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.    

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.    

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.    

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.  

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.    

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.     

However, she merely grants him another whine.   

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.   

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.    

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.   

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.  

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.  

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.    

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.    

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.    

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”    

“You do?”    

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”    

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.    

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.    

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.  

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.    

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.   

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.    

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”  

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.    

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.    

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.    

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”   

She shakes her head.   

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.    

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.  

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.   

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.    

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.   

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.    

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.   

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.  

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

[nezuscribe]

you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—geto showing gojo how to fuck you like you deserve

pairing: geto x fem! reader x gojo

content: smut, voyeurism, cuckholding, creampie, cunnulingus, cum eating (gojo eats geto’s cum out of you), praise, degradation, hair pulling, fingering, fingering, consensual cheating, overstimulation, choking

a/n: i’m really sorry for the repost, tumblr flagged the first one :’)

Geto showing Gojo how to fuck you, Gojo’s darling little girlfriend, just right. Gojo sitting on the single sofa in the two’s shared living room. With Geto on the large one and you on his lap with long fingers deep inside you, curling against your g spot as he pumped them in and out. His other hand was wrapped tightly around your neck, forcing you to keep direct eye contact with your boyfriend.

Gojo gulped hard as he felt his boner grow impossibly harder, straining against his pants as his face grew hot at the sight. Soft moans and pants were leaving your pretty lips as your body jerked with every thrust of Geto’s fingers. “See that? I’m barely even doing anything and she’s becoming a mess.” Geto scoffed, giving you no warning as he began hammering his long fingers into you at a rapid pace.

The curled digits were hitting your spot so perfectly, making you cry out loudly in pleasure. Your legs threatening to close as you whimpered, letting out a yelp when Geto slapped your thigh in warning. “Behave, slut.” You whimpered once more, teary eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as your mouth hung open in pure ecstasy.

“F-fuck.. feels.. f-feels so good,” you moaned, eyes closing as you tried to lean back against the huge man.

“Look at him. Look at your boyfriend try to contain his boner.” Geto increased the pressure on your throat, keeping your head in place as you looked towards Gojo who kept looking away. “Bet he’s never even made you feel this good,” he falsely cooed, sending Gojo a smirk before focusing his attention back on you.

A loud moan escaped your throat when Geto inserted a third finger, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. His fingers curling against your gummy walls, and you could do nothing but whimper and cry as you neared your orgasm. “A-ah—” you mewled “m gonna, ngh— ‘m g-gonna cum,” you moaned, body starting to tremble as you felt a not so familiar coil building up in your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers and show your boyfriend what he could never do?” You nodded vigorously, your head empty as you babbled out little yeses and pleases. Geto’s eyes connected with his roommate’s, a teasing smirk on his face, “you know, you can get off to me ruining your girl if you’d like, there’s no shame in it,” he shrugged.

Gojo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he cussed the black haired man under his breath. Geto brought his lips down to your ear, “as for you, you don’t get to come until you’re nothing but a brain less slut on my cock.”

With that, the man removed his fingers from your now fluttering hole, causing you to whine out in protest, tears pooling in your eyes as you felt the coil slowly subside.

Geto lifted you up with ease, placing you on your hands and knees with your face towards Gojo before filling you up immediately. His length reaching deep inside you making you let out a soundless scream. Geto started off rough, fucking into you like he had nothing for you but hatred.

His hips slammed bruisingly against your ass, cock bullying its way against your g spot with every merciless thrust. Your eyes rolled back as you let him flatten your cheek onto the cushion of the chair. Drool pooling near the side of your mouth as you were rocked back and forth at a speed that seemed humanly impossible.

Your head was foggy, loud sobs and incoherent moans of his name spilling past your lips. “C’mon, you can do better than that. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” Geto grunted.

“Y-you— fuck- you are, ahh,” you let out a loud cry, “you’re making me- nghh— making me feel this good. Can feel you so deep,” You whimpered, hesitantly looking towards your boyfriend’s direction to find him cock in hand, trying his hardest to match his fist to the rhythm of his friend’s thrusts.

Gojo groaned loudly when his eyes met yours, the sight of your fucked out face sending blood straight to his dick. Geto chuckled at the other male, gripping onto the curve of your waist as he continued to hammer into you, angling himself to hit all the right spots to drive you crazy.

You mewled as you arched your back, his cock practically pushing against the skin of your lower stomach with each movement of his hips. “There we go..” he cooed, watching as your face contorted into one of a pretty little slut who craved nothing but cock. His cock.

“See that? This is exactly what the bitch needs to look like. Like there’s nothing else in the world but your cock fucking into her, isn’t that right baby?” he groaned.

“Mhm!” you cried.

“Fucking hell- you’re so tight, feels like you’re gonna break me in half,” Geto grunted. And all you did was let out an incoherent babble in response, barely even registering his words as you were fucked into oblivion. Your eyes teary with nothing but pleasure.

Stars clouded your vision and your toes curled as you neared your release, “S-suguru.. ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum. Wanna be your good girl ‘n cum on your cock,” you cried out in between broken mewls, eyes puffy as you tried to look back at him.

“You’re an even bigger slut than I thought, I hope your little boyfriend is taking notes on how to treat his slutty little girlfriend.” his voice was deep and raspy as he neared his own high. “Go ahead- fuck, look him in the eyes and cum for me.”

You let out a string of high pitched moans when he began to rub your clit, your brain fuzzy as glassy eyes looked towards Gojo. His mouth opened in pants and groans as he approached his orgasm with you. “Ngh— ahh. Gonna cum Suguru- ‘m a good girl right? P-please tell me ‘m a good girl,” you whined.

Geto’s eyes widened, his dick twitching at the pure desperation in your voice as you begged to be praised. He smirked, watching your ass recoil with each of his harsh thrusts. He hummed, “Such a good fucking girl for me, taking me so well.” His breathing getting heavier by the second, “Fuck, you’re my good girl baby.”

You let out a high pitched cry, “T-thank you, thank you, oh god ‘m cumming— nghh.” Eyes never leaving your boyfriend’s as your body quivered, pussy tightening as you came all over another man’s cock.

Gojo did not take long to follow after you, “Oh f-fuckk.” he groaned out as his body spasmed, fist halting around his reddened cock as his cum spilled onto his stomach in hot spurts.

Satisfied, Geto pulled you up by your hair, your back arched against his chest as he continued to fuck into you relentlessly. Pulling out another loud string of moans from your swollen lips. His head fell back, never slowing his pace as he reached closer and closer to his release.

He grunted, his breath hot on your ear when he let out a long groan. “Gonna cum in you baby— gonna fuck you full and make your boyfriend eat you out.” He whispered, his dark eyes meeting Gojo’s hungry ones.

“You’d love that won’t you baby?” you nodded with a shaky whine at his teasing coo, feeling his thrusts becoming hard and slow.

Geto let out a string of curses, stilling inside you and allowing his cum to fill your tight pussy to the brim. A glare on his face when Gojo opened his mouth to protest.

“That’s it. Take my cum deep. This is exactly how pretty little sluts like you need to be treated.” he coaxed, slowly pulling out of you for the milky substance to seep out your hole in spurts.

“Now, Satoru. Come clean her up.” his deep voice demanded. Sitting back with you on his thighs. His rough hands spreading your legs open towards your boyfriend.

Your folds glistened with your wetness, his cum slowly dripping out of you as you clenched around nothing. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Gojo stood up. Being stopped by Geto who grinned.

“Crawl.”

Gojo huffed lowly, getting down on his knees and crawling his way over to you. His tongue swiping over his lips before he found his head buried between your thighs. A soft whimper sounding from your throat at the light overstimulation to your sensitive clit.

Gojo licked up your folds, sucking both your sweetness and geto’s saltiness onto his tongue. You moaned loudly when he latched his mouth onto the small bud, his tongue swirling around it making a string of cries fill the room.

Geto watched in amusement as his friend devoured your sopping pussy. His long tongue dipping into your hole and curling into your painted walls. You let out a mewl, your head resting on Geto’s hard chest as your boyfriend used you as his meal.

“O-oh, S-Satoru baby,” you mewled, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging with every movement of his wet tongue. “F-fuck— so good.” you let out a broken cry when Gojo thrusted two of his slender fingers into you. Lewd squelching sounds echoing the walls as he fucked them into you.

Your pussy gushed onto his hand, the man’s skilled tongue unable to keep up with your leaking juices. Your eyes rolled back when he sucked on your clit once more, body shaking lightly at the sensitivity.

Geto smiled, kissing down your neck while running his thumb along your bottom lip. Slipping it inside and pressing it at the back of your tongue. He hummed, “Think we should feed his lil ego?” Your head tilting to the side to let him graze the skin of your neck with his teeth. “Make a mess on his tongue?”

You twisted and turned as your second orgasm washed over you. You were so sensitive, trying to squirm away but having your legs held tightly opened by Geto. “O-oh fuck— ahh, ‘s too much.”

Gojo moaned into you, his face becoming more drenched by the second as he feasted on your wetness. Hungrily lapping up everything you had to give. Your pussy squirting messily against the force of his fingers inside you.

“Look at that,” Geto teased, “Finally made your girlfriend squirt.”

Gojo kept on with his torture, loud whines and mewls falling past your lips as he became drunk on your pussy. His eyes closed and his mouth latched onto you tight. His face moving along with the movements of your hips trying to escape him.

“S-satoru— nngh- too much.” you sobbed, your legs twitching and your hips jerking as your back arched, your boyfriend getting back to almost painfully licking at your clit. “Satoru, ‘m too sensitive- fuck.” Gojo only looked up at you with half opened eyes, the only thing on his mind being how fucking good you tasted on his tongue.

Geto groaned, your teary face making his dick rock hard again. “Give him one more yeah? You can take it.”

Your second one did not take long to engulf you whole. Your legs trembling once more as you cried out loudly. Mewls of Gojo’s name falling from your tongue as your stomach tightened, pussy spilling even more onto his face. Gojo kept his face buried in you, tongue still making its final laps despite your constant whimpers.

“Okay now, that’s enough.” Geto laughed, peeling Gojo off of you by his hair. Your boyfriend letting out a groan as he tried to latch back onto you. “Gotta get our girl cleaned up now.”

[htchnr]

ミ★ aching knees ꜜ FRED WEASLEY.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, in which you fall asleep against Fred's thigh in the common room and it absolutely fries his tired brain. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, first Fred fic ⋆ not proofread whoops i wrote this at 4am ⋆ Fred being an infatuated idiot ⋆ George (lovingly) bullying him ⋆ the golden trio is there for 2 seconds as well. ꜜwc,, 0,5k. 」

「 authors note,, first Fred fic y'all 🫣 let me know what you thought + letting you know that he's now also on my request list so if y'all want me to write more you can send me ideas!. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

the low sounds of students chattering and moving about the common room acts as a lulling sound as you sit on the floor against the couch with Fred, George and the trio while they all talk about your plans for the holidays.

Fred and George talk lively about their plans of mischief while Ron groans in dramatic misery. Harry and Hermione laugh along with the twins' wild ideas.

you yawn, leaning to the side as you rest your head against Fred's thigh who was sitting behind you on the couch. your eyes droop, the melodic sound of everyone's laughter and chatter mixing with the low sounds of the common room noise slowly lulling you to sleep.

Fred barely thinks about it as he moves a hand down to stroke through your hair as your head rests against his thigh. he's still engaged in the conversation, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your messy strands.

George smiles to himself as he catches glimpse of the sight, a know-it-all grin on his lips.

the conversation dwindles after a while, everyone growing tired after the long day. Fred in the meantime has moved from the couch to the floor beside you, your head in his lap and his fingers never leaving your hair. Hermione bids everyone a goodnight, leaving for the girl's dorm as she could barely keep her eyes open.

the twins keep up quiet conversation with Ron and Harry, reminiscing about old pranks or soddy teachers.

George makes a teasing jab about how 'Fred's knees will surely kill him in the morning after sitting too long like this', but Fred shakes his head tiredly. he doesn't mind the dull ache he'll indeed feel, as long as you're at peace and catch some sleep.

besides, he would take any pain if it meant to have you this close to him.

George laughs quietly, standing up with low cracks of his own knees. he makes one last remark along the lines of 'i swear you two are so blind', before he heads up the boy's dorms to sleep.

Harry laughs along at Fred's slightly red cheeks, getting up as well. he bids Fred a goodnight, heading off to his dorm.

Fred sighs tiredly as he looks down at your sleeping form. damn his already aching knees, you look too cute to care about the dull pain. he strokes a stray strand of hair from your face, mentally kicking himself for still not having made a move.

though, he muses, if only you'd stop making him stutter and trip over his words with those damn eyes every time he'd try.

tomorrow, he nods to himself. knowing that your full attention will make him a stumbling mess once he tries once more. but this time, he huffs as he closes his eyes, this time he'll push through and finally get the words out.

[sadiesdoll]

sevika with a breeding kink. ♡ | 2 |

drunk!sevika x reader. | sevika is cumming inside of you !! (mdni ♡) sevika with a breeding kink. ♡ (1)

contains: breeding kink, forced drooling, spit play, praise kink, body praise, worship kink, clit play, daddy kink (im sorry.), size kink, finger sucking, hair pulling, strength kink, magic dick growing potion thingy, possessive language, mirror sex, alcohol use (both parties intoxicated but consenting), backshots, thigh riding & aftercare ♡

a/n: the content warnings are scaring me omg I promise it’s not that hardcore.. more desperate!sevika for yew guys cus ily ♡

Enjoy ♡

Jinx blinks. Just once. Then again.

“..You good?"

Sevika looks like sin incarnate—glassy red eyes, teeth sunk into her bottom lip, arms caged tight around your waist like she'll die if she lets go. You're straddling her, panting, flushed, and trembling.

You don't even speak. You just nod, slow and stiff.

Jinx stares for a second longer. Then, as if her brain suddenly boots back up, she gags. "NOPE—NO, actually—you two are sick—freaks—I'm leaving."

The door slams shut before you can even say anything.

Silence.

Then Sevika exhales through her nose, a deep, strangled sound—half-laugh, half-panic.

"She saw," she slurs.

"She's gone," you whisper, still seated on her lap, still catching your breath.

You lean in, nose brushing hers.

"Breathe, baby. You're okay."

Sevika doesn't answer. She trembles.

You can feel her hands still gripping your hips like a lifeline.

Her eyes flicker open. They're darker than before. Wrecked.

"I'm not," she mumbles. "I'm fucking not. You don't get it—You don't—"

"Shhh..." you coo. You kiss the corner of her mouth. "What's goin' on in that crazy brain, huh?"

She huffs. "I can't stop. I can't stop thinking about it. About you. Fuck—look at you—sitting on me like that—grinding like that—your fuckin' body—your smell—your heat—your thighs, fuck-"

Your brows lift in faux-innocence. "You wanna get me pregnant, huh?"

She freezes.

You shift your hips just a little, grinding down soft and slow.

Her head drops back against the floor, a rasp torn from her throat.

You smile, mean and sweet. "You wanna cum so bad inside me, don't you?"

"Keep doing that," she begs, voice raw.

"Say that shit. Say it again." You roll your hips harder, taking your time. Her hands slide to your ass, squeezing so hard it burns.

"Want me like this?" you purr. "You want me slow, needy, makin' a mess on your lap while you try to hold it all in for me?"

"Fuck," she groans. "Don't stop—don't you dare stop—“

The moment stretches. Gets heavier. Wetter. The wet spot between your thighs grows, soaking through your shorts and onto her jeans, darkening the denim right where her cock would be. You know she feels it. Her body shudders.

Sevika lifts her head. Looks down. Sees it.

And her entire soul exits her body.

"Oh my God," she whispers. Like she's seen an angel. "You're soaked."

You smile slow. "I know.”

"I didn't even touch you yet," she says in awe. "Didn't even—fuck—what the fuck."

Her hand slides between your bodies, cupping you right over the wet patch.

You whimper, and she moans right with you, palm flexing.

"You're like—dripping." She's talking to herself now. "Just from grinding. That's—fuck, baby."

You lean down, breath warm against her ear. "You're lucky I love you like this."

Then she snaps.

She grabs your thighs, stands up with you still straddling her, and walks straight to the bedroom, jaw clenched like a man on a mission.

You yelp. "Baby—!"

She throws you onto the bed—soft but heavy, just enough to knock the air from your lungs.

Then she rushes to the dresser and pulls out a little vial of glowing, dark-blue liquid.

You stare. "What is that..?"

Sevika hesitates. Her fingers are trembling.

"It's a potion," she mutters. "Magic. I—I got it from this guy. At that fucked up bar in Stillwater."

You blink. "Okaaaay... what does it do?"

She swallows hard. "It gives me a cock.

A real one. For an hour."

Your stomach drops. "Wait—what?"

"I've been keeping it," she says, voice low, raw with shame. "For months. I didn't know if you'd want it—if you'd hate it—I didn't wanna scare you. But I can't—fuck—baby, I need you. I can't pretend anymore."

You sit up slowly, eyes softening. "You kept that from me?"

"I'm sorry," she chokes. "I was scared. I didn't want you to think I was fucked in the head. I just—please tell me you're not mad. Please—please tell me you still want this."

You crawl to the edge of the bed, cup her face, and whisper, "I-I want you in every way you want me.”

And that's when she loses her mind— 

Her eyes—fucking blown, wild, locked on you like a starving animal—flicker to your face as if asking one last time. One last chance to back out. One last breath before drowning.

You nod, panting. “It’s okay.”

And you just whisper, "Do it, Sev."

Your lips just barely touch hers when Sevika grabs your hips and rolls you underneath her.

"Lay back," she growls. Her voice is wrecked. "Show me."

You obey instantly, falling onto your back, thighs already spread for her.

Sevika crawls over you, hovering—one knee between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, the other still clutching that glowing blue vial like her life depends on it.

"You sure?" she breathes.

"Sevika," you whisper, trembling,

"Drink it."

She pops the cork with her teeth and downs it in one gulp.

The change is instant. Her whole body jolts, muscles tightening beneath her skin. She groans through gritted teeth, grabbing at the bedframe like she's grounding herself. Then her eyes snap open, bloodshot and wide.

And you feel it. A hot, pulsing pressure growing between her legs. She shudders, staring down at you like she's about to lose her mind.

"I can feel it," she pants. "Fuck—I can feel you already-"

You whimper. "C'mere, baby. Let me see."

She leans back, undoes her belt with shaking hands, and drags her jeans down her hips. You blink—

And your whole body goes stiff.

Thick. Heavy. Veiny. Leaking.

"Oh…. my God."

Sevika's face is pure, desperate hunger.

"You still want this, right?"

Your legs fall open wider. "I need it."

She moans like she's already inside you.

"Fuck, fuck—Baby, look at you—“

Her hands roam like she doesn't know where to touch first. She palms your tits, mouth crashing down to suck and bite at your nipples until you're whining and arching under her. One hand moves lower, sliding between your legs, feeling how wet you are—

"Shit," she pants. "You're dripping. You're gonna take all of it, yeah?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, baby—I promise. Just fuck me—please—“

"No," she whispers. "Not like this."

She grabs you and manhandles your body off the bed, dragging you toward the giant floor mirror mounted to the wall. She kneels behind you, legs spread, guiding your ass down onto her lap.

"Want you to watch," she growls, licking a stripe up your neck. "Want you to see yourself cum all over me."

You moan as her tip nudges your cunt.

She holds you tight. "You ready, angel?"

You whimper. "Fuck me, Daddy—please—“

Sevika freezes. Her breath catches. Her arms flex around you like she might break in half.

“...Say that again."

You smirk, eyes hazy. "Please, Daddy. I want it so bad—I wanna feel all of you—“

She slams up into you in one deep, brutal thrust.

You scream.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the cry as her cock slams to the hilt. Your eyes roll back. Your stomach bulges—visibly. Sevika sees it in the mirror, sees the thick outline of her dick pressing up through your gut— and she fucking collapses.

She bends low, breath hitching, kissing a trail down your trembling torso while she moans against your skin.

“Look," she breathes, mouth still on your throat, voice muffled and shaky. Her hand grabs your jaw, turns you to the mirror. 

"Look what I'm doing to you," she slurs against your skin, still kissing between the words like she can't help herself.

"Mmm—Too big—“ you whimper.

"You're taking it," she growls. "You're fuckin' made for it—"

Her free hand slides down your body, rubbing messy, wet circles over your clit. You gasp, thighs twitching.

"Mmngh! Sev—!”

"Such a good fuckin' girl," she slurs. "So pretty—so full—Daddy's got you, yeah?"

You nod frantically, tears running down your face. "I'm yours—fuck—I'm yours-“

She grabs your chin and shoves two fingers into your mouth. "Suck."

You moan and obey, drool spilling out, running down your chin and soaking her whole hand. Sevika groans, fucking up into you harder, faster, letting your spit coat her fingers before pulling them out and shoving them between your legs, rubbing your clit with your own spit.

“Ohhh—fuck—Fuckfuckfuck—“

"Like that? Like when I force you to drool all over me?" she growls. "So messy—so fuckin' wet—You're dripping all over my fingers—“

You try to respond, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Sevika leans in and bites your shoulder, hard, as her hips snap up again.

"Beg," she pants. "Say it. Say ‘Please, Daddy.'"

"Please, Daddy," you sob. "Please please please—don't stop—I need it—"

Her pace gets brutal.

Every thrust hits deep, hitting the same spot over and over until your whole body's shaking, your gut visibly bulging with every slam.

"Feel that?" she hisses. "That's how deep I am. Nobody else'll ever get this far, baby—nobody."

Your legs buckle. She holds you up.

You clench around her, so close it hurts.

"Holy shit—I-I'm gonna cum—“

"No," she growls, and suddenly pulls out—

You squeal.

"Fuck—!"

"Face down. Ass up. Now."

“Why—“

“Do it.”

You scramble to obey, legs shaking, falling into position on the bed. Sevika climbs behind you, grabs your hair, and yanks.

"Good girl," she pants. "So fuckin' obedient for me."

She slides in again—deeper than before. You scream into the pillows.

Sevika watches your body in the mirror, sees you arching back into her, taking every inch like you were made for it.

"Say it again," she begs. "Say 'Daddy."

Tears run down your face. "Daddy—Daddy please—don't stop—“

She whimpers, "Fuck—I love it when you call me that, princess."

She leans over you, chest to your back, hand sneaking under to rub your clit again.

"You're gonna cum for me," she whispers. "Gonna milk me for everything l've got. Gonna take it like a good little cumslut. You want me to breed you, baby?"

You nod, sobbing. 

"F—Fuck," she gasps, voice cracking.

"Baby—I'm close—shit—gonna cum-"

You twist around to look at her, barely able to breathe. "Y-you're gonna cum?" you whisper, clenching around her on purpose. "You gonna fill me up, Sev?"

She groans, nearly folding over you, arms trembling. "Fuck—fuck—don't say that—"

"Why not?" you whisper, teasing, lips brushing her jaw. "Don't I feel so good around you? Y—Fuck—You like how I squeeze you, baby?"

"So fucking good," she chokes out, rolling her hips deeper, slower. "You're perfect, shit—l- fuck—I can’t—“

She bites your neck and cums inside you with a guttural moan, hips stuttering as she fills you to the brim. You break with her, crying out as your orgasm hits, walls fluttering around her cock as she throbs inside you.

Your reflection shows it all—your open mouth, your tears, her possessive grip, her whole body trembling against yours.

She stays inside. Doesn't move. Just pants into your shoulder, arms wrapped around you like a cage.

"Fuck," she whispers. "You're mine."

You whimper softly, your body limp in her hold—but Sevika doesn't pull out.

Instead, she presses a slow kiss to the back of your shoulder. Then another, lower. Her mouth trails down, lazy and warm, brushing over your spine. 

You twitch, breath catching when her lips dip lower, lower, until she's kissing the curve of your lower back.

She groans quietly, hands gripping your hips—then sliding down to squeeze your ass, possessive and worshipful.

"Fuck," she mutters against your skin, voice raspy, almost delirious. "Look at you... look at this perfect fuckin' body..."

You whine, cheek smushed against the pillow. "Sev..."

But she's not done. She climbs back up, her front still flush to your back, cock still inside you, thick and twitching. She presses soft, open-mouthed kisses behind your ear, down your neck, her breath hot and uneven.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she slurs, like she's drunk on you. "Your little sounds, your body—mine, all mine—I'm so fucking lucky..."

You moan softly, overwhelmed, gasping when her hips roll again—slowly, deeply, dragging her still-hard cock along your overstimulated walls.

"Fuck—Sev..." you whimper, thighs shaking, "s-still?"

"Mmhm," she hums into your ear, voice thick with need. "Still hard, baby. You feel too good. Gotta ride it out..."

She thrusts again, slow and deep and praising, her grip firm on your hips. You try to keep up, try to arch your back again for her, but your arms shake and your body sags.

You let out a broken little cry, muffled into the sheets. "I'm tired... it's too much f'me..."

Sevika's hands slide up your sides, holding you gently but firmly. Her lips graze your ear again.

"Mmno," she murmurs. "Don't do that, baby. Don't go soft on me now."

You whimper again, already crying. "C-can't..."

"Yes, you can," she whispers, voice tender but commanding. "Just a little more, princess. C'mon, arch that pretty back for me. Be good for Daddy..."

She kisses your temple, then nips your earlobe as her hips start rocking again—slow, deliberate, drawing out every second of the overstimulation like she's savoring your cries.

"You were made for this," she breathes.

"Made for me."

Your voice is broken, whimpery, barely a whisper: "You feel so good inside me..."

Sevika stills, chest heaving against your back. "Yeah?" she breathes, low and rough, almost like it hurts to speak.

You nod fast, breath catching. "I love it. I love your dick so much, Sev—I love the way it makes me feel so full—safe.. nobody has ever made me feel like this before.”

She groans.

“And nobody ever will.” She grits out. “Love splitting you open like this.. and actually feeling it—feeling you.”

You whisper, trembling, “You fit so perfect, Sev..”

”I know, angel.” She whispers so softly you barely heard it.

"Still leaking out of you..." she mumbles, voice raspy, thick with awe. "Fuck. Look at that. You're dripping, baby."

Her thumbs spread you just to see it-her cum sliding out of your swollen pussy in slow, messy rivulets. Her cock still buried deep, keeping it inside like a plug. She watches it for a second. Then thrusts again.

Slow. Deep. Possessive.

She plants more kisses down your neck, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y’know that?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You're barely coherent by the time she slows down. Just soft, choked whimpers escaping your lips, face flushed and wet with tears, body twitching under hers.

Sevika finally exhales shakily into your neck, body trembling. "Holy fuck..."

She pulls out slowly, and you gasp—your whole body shudders at the stretch and the heat that spills out of you, dripping messily down your thighs.

You blink blearily at the mirror, eyes wide as you glance down between your legs.

"Jesus….." you croak. "I didn't know it was that big."

Sevika lets out a breathless laugh against your back, still catching her breath. "Didn't feel that big when I was stuffing you full like a good girl?"

You shove her arm weakly with a whine, collapsing fully onto the mattress.

She sinks down beside you, both of you half-naked, sweaty, and shaking. Her hand finds your waist. She's quiet for a second, pressing gentle kisses into your shoulder.

You can feel her heartbeat pounding against your back.

"..you okay?" she mumbles, almost shyly.

You nod into the sheets. "Mhm. Just... full. Fucked out. Pretty sure my soul left my body."

She lets out a low chuckle, nose brushing your cheek. "Good."

You snort. "Good?"

"Yeah," she says quietly, possessively.

"I want you ruined. Want you walkin'around tomorrow knowing nobody's ever gonna touch you like this."

"Jesus," you whisper, laughing breathlessly. "You're crazy."

"For you?" she hums. "Every fucking time."

Your chest tightens at that. You roll slightly to face her, and she pulls you close without hesitation, burying her face in your neck.

"You're so pretty when you cry," she mumbles against your skin. "So fuckin' soft. My favorite girl."

You blush, heart melting. "You're gonna make me cry again..."

She just kisses your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then suddenly, she sits up and scoops you into her arms like you weigh nothing.

"Sev!" you squeal, clinging to her neck.

"What?"

"Nothing.. you're just really strong..." you mumble against her collarbone.

She smirks, carrying you toward the bathroom. "Yeah? You like that?"

"Mhm..." you whimper. "My strong girl..."

"Damn right," she grunts, nudging the door open with her foot. "Strong enough to keep you like this forever."

You shiver. "Forever?"

She kisses your forehead. "‘M not going anywhere."

this is so lazy and i hate it but u guys asked for p2 so ofc i had to give it to you ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

criticism and ideas are heavily appreciated (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

thank you for reading! ♡

taglist: @twinklestarslight @thehoneybeestings @2sosa @nymanas @mewl3tte @dollyfawn22 @djstinkyfartz @lez-zuha @prettyyyy-girl @ayooooohush @strawberrylipglossx @jenosfairygirl @sadie6sinks6slut @coffee2972 @violetsforroses98 @kmhbygss @honeyylovee @sevikaswifeomm @bublunniii @werecorgi92 @harumanisstuff @lilredbird101 @lesbonym @ilovejasmine22 @crystaksack @anthorius ♡

[wintrbears]

Universal Truths | JJK

Summary: You took the risk of falling in love in a world where your perfect match is decided for you by the universe itself. When a name you never could've predicted appears on your wrist, you do everything you can to stop the inevitable.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, (Brief) Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU, Boyfriend's Best Friend, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 19.3k+

Warnings: swearing, drinking, partying, yelling, crying, lying, heartbreak, physical pain, injury, burning sensations, cramping, chest aches, lose of appetite, vomiting, insomnia, mentions of UTI and mono, emotional cheating (kinda), a break-up, loss of friendship, use of pet names (baby, pumpkin, princess), soccer, use of sports lingo, fear of heights, tattoos. SMUT: one-night stands, kissing, hair pulling, fingering, hand job, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), missionary, dick riding, big dick!jk bc I'm nothing if not accurate, cum swallowing (m & f), spitting, gagging via hand, cream pie, scratching, aftercare, please lmk if I missed any!

Author's Note: I've returned from my mandatory military service (writer's block) after over two years. I'm very excited to be writing again and hope you all love this one as much as I do. It's my first time posting smut that I've written so I'm v nervous and would appreciate any feedback on that or the story as a whole. Please, please let me know what you think :)

Your thighs are growing sore from the metal of the bleachers digging into them. Taehyung warned you to bring your bleacher seat, but in your rush out the door tonight you forgot it. Shifting uncomfortably, you rise up just enough to readjust your clothes to create a barrier between you and the cold steel.

The girl next to you chuckles at your situation.

You don’t know her very well and honestly you barely remember her name. Jisoo? Jihyo? It isn’t in your best interest to try and memorize the many women who accompany you to these games.

As if to make matters worse, it’s a night game, and the brisk wind of nighttime is nipping at your thighs through your jeans. 

What’s-her-name is wearing a skirt and tights, even though you told Jungkook to tell her she should dress warmly. You’re too nice for your own good; trying to keep these women comfortable while they cheer for your team for the sole purpose of spending their night with the star player afterwards.

Jeon Jungkook is only a sophomore, while your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, is a junior. Nevertheless, Jungkook can only be described as a goddamn soccer prodigy, and as such he has garnered most of the attention since joining the team. 

It’s certainly no skin off your back. You don’t need hordes of women trying to get at your man. Jungkook can keep all that attention for himself. Which he does. Joyously.

There is no resentment or judgement towards Jungkook for the fact that you come to these games with a new woman every week. Some would even say he’s making smarter choices than you are by having a serious, long-term boyfriend whose name isn’t tattooed on your wrist. 

At some point during young adulthood a name appears on everyone’s wrist indicating who their soulmate is. Impossible to predict nor refute, they could be a stranger you’ll meet down the line, someone you’ve known since childhood, or anything in between. Many people, such as yourself, allow love into their hearts regardless of the impending reveal of one’s soulmate. 

Truthfully, if Taehyung isn’t your soulmate, you don’t know who the hell could be. A perfect match doesn’t even scratch the surface of him. He’s attentive, always catching on when your mood shifts. Considerate, asking for your input over the most menial decisions. And loving, holding you close and providing you with unyielding affection. Taehyung will do whatever it takes to bring you happiness and you strive to reciprocate that.

You were introduced to your now-boyfriend by none other than Jungkook. The pair are childhood best friends who’ve been playing soccer together since they could kick a ball. It was over freshman orientation weekend after you and Jungkook were assigned to the same icebreaker group. Upon mingling for the day, Jungkook served his best friend to you on a silver platter and the rest is history. As soon as you saw his boxy grin, being around him became a non-negotiable. 

There is a piece of you that refuses to admit your soulmate could be anyone else, but the rest of you knows how great the possibility is. A gnawing anxiety finds its way into your bones every once in a while. 

Your fingers dance across your wrist in thought, pressing down against your vein to feel your pulse. 

When you look up, it’s just in time to see your boyfriend’s best friend scoring a goal. Ji-something stands up to cheer as loud as she can. The soccer field is large, but not that large. She only needs half the volume to get her message across. 

You chuckle at Jungkook’s entire face going red when he hears her holler. He scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his position for the next set of plays. 

Eyes perusing for a familiar head of black curls, you find your boyfriend in his defensive position. A smile creeps in without you realizing as pride swells in your chest. You clap when he successfully prevents the other team from scoring, but don’t make yourself as known as your companion. 

A wishful sigh breaks you from your admiration. 

“I wish Jungkook would settle down like Taehyung has,” the girl pouts. 

“Well, I think he’s trying to spare both your feelings, don’t you think?” You’ve had this conversation one too many times with one too many girls. “Neither of you know if you’re soulmates and getting into a relationship could lead to heartache.” 

“Then why did you do it?”

That’s a great question, and one you wish you knew the answer to. Your nature is cautious and you've always been prudent when it comes to love. Prior to college, your plan was to remain single until your tattoo materialized. There were hookups occasionally during your high school years, but never once breaching into the realm of dating.

“I just fell in love, and the idea of not being with him hurt more than the possibility that he isn’t my soulmate.”

“Wow,” she stares in awe. “That’s so romantic.”

You only grant her a nod before reverting your attention back to the game. It’s nearly over now which means you can finally get your arms around Taehyung and hold him close for the rest of the night. 

The team is victorious as usual and the players gather around in the center to celebrate their victory with an indiscernible cheer. Leading your companion down the bleachers, you wait at the separation between the stands and the field as both boys come jogging over.

Taehyung’s smile is radiant as he beams. He pulls you in for a kiss immediately once he reaches you. You’re giggling against his lips as he pecks you repeatedly in quick succession.

“Proud of you, baby,” you whisper into his mouth. 

You steal his hand from behind your head to lace his fingers with yours. When you glance over, Jungkook is speaking with his woman-of-the-week. Although, you aren’t sure you can describe her eager rambling and his mindless nodding as a conversation.

Taehyung’s knowing chuckle meets your ear.

“They never learn,” he says.

“Oh no, she knows she’s disposable,” you correct. “She just wants him bad enough not to care.”

“JK,” Taehyung grabs the younger one’s attention. “We’re gonna grab dinner, you and Jiseon wanna join?”

Wow, you feel like such an asshole. If Taehyung can remember her name surely you should’ve. 

“Nah, we’re good.” 

Jungkook winks at his friend and you feign a gag sound. Sticking your finger near your mouth for dramatic effect. Jungkook only rolls his eyes before waving goodbye. The brat didn’t even thank you for entertaining his little fling tonight. Unbelievable. 

Besides his questionable choices in sexual partners, you genuinely enjoy Jungkook’s company. You aren’t necessarily close, but he’s around enough that you know his favorite food and band. You know that he’s sweet and caring towards the people in his life. And he certainly doesn’t mistreat the women he spends his time with. There is a thick boundary laid before anyone ever steps foot inside his apartment. His girls know exactly what they’re signing up for. 

After dinner, Taehyung walks you back to your place while reminiscing over the most exciting moments of the game. You listen intently while swinging your connected hands back and forth between you. 

He spends the night like he often does after a Friday night game and you wake up together just in time to catch brunch at the closest dining hall. 

While you dress in the comfiest outfit you own, your boyfriend’s voice is telling someone where you’ll be. He ends the call with a quick goodbye before leaning in the doorway of your bathroom.

“JK’s meeting us for brunch, if that’s ok?”

“Is his girly friend joining?”

“Nope,” he says with a pop of his lips. Your head hangs as you chuckle. Figures. 

When you turn around, Taehyung is admiring you like you aren’t in an old hoodie and sweatpants. His hands reach for your waist, pulling you closer and enveloping you into his chest. You sigh, resting your head where his heartbeat can be heard.

“I love you, pumpkin,” he says with a kiss to your hair. You rest your chin on his sternum to get a better view.

“I love you more, handsome,” you reply. 

He kisses you briefly before dragging you from the warmth of your apartment to eat some poorly-made pancakes and instant eggs. 

The dining hall’s familiar scent infiltrates your nostrils. Frankly, you’re starving and need to consume something before the hangry version of you comes out to meet the world. 

You and Taehyung are already eating by the time Jungkook comes in through the large glass doors. The boy looks a mess; hair pointing in a million directions, hoodie barely on and revealing part of his stomach above his joggers, and a purple bruise sits to the left of his throat. 

“Wow,” you say as you chew through a pineapple slice.

“Yeah,” he says with a boyish smile, his body leaning against a chair back. “It was fucking awesome.”

“Ew,” you groan. 

Taehyung cheers for his friend, high fiving him as the younger one takes a seat. 

“Hyung, you wouldn’t believe the shit she did with her —”

“No, no, stop that,” you scold him before he ruins your breakfast. “We’re eating.”

“So? There’s nothing gross or bad about sex, Y/N,” he argues.

“You’re right, but I don’t need to hear about your sex, okay?” 

“I, for one, would like to hear about it,” Taehyung responds. You gawk at him from across the table. “What? Maybe we could learn a thing or two.”

“Tae!” 

Jungkook’s hearty laugh only furthers your annoyance. Once he leaves to get food, you point your fork at your boyfriend in a silent warning before continuing to eat. 

There’s a party tonight at another teammate’s off-campus house. Taehyung begs you with his big, adorable puppy eyes and you instantly fold. They are your only kryptonite and you agree without another thought when he asks to go. 

You travel hand-in-hand back to your apartment after brunch so you can finish some homework before the party. With a kiss and a promise to pick you up at 8, he heads home.

The biology homework for your mandatory gen-ed is staring you in the face. It’s the last of your assignments to complete before you’re free to get ready. A groan passes through your lips while you tip your head back in frustration. Science is so not your thing and this is the last class you’ll ever have to take on the subject. There is a high probability of the course tanking your GPA this semester. 

Chewing on your lip, your phone teases you with its presence. There is someone you know who's a biology major, but you’ve never asked him for help before and you aren’t sure you can handle the teasing that will follow if you do. 

You curse as your fingers find his contact before you can change your mind. You’ve never once called or texted him separately, only ever in a group chat with your boyfriend and a few others. 

He answers after a couple rings, but his voice is laced with confusion when he does. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you stretch the syllable as far as it can go.

“What’s up?”

“Jungkookie…” you play coy. “Could you possibly help me with something?” 

“What is it?” 

You hear shuffling on the other end, as if he’s already getting up to fulfill your request. 

“My bio homework,” you answer. “Can I just send you a picture of it or something and you can tell me the answers?”

He chuckles, low and soft.

“Sure.” 

You cheer to yourself, kicking your feet and flipping off the paper in front of you that will finally be conquered. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you shout.

“Mmhm, just send it over.”

You do so as soon as you hang up. It’s barely been fifteen minutes when the photo returns, this time with answers added next to each question. 

You throw your head back and resist the urge to literally kiss the photo on your phone screen. This assignment has haunted you for days now. Vowing to repay Jungkook in kind, you complete the worksheet to match his answers before heading to the shower to get ready. 

When Taehyung arrives at 8, you still have to finish putting on your jewelry. He smirks knowingly at your consistent lack of punctuality. His body takes purchase on your bed while you adjust the final details of your outfit. 

It’s nothing special, just a sweater and a skirt, but you can tell it does something for your boyfriend by the way he eyes you from his position. His legs are spread, feet firmly planted as he licks his lips. Ever the temptress, you situate yourself on his lap when you’re finished.

His hands instinctively meet your thighs, rubbing them as he eyes your lips.

“Careful, baby, we have somewhere to be,” he says.

“Do we, though?” 

You tilt your head without breaking eye contact. He answers with a nod, but his lips are already ascending on the junction between your neck and shoulder. You moan appreciatively, resisting the urge to move against his crotch. 

The kiss is far too short and light for your liking, and once he’s satisfied with his teasing he stands to leave. You groan and give him your best pout. Adorably pleading with him for more affection, but he merely tsks at your antics before tugging you out of the apartment. 

The party is heard before it’s seen. The bass of the music is vibrating the floorboards as you walk inside. Taehyung leads you in by your hand and you greet his teammates and their partners or guests for the night on your way to the kitchen. 

He pours you both a drink into dinky plastic cups and hands one of them over. The first sip burns, but the next couple are smoother as you acquire the taste. 

You traverse the party together as normal, mingling for a while and dancing together for a spell. After a couple hours, Taehyung joins his team in a beer pong tournament while you head to the porch for some fresh air.

You rest your elbows on the hardwood railing and let your heavy head fall forward. Truthfully, you aren’t that drunk, but stuffy heat from the house mixed with alcohol isn’t doing you any favors. 

The door behind you opens, and none other than the friendly-neighborhood fuckboy comes tumbling outside. When he notices your presence, he sighs in relief and joins you at the railing.

“Who are you running from?” 

“Jiseon,” he answers. You giggle. That would explain his antsy behavior. 

“Let me guess, she didn’t take the ‘one night only’ hint,” you say. He shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Aw, poor you, it must be so hard to have an endless amount of women at your disposal.”

He turns towards you, leaning sideways against the railing so he can face you.

“This isn’t my preferred method of human connection, you know,” he says. “I would love nothing more than to have what you and Taehyung do. All I want is for my soulmate’s name to show up so I can finally seek the comfort of their arms instead of whatever random girl is chasing after me that day.” 

“Then why don’t you try with someone to have what Tae and I do?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken,” he answers truthfully. “Not that you and Tae will, I just —”

“No, it’s okay.” You turn to face him as well. “I know it’s a possibility.” 

“It may seem backwards to you,” he adds. “And it’s not like I don’t enjoy casual sex. I do.” Your eyes roll back on reflex. “But I don’t sleep around because I’m insatiable or abundantly horny. I’m just lonely.”

You frown, never realizing the extent of Jungkook’s feelings on the matter. One of your hands reaches out to grasp his tattooed wrist.

“You’ll find her someday soon, Jungkook,” you offer with a smile. “And she’s gonna love you.”

If only you knew just how soon he would find her or that he already knew her.

You finish the night off with a brief makeout in the downstairs bathroom. It’s not the most romantic or pretty location, but you’re too intoxicated at that point to care when Taehyung’s lips are on yours. 

He walks you home and ensures you enter your apartment safely before retreating back to his own. You fall into your bed with a plop, the soft blankets surrounding you with warmth and comfort. Nuzzling into your sheets, you’re in dreamland before you can notice the black ink slowly darkening on your skin.

Upon waking up, your headache is the first to greet you. Feet finding the floor through half-closed eyelids, a groan erupts from your chest as you stretch the sleep out of your body. Your eyes are still barely open as you trudge to the bathroom to see the aftermath of last night.

Unfortunately for you, the version of you from last night forgot to take off her makeup. You gently wash away the dried mascara and lip gloss before applying some product. The entire routine is complete before you ever notice the new addition on your skin. It’s only once you brush your teeth and your wrist is in your direct eyesight that you see it. 

You yelp, your toothbrush falling from your mouth and clattering in the sink. Your first instinct is to try and wash it off, as if it’s some cruel prank someone pulled. As hard as you possibly can, you run your wrist under the water and scrub at the name staring back at you. You even add soap, as if that will somehow reverse what you already know to be true. 

“No, no, no,” you chant desperately. “Please,” you beg to whatever or whoever is in charge. 

After scrubbing until your skin is bright red and burning, you finally turn the water off. Your hand shakes almost violently from the fear and adrenaline coursing through you. Pressing your finger down over your vein, you close your eyes in an attempt to bestill your racing heartbeat. 

It’s as useless as scrubbing, and when you open your eyes and look into the mirror, a cry breaks from your body as you collapse into your bathroom carpet. You hug your knees to your chest, keeping your eyes tightly shut as tears escape them. This has to be some sick nightmare. It simply can’t be reality. 

The weight of the truth is pushing you down below the surface of your tolerance. It feels like you’re drowning, swallowing gallons of water and burning your esophagus in the process. Your body couldn’t produce enough tears if it tried. The soul-crushing emotions are too insurmountable. 

The sound of your phone ringing brings your heartbeat to a grinding halt. Your eyes find the source atop the bathroom counter. All you can do is stare helplessly at destiny calling. You already know who the caller is because soulmate tattoos always appear in pairs. 

Attempting to settle your breathing, you crawl to where you can reach your phone from the floor. The vibration of it against the marble is identical to your shaking hand as you answer it. You inhale three shaky breaths before moving it to your ear. 

“Y/N.”

His voice catapults your heart completely out of your chest. You’re unsure where it’s gone, but you know it isn’t inside you anymore. The urge to cry again is so forceful you have to bite down on your lip to restrain yourself. Even then, when you respond, your voice breaks over the words.

“What do we do?”

As you speak, your eyes fall to your wrist again. There, in small, black, cursive lettering is the last name you ever expected to find.

Jungkook

“I’m going to come over, alright?” 

You’re nodding before remembering he can’t see you. 

“Okay,” you whimper. And then, a voice you don’t believe is your own says, “Hurry, please.”

It’s damn near impossible to lift yourself from the floor. You feel concrete in your bones and lead in your blood. Tears are staining your cheeks, but you barely register it over the sound of your thoughts running wild. 

The knock on your door arrives quicker than you expect, but then again you did tell him to hurry. An unfamiliar feeling spreads through your chest at the thought of him rushing to you. Ignoring the way it reminds you of butterflies, you finally stand to answer the door. 

You think your soul must have been replaced with someone else’s. Taehyung is the only person your heart has ever somersaulted for. Your sweet, adoring, funny, and wonderful boyfriend. His smile comes to mind and it constricts your airway. 

Does the soul bond really reconstruct your emotional landscape that quickly? The answer comes as soon as you open the door. 

You’ve seen Jungkook at least 500 times over the course of a year and a half and locked eyes with him even more often than that. You did so just last night on the porch. Seeing him on the opposite side of your door should be simple. Yet, nothing prepares you for the swarm of emotions you feel when you finally see him. 

It’s as if the world has tilted on its axis, but not as if it’s suddenly spinning the wrong way. No, it’s as though this whole time it has been wrong, and only now is it right. You hold your breath without meaning to. Your very soul yearns to leap from your body just to get an inch closer to him. 

Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, pupils dialated to the point where you can’t tell where his irises begin. His face is flushed, but you’re unsure if it’s from seeing you or the method of speed he used to reach you. His inhales and exhales are shallow, forced out only by muscle memory. You notice his hands are shaking where they rest limply by his side. They twitch towards you before he’s closing them into fists. 

“Holy shit.” 

It falls from your lips before you can stop it. The feeling is a riptide pulling you under without anything to stop it. 

Jungkook inhales deeply at the sound of your voice, as if it was the one thing he needed to hear. He steps into your apartment and closes the door behind him. You take a parallel step back to hold the distance between you. Your own body scolds you for doing so. 

It isn’t for long, because when Jungkook reaches out slowly to take your wrist in his hand, you melt. Your body succumbs to the feeling of his touch the way it feels to slip into a warm bath. Your mouth is releasing a sigh of relief before you can tell it not to. 

He observes your skin curiously, taking in the view of his name written there. His thumb delicately traces the curves. His eyes are misty and filled with something unreadable.

“Jungkook,” your voice comes out so small. His eyes find yours and you come to realize how much his heart is breaking, too. “We should talk.”

Hand dropping yours, he nods and follows you to your couch. Although you were the one who suggested a conversation, words die in your throat. The silence stretches between you like molasses.

“I…” you try to find the right words only to realize there are none. “I love him, Jungkook. I can’t — god — I can’t hurt him like this. I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know,” your companion nods solemnly. “I can’t either.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’ve known him since I was four. He’s the only reason I even started playing soccer.” A deep breath. “He’s my best friend.”

Your head finds your hands as you fold yourself in half, letting your elbows meet your knees. The pain in your chest reverberates through your entire system. You didn’t even know heartbreak could carry a physical ache. 

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” 

You’re crying into your hands. You can’t catch your breath for the life of you. The sobbing is painful in your throat. A firm hand finds your spine, gently moving up and down in the only way it knows how to console you. The touch leaves a warmth in its wake that you’ve never experienced before.

“We can’t tell him,” you whisper into your hands. Looking up, you find Jungkook’s eyes again. “We just have to pretend like this never happened.”

“Y/N, you know we can’t do that,” he replies. “Bad things happen to people who ignore their soul bond.”

“I don’t care. The universe is fucking sick and twisted and I’m not going to give it what it wants,” you say. Then, after inhaling and allowing your thoughts to rationalize, you continue. “We just continue on like nothing is wrong, but we spend more time together. Find excuses to hang out as the three of us. Maybe that will be enough to keep the bond from retaliating against us.” 

Jungkook looks skeptical, he tilts his head and tongues his cheek in thought. 

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” you respond. Then, despite your best efforts to stop your mouth from opening, “you're not going to keep sleeping with other girls, are you?” 

He shakes his head without missing a beat.

“No, I could never do that,” he answers. You despise the feeling of relief that washes over you. 

“I’ll have to think of something to tell Tae. Say I have a UTI or something,” you muse. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t have to do that. It’s different,” Jungkook argues.

“I couldn’t,” you reply. “The thought of… of him making love to me when I have someone else’s name, your name, on my wrist makes me sick to my stomach.”

Taehyung’s ears must be burning because your phone rings and his face lights up the screen. Shattering your heart in its entirety when you see the goofy smile in his contact photo. Glancing towards Jungkook, you get up to take the call elsewhere.

He tells you he wants to study together after lunch. The thought of seeing him right now nearly sends bile up your throat. It will be too suspicious for you to say no. It’s the weekend and you never shy away from spending time together. You follow through with what you discussed and ask if you can invite Jungkook. You lie through your teeth and say it’s because you need help with biology. He thinks nothing of it as he replies with a sweet "of course." 

Therein begins your corrosive web of lies. Time moves normally, even though you feel anything but. Everyday a new lie tumbles from your lips like smoke. You feel yourself choking on it as it suffocates you from the inside. You vastly underestimated how hard your body would fight you for rejecting your soul bond with Jungkook. 

At first, it was tingling when you kissed Taehyung or an ache when you held his hand. But slowly, it got worse. After a few weeks, you couldn’t kiss him without a burning sensation on your lips. By the end of a month, holding his hand sent a stinging cramp down your arm. You explained you couldn’t have sex due to a UTI. Later, you claimed you couldn’t kiss because you caught mono. 

After six weeks, the aches and pains don’t just happen when you’re with Taehyung. They start happening simply because you’re away from Jungkook. 

You miss one of your morning classes because the cramping in your abdomen is so bad you can’t leave your bed. Dinners go uneaten because you can’t help but throw up the contents of your stomach. One night, while watching one of their soccer games, you leave because the most painful ache you can imagine is surging through your chest. You spend the evening alone, clutching your heart as you cry to whoever may be listening that this isn’t fair.

Jungkook isn’t doing much better, he tells you. His grades have begun to drop and he’s missing practices left and right. One day you see him limping across the courtyard. He tells you he pulled a muscle at the gym doing something he’s done a million times. That he can feel himself getting weaker everyday. 

The pair of you try your hardest to stall the effects by spending as much time together as you can. You don’t think you’ve spent alone time with Taehyung in weeks now. You sit next to each other at meals with your friends. He comes over to study whenever he’s free. If he’s going to a party, so are you. 

It’s not enough, because the physical closeness doesn’t make up for the emotional distance. You know it’s only a matter of time before nature forces you to confront what you’ve been avoiding. 

You’re sitting on Taehyung’s lap in the basement of a teammate’s house. The three Motrin you took beforehand aren’t helping the cramping in your legs nor the burning that follows Taehyung’s touch along your thigh. Jungkook is next to him, an uncomfortable scowl written into his features. It’s almost permanent these days. 

During a lull in the conversation, Taehyung leans forward to brush his lips on your neck. You yelp and stand abruptly from the sharp pain his kiss causes. Taehyung looks at you in concern, grabbing your hands to make you face him.

“Baby?” His eyes are so soft and loving when he peers up at you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you lie as you massage your neck. “I just need to hit the restroom real quick.”

Jungkook’s eyes are swimming with distress as they follow you out of the room. 

Forcing open the sticky bathroom door, you shut it behind you and brace yourself on the sink. When you look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the woman looking back. She’s skinnier than you, face pale, eyes hollow and devoid of light. You breathe deeply and are about to return when the door opens.

Jungkook moves as quickly and quietly as possible, peering out for any onlookers before shutting and locking the door behind him. Your body relaxes, your breath leveling, your nerves taking a rest from their constant anxiety. 

“Are you alright?” 

His hand is halfway in the air when he speaks, as though to reach out, but he changes his mind and lets it fall to his side. 

You respect his hesitation, but you can’t do this a second longer. Grabbing his hand back, you place it on your cheek, covering his fingers with your own to hold it steady. His eyes widen momentarily before relaxing and gazing around your face.

“I am now,” you whisper. It’s true. His touch feels like aloe in the summer. The warmth of him is so comforting you could fall asleep standing up. 

He licks his lips and you can see the gears turning inside as he analyzes your expression. You blink slowly, cat-like, and realize you don’t need words to communicate because he does precisely what you want him to. 

His forehead presses to yours and your lungs sing as they finally work unimpeached. Tension releases from Jungkook’s body as his shoulders slump forward. You know how terribly you both need this, and yet your betrayal to Taehyung feels venomous. A moment of serenity passes over you in the silence of the room. It’s a welcome reprieve from the chaos your lives have become. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you admit. “Everyday just gets harder. My heart feels like it’s going to rip out of my chest every second I spend apart from you.”

His head twists against you, his eyes opening to catch your gaze. There’s an intensity in his stare you’ve never seen before. You’re on a precipice together, and Jungkook is like a dam just waiting to hear you say the word so he can break. 

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says. 

“It’s not about what I want,” your tone is harsher than you hoped. “It’s about what I need.”

His other hand curls into your shirt near your waist, tugging you closer until your bodies are touching. Your free hand finds its way to his chest, fingertips passing over unfamiliar territory.

Jungkook sighs deep in his chest.

“I could stay like this forever,” he tells you. “Feel like I’ve been drowning and I can finally breathe again.”

Your eyes snap shut as you will yourself not to cry. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be and there is nothing you want more than for everything to go back to the way it was. But your harsh reality is staring you down and sinking its teeth into your jugular. The universe is sucking you dry and soon there will be nothing left. 

“We'll tell him tomorrow,” you announce. The finality of it constricts your airway. Jungkook is pulling you into him before the first sob even exits your body. He wraps his arms around you as a hand finds home in your hair.

Your tears soak Jungkook’s shirt where it rests against his shoulder. Every single drowning emotion comes out in slamming waves, pushing you up against a rocky shoreline. It shuts down your nervous system and disrupts your mental state. 

When the sobbing subsides, Jungkook gently lifts your head and his free hand swipes away at the tear stains still present on your cheekbones.

“It’s going to be alright,” he states. “And don’t ask me how I know,” he smiles just a hair. “I don’t. I’m just hopeful.” 

You laugh for what feels like the first time in forever. It’s short and quiet, but it’s enough for Jungkook’s smile to grow.

He lets you exit the cramped space first, waiting a few minutes before exiting and finding a spot elsewhere so he has an alibi. You return to Taehyung feeling a mixture of dread and relief. Tomorrow could very well be the worst day of your life, but at least this nightmare will be over. 

When you kiss Taehyung goodbye that night, you do it through physical ache, but knowing that it will probably be your last hurts worse than anything else. 

You cry yourself to sleep because it’s the only way you know how to cause enough fatigue to fall into slumber. 

The following morning you text Jungkook and Taehyung asking them both to come over. At this point it’s routine for the three of you to hang out so it goes unquestioned. When they arrive, you make yourself busy in the kitchen so you don’t have to touch your boyfriend unnecessarily. You also need the extra time to mentally prepare yourself. 

Placing two hot bowls of ramen in front of them, you take a seat on the couch as far from Taehyung as possible. Jungkook sits in a chair just across from you. 

“Pumpkin, you didn’t have to do this,” Taehyung says as he slurps his first bite of noodles into his mouth. 

Jungkook is staring into the familiar food with a faraway look. You gesture for him to eat, but his response is a shake of his head.

“So, why’d you want us here on this lovely Saturday?” 

Your gut twists at the notion of today being lovely. Taehyung is clueless that you’re about to shatter his heart in your hand. Yours has been slowly deteriorating all this time. 

“I actually have to tell you something, Tae,” you start. His eyes glance at you briefly, nodding for you to continue while he eats. “You should probably put that down.” 

Taehyung stops mid-bite, slowly setting the bowl back on the coffee table without breaking eye contact with you. 

“What’s going on?” He questions as his eyes flit to his friend sitting silently across from him. Jungkook doesn’t dare look up as his eyes find something on the floor to distract himself. 

“I got my soulmate tattoo,” you admit to him. The raw truth both burns and soothes your throat simultaneously as it breaches the air. Taehyung’s pupils are shaking when he looks at you and you can tell he doesn’t believe you yet. “It was almost two months ago now.”

“And you… you didn’t think you should tell me about that?” 

His voice pitches up, but he doesn’t sound angry, just confused. 

“I didn’t know how,” you reply. “And —”

“Wait,” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. “What is Jungkook doing here? Why would you want us both here, Y/N?”

Your mouth snaps shut in an instant as your eyes begin to water. There’s no mental strength left within you to even say it out loud. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. 

“No.” Taehyung stands. “No, no, there is no fucking way.” He holds his hand out towards you. “Give me your hand.” Your limb is shaking as it stretches towards him. Despite his tone, he’s gentle when he grabs your wrist to inspect it. You can feel the unbridled anger pulsing through his fingertips. When he spots the familiar name etched into your skin, he gasps painfully. It’s a sound so unlike him it makes you flinch. “No,” he repeats. His voice breaks over the syllable in the most soul-crushing way. He blinks tears from his eyes as he just stares at your skin. 

“Taehyung,” you grab his attention. Your tears mirror his own now. “I love you. This doesn’t change that.”

He lets your wrist fall limply against the couch before crashing down himself. His expression is so utterly broken you aren’t sure if he can even hear you. 

“It changes everything,” he replies. “Love doesn’t matter in the face of fate.” He laughs, but there is no warmth in it. “How does this always fucking happen?” You want to ask what he means, but his eyes are already on Jungkook. His expression hardens into pure ice. “You always get everything you want, huh, Jungkookie?”

“Don’t do that,” Jungkook says coldly. “Don’t act like I fucking asked for this.”

“But that’s just the thing, you didn’t have to! The universe just spits out good luck at you like you won the lottery,” Taehyung explains. “Ever since we were kids you were always on top. Better grades, better skills, better looks, and now,” he laughs again, but this time with venom dripping from his voice. “It gives you the one thing that matters most to me.” 

“Hyung, we tried —”

“Nah, you don’t get to call me that, kid,” Taehyung sneers. Jungkook’s face drops in terror, so unbelievably shocked at his best friend’s words. “You took my fucking girl from me. I will never forgive you for that, whether it was your choice or not.”

“Tae, it isn’t his fault,” you interject.

“And you,” Taehyung snaps. He stands to face you directly. “You little fucking liar! A UTI? Mono? Were you fucking him this whole time behind my back?”

“Jesus — fuck, no!” You match his stance as you stand before him. “I would never do that to you!”

“No, you’d just lie to my face instead,” he retorts. 

“Yes, Tae, because I wanted to be with you. I did everything in my power to try and stop whatever destiny had in store for me,” you say. “You have no idea what I went through just to stay next to you for even a second longer. What we went through. For you!” 

“Yeah, right.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I was missing class. I was taking double the daily allowance of painkillers,” you say calmly. “Touching you would send shockwaves down my arm. Kissing you burned. There were nights where I couldn’t breathe because the pain was so bad.” You inhale through your nose. “And I did it anyway. I did it because the thought of losing you was astronomically worse than any pain I was in.” Then, you point to Jungkook, who still sits defeated in the chair. “His muscles were literally atrophying. Could barely lift half the weight he used to be able to. His GPA dropped a whole point because he couldn’t focus enough in class. He would wake up drenched in sweat and so tired it was like he hadn’t slept at all.” You take a final deep breath. “You mean the world to me, to both of us. So don’t you dare claim we’re at fault for this. We’re hurting, too.”

Taehyung is staring at the ground as he mulls over your words. He sniffles and meets your eyes. 

“So that’s it, then… we just break up?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you answer truthfully. “I think the soul bond will kill me if I keep denying it any longer.” 

Taehyung throws his head back with a groan.

“So I’m just supposed to watch you two date right in front of me? See you hold hands across the courtyard like it’s nothing?” The question makes you pause. Never once did you even think about what happens after. Jungkook answers on your behalf. 

“No, Taehyung,” he starts. “We wouldn’t do that to you. We’re not gonna date… right away. And when we do we’ll keep it far from where you can see it.”

There’s a sense of finality in the room after Jungkook’s answer. Taehyung’s eyes move around the room, but his expression tells you nothing. His eyes land on you before grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says as he leaves. He doesn’t spare Jungkook a single glance before the door closes behind him. 

Before you can think of doing anything else, you crouch down in front of Jungkook, using your hand to gently bring his head up. Your fingers travel across his cheek, wiping the stray tear that’s fallen. 

“He couldn’t even look at me,” Jungkook murmurs. 

“He needs time,” you tell him as you caress his cheekbone with your thumb. 

His fingers gently curl around your wrist, removing it from his face. You watch as his eyes bore into the ink on your skin. You hate how pretty they look when he’s sad. Slowly, he brings your arm closer and you’re in awe when he presses the softest of kisses to his own name on your wrist. The action makes your breath falter and your heart beat out of time. His lips leave your skin after lingering there and he bows his head so his forehead takes their place. 

Your fingers are in the perfect position to comb through his hair, so you do. A hum of satisfaction comes from your soulmate. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. 

“What for?”

“Existing,” he laughs, but it’s hollow. “I keep wondering if it would be easier for everyone if I didn’t.” Your blood runs cold. “You wouldn’t have a soulmate anymore and then you and Tae would be free to be together.”

“Jungkook,” you say sternly, making him face you. “Don’t you ever say something like that again.” You grab his face for good measure. “You’re mine. The one and only soulmate I’m ever going to have. The world, my world, is a better place with you in it and I don’t ever want to be someplace you don’t exist. Okay?” 

He doesn’t reply, just nods. You push his hair out his eyes and he closes them. Letting his head rest in the cradle of your hands so he doesn’t have to hold it up himself. He looks peaceful like this and you let him savor the moment as long as possible. You’re nursing a heartbreak, but his best friend just walked out his life without a goodbye. 

You already know how complicated and difficult moving forward is going to be. While grieving the only long-term relationship you’ve ever known, you’ll be crafting an entirely new one. Your heart has to recover from the ache while reconstructing into something new. It’s going to take time, but you’re unshackled now. The universe wants this for you, and so it shall have it. 

The following weeks are composed of awkward silences and tentative touches, but you both take the necessary steps to get to know each other more. Jungkook begins to visit whenever he has free time to study or have dinner. You watch his games from the university sports channel for Taehyung’s sake, but Jungkook always comes over afterwards to celebrate. He helps with your biology homework and you rant to him about whatever classic novel you’re analyzing in your classes. 

You’re fairly touchy with each other because your very soul yearns for him, but it’s yet to break past the platonic wall between you. Jungkook does often find himself leaning down to kiss your forehead, but you welcome it warmly. You rest your head on his chest when you watch whatever anime he wants to show you and he plays with your hair while you force your favorite films on him. Your relationship is in its adolescence and you’re both cautious about messing it up. 

Jungkook wants more before you do. You can tell even if he thinks you can’t. It’s the way his eyes look when he sees you, even if your hair is a mess and your clothes are stained. The way his fingers twitch just enough when you’re cuddling to show he’s holding back. A piece of you wants to give in and grant his wish, but you’re unsure if your heart is ready to be given away again.

Spring enters with rainstorms and budding flowers. You’re basking under the sun’s rays while finishing your weekly readings. Your book is poised between two fingers while your back lays on the blanket-covered grass. The pages go one by one while the sounds of people moving through the courtyard fill your ears. 

The familiar lisp that accompanies Jungkook’s voice is the only reason you pick him out amongst the rest. Turning your head to locate the source, you spot him not too far away. You twist and sit up onto your elbows. 

Jungkook is standing at the corner of the courtyard, just outside the science building you know he has classes in. An unfamiliar girl is standing beside him. Perhaps too close. You can’t hear much of their conversation, only lone words as they float through the air. 

That’s when you feel jealousy pooling in your lower stomach like acid for the first time. Surely, you have nothing to worry about. He’s tied to you by an unknown force that neither of you can control. Still, a sour feeling creeps through you when you watch her hand reach out to touch his arm. 

He nonchalantly moves his arm out of her reach, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your lips. She seems persistent, though, and you wonder if you should intervene. When her fingers flit to his chest and dance across his shirt, you decide you definitely need to. 

Jungkook is handling the situation with grace before you can even rise from your position on the blanket. His hand removes hers from his body and he tilts his head with a pointed look. When you see his expression, the reaction from your body is completely involuntary. A sensual heat pools where the jealousy once resided. 

The girl is turning away from him with a scoff, her feet slamming the ground like a child with a tantrum. You cover your mouth to stop the laugh from escaping. Jungkook spots you then and he smiles, enough so that it crinkles the corners of his eyes. You wave at him before sending him a thumbs up, using your head to gesture in the direction the girl went. His eyes widen when he realizes you saw the interaction, but as he takes in your response, his lips form a smirk. He winks before turning in the opposite direction, off to whatever class he has next. 

You’re unsure what it is about the entire scene, but something in you stirs. For the first time since finding out Jungkook is your soulmate you realize you want more, too.

Jungkook has a game tonight and you mutually agree that it’s been long enough for you to watch in person. Close to three months have passed since you and Taehyung broke up. Heartbreak has no timeline, but you figure hiding yourself amongst the crowd will ensure you don’t make him too uncomfortable. 

The padding of the bleacher seat beneath you is comfortable, even if your bare thighs are sticking to it in the warm weather. The company you keep is much different than before. In fact, it’s the first time you aren’t accompanied by a stranger. Instead there are friends, parents, and siblings of the team all around you. 

You gnaw anxiously at your bottom lip while you wait for the players to enter the field. When they do, Taehyung is one of the first to exit the locker room. He looks good, as he always does, and he’s smiling at something a teammate said. The sight spreads a melancholy warmth through you. Happiness is the only thing you want for him. 

When Jungkook emerges, he’s tousling the front of his hair with his hand to keep it out of his eyes. His tattooed bicep is staring you in the face like you owe it something. You sigh, crossing one leg over the other as if that will help anything. 

Your soulmate moves effortlessly across the field, leading to him scoring more than one goal against the rival team. Taehyung does well too, blocking players and passing the ball with expertise. You don’t miss the obvious tension between him and Jungkook. Even from the stands their aversion for each other is palpable. 

Taehyung passes to someone else when Jungkook is wide open. Then he chooses to block a player who doesn’t stand a chance, leaving a different guy wide open to steal the ball from Jungkook. Their teammates are noticing it, too. You’re sure they have for the last three months. 

In the second half Taehyung avoids assisting Jungkook and they lose a goal to the other team. Worry seeps into your bones. One thing you’ve always known about Jungkook is that he’s competitive. If he loses tonight, it will hurt more than usual. 

You can hear the exacerbated sigh from Jungkook way across the field. His head tilts to the sky as he groans, running both hands through his hair. For whatever reason, this pisses you off more than it probably should. Taehyung can be angry with you and Jungkook, but to willingly allow the team to lose is petty. 

Two can play at petty, though. 

Standing up from your seat, you cup your hands around your mouth to amplify the sound.

“You got this, baby! Kick their asses, Jungkookie,” you shout. Everyone around you cheers in response, but the sound falls on deaf ears. The world goes into tunnel vision when Jungkook’s eyes find yours in the crowd. You wave excitedly at him and he smiles for the first time tonight.

"Baby?" He mouths at you as he walks backwards to get into position. You nod dramatically enough for him to see from afar before taking your seat again. 

When your eyes land on Taehyung, he’s wearing an expression that seems to be an equal mix of betrayal, hurt, and rage. You don’t ever want to hurt Taehyung. A piece of you will always hold love for him. But if he couldn’t be a big boy, you weren’t going to be either. 

They win the game by a landslide despite your ex’s best efforts. Although you already loudly made yourself known, you decide it’s too cruel to rub anything else in his face tonight. Instead of meeting Jungkook down below, you send a text that you’ll meet him back at your place. 

There’s a knock on your door at the perfect time, since the post-game meal you always make just finished cooking. The tradition didn’t start for any particular reason and Jungkook never asked you to have warm food waiting for him. It started because one time his stomach was growling so loud you could hear it over the TV. Ever since then you cook him his favorites so he can eat after burning all his calories on the field. 

You open the door and he slumps inside, dropping his bag unceremoniously by his shoes. He closes your apartment door lazily behind him. 

“Sheesh,” he pants. “That was fucking awful.”

Your hands push back some of the sweaty locks from his forehead, trailing down and tracing his jaw once his hair is out of his eyes. He hums appreciatively, leaning his face against your hand. 

“You did amazing, though,” you reply.

“Well, I had some help… baby,” he smirks proudly. Your eyes are rolling as he encompasses you in his arms. You giggle into his neck as he holds you by the waist. He smells like freshly cut grass and sweat, but it’s familiar now and you miss the scent when he isn’t around. Fresh out of the shower he smells like cedar and clean laundry. You’ve stolen a hoodie or two because you love the scent so much. “Thank you for that, by the way. I really needed it tonight.”

“Anytime,” you tell him. 

He loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. His eyes are searching yours for something you’re unsure of, but you wonder if he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling. There’s been an obvious shift in your affection towards him lately, but he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries. 

“Where did that even come from?” 

“Tae was pissing me off. He doesn’t get to do shit like that and get away with it,” you explain. Jungkook acknowledges it with a hum.

“Thank you for defending me.” He leans forward to brush his lips against your forehead. When he pulls back, there’s a pout on your lips. “What’s that face for?”

Some childish part of you wants him to figure it out on his own, even though you know he’s too chivalrous to kiss you without you explicitly saying you’re alright with it. 

“Do it for real, Jungkook,” you grumble. 

“Do what for…” his voice trails off as his eyebrows lift. “Wait, do you want me to kiss you?” You cross your arms across your chest, trying to paint the picture that he’s already taking too long. “You’re pouting because you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes, Jungkook! You’re my soulmate can’t you read my mind or some shit,” you respond to his teasing. Jungkook is throwing his head back in laughter rather than doing his soulmate duty of giving you a smooch. You can’t believe it. His pretty soulmate is asking to be kissed and he’s laughing. “Googie…” you groan, letting your foot stomp just slightly in retaliation. Now this is getting embarrassing. 

As Jungkook slowly ceases his laughter, his hands find purchase on your cheeks. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, but much to your chagrin, he squeezes them to pucker your lips.

“You’re absolutely adorable, do you know that?” 

“Jun Jungoo.” Your attempt at his name is pathetic. He laughs even harder and you hate how endearing it is while you’re trying to be annoyed. He stops squeezing but leaves his hands there.

“Yes?” Your eyes are shooting daggers at him, tired of having to beg for his lips on yours. He smiles so, so beautifully in response. It’s hard to do anything but adore him when he looks at you like that. “Patience, baby, I’ll give you what you want.” 

The descent of his face to yours seems to stretch for eternity. You can’t tell if he’s deliberately moving slow or if the world has slowed in anticipation. When his lips finally do meet your own, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and nothing you could’ve ever imagined. 

There’s a shock when you touch for the first time, causing Jungkook to recoil for a second before pressing his lips fully to yours. It feels like all the seasons at once. The brisk air of autumn, the chirping birds of spring, the running waters of summer, and the crunch of snow in winter. Your body feels weightless as though the only thing holding you to the ground is him. 

At first neither of you move an inch, your lips pressed together in the most middle school way. But once the initial wave of euphoria passes, Jungkook is moving his lips like he’s tired of wasting precious time. His hands grip your face tighter, his mouth devouring yours so passionately you can’t imagine anyone else ever kissing another human this way. You can’t even think clearly enough to do something with your hands. They lay limply at your side as you experience the utter bliss that is kissing your soulmate. 

One of you moans when your tongues meet for the first time, and you truly don’t even know who. You’re unsure where you end and he begins. Jungkook licks into your mouth and you swear you’re never letting him outside again. He’s just going to have to stand here and kiss you for all eternity. Your tongues dance together, and you finally come to your senses enough to tease him, biting his lower lip before letting it go. He groans deep in his chest and you realize you’d do just about anything to hear it over and over. 

You can see yourself passing out from lack of air soon, so you reluctantly pull away from his mouth. Only by a centimeter, enough to take a breath, but not enough that you can’t purse your lips and reach him again. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes into your mouth. “You’re… you’re everything, Y/N.”

There is no response you can muster for him in the state you’re in. All you can do is nod and slip your fingers into his hair. Pray he gets the message that yes, you’re everything and more. You’re unsure how long you stay that way, but you whine embarrassingly when he backs up to look at you better. He smiles at your reaction, his nose scrunching in admiration for you.

“Don’t laugh at my pain, Jungkook. Get back here.” 

You tug on his shirt, but he doesn’t budge. Another pout appears. He lifts your chin with his fingers, smiling and seemingly memorizing your face as he admires you. 

“Why don’t we eat first? Then we can talk,” he says.

“Talk? I don’t want to talk, I want —”

“I know,” he chuckles. “I do, too. But I think we should talk about it. I don’t think we should be rushing anything.”

Begrudgingly, you lead him into the kitchen where the food waits. The two of you eat. Well, he eats. You push the food around your plate while deep in thought. Jungkook notices your behavior while he’s chewing. A crease in his brow appears while he deciphers your change of attitude. 

“What’s wrong?” He says with a mouthful of rice. Your cheek falls into your hand, sighing as you scrape your fork around. “Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t do that,” Jungkook scolds you. “Talk to me.”

“Jungkook, you went through girls quicker than I could learn their names before all this,” you start. “So why do I get the 'let’s not rush things' treatment? Do you not want me like that?”

If expressions could speak, Jungkook’s would be saying you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No, it isn’t. I genuinely don’t understand why I, your soulmate, am being rejected.”

“You are not being rejected,” Jungkook states. He ensures you’re hearing him by locking eyes with you. Staring you down so you know he means it. “I want you. You have no fucking clue how bad I want you.” A now familiar heat flares inside you. “But you are not like those other girls. You’re more special to me than I can even put into words and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“But why?” You probe him. “Am I special because I’m me or because I’m your soulmate? Do you want me because you’re attracted to me or because the universe told you that you are?” 

Jungkook scoffs, your audacity is so much for him that he takes the time to move his plate into the sink. You hear another scoff while he’s washing it off. 

“You…” he starts, but stops to lick his lips. His eyes bore into yours with what you can only guess is a mixture of mild annoyance and curiosity. “We’ve spent nearly every day together for the past three months. I have watched every movie, read every book, and scrolled through every tik tok you’ve showed me. We cuddle in your bed watching anime together. You watch my soccer games and cook me a meal after every one.” He scoffs again just for good measure. “And you think you’re not special to me after all that? You think I’m not attracted to you? You! One of the most beautiful fucking girls on campus who I so luckily got paired with by the universe.” He throws his hands up and turns away. “Ridiculous.” 

“So…” You play with your hands in your lap. Part of you feels a little silly, but the other part craves validation. 

“So, no, it is not just because you’re my soulmate, Y/N. It’s because it’s you,” he answers, turning back towards you. “I like you.”

“But you still want to wait?”

Jungkook finally sits down again. He reaches for your hands and you gladly offer them to him. He presses his lips to your knuckles a couple times before holding both your hands between his own. 

“It’s not that I want to wait, I just don’t want to go too fast,” he says. “We just shared our first kiss. I haven’t even taken you on a date yet.” A giddy smile overcomes your features. “Let me woo you a little first, alright?” Your answer comes in the form of you leaning over to kiss him. He hums warmly, a soft chuckle breaking against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jungkook proceeds to hold his kisses hostage until you finish your dinner, which you promptly inhale and then purse your lips at him expectantly. If it was up to you, you’d kiss him until the sun comes up and your lips are raw. Unfortunately, Jungkook already knows you have a biology exam coming up and decides helping you study will be a better use of your time. It’s borderline cruel and unusual punishment. 

Jungkook makes you wait for your first date to happen. Not only is it exam season but he has a soccer game every Friday for three consecutive weeks. Once that glorious fourth Friday rolls around, he formally asks you out. The destination is a secret and he tells you to "wear whatever you want." This gives you pause because you can’t wear the same outfit to a restaurant that you can to go skydiving. Jungkook is certainly the type to pull a stunt like that. 

You meticulously curl your hair and delicately apply your makeup. This is the most important date of your life and you don’t want anything out of place. Jungkook deserves someone who puts in effort even when it’s unnecessary. Especially when this will be his first date ever. He’s never given his time of day to a girl for longer than a night. Even though he’s the one planning everything, you want it to be special for him, too. 

Nostalgia over this being your first date since ending things with Taehyung makes it difficult to push down the feeling of missing him. You were together nearly a year and a half and those memories don’t go away just because you’ve moved on. One day, you hope you can have him in your life again. Perhaps once he’s found his soulmate and you can put all the pain behind you. 

Three knocks tap against your door as you slip your dress on and ensure the placement is correct. It’s early in the season for sundresses but you enjoy driving Jungkook a little crazy. Trekking over the piles of clothes that didn’t make the cut, you open the door for him.

You’re met not with the handsome face of your soulmate, but a bouquet of bright red roses.

“Jungkook,” you gasp and take them from him. Hiding behind the large bouquet is Jungkook himself, smiling so wide you can’t see his eyes. “They’re so beautiful, thank you.” 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you. His eyes trace over your figure as he tongues the inside of his cheek. You swear you hear a quiet ‘damn’ leave his lips. He graciously accepts a kiss from you before entering your apartment. “Are you ready to go?” 

He’s wearing a dress shirt and slacks, as opposed to the usual baggy clothes he sports. The top three buttons of the shirt are undone to reveal just a sliver of his pecs. You could die happily right here and now. Your man is so fine it is physically painful to allow him outside where others can perceive him. 

Nodding in response to his question, you grab your purse and his hand before heading out. 

Contrary to where you think you’re going, Jungkook drives towards the countryside rather than the city. Your anxiety spikes when you realize he may actually take you skydiving. You watch him cautiously from your peripheral vision, but he only smirks and squeezes your thigh. 

After an eternity in anticipation, you realize where he is taking you when neon colored lights and a large ferris wheel come into view.

“No. Way.” You shift in your seat to turn towards him. “This is why we had to wait for our date. The carnival is in town!”

Jungkook’s smile appears in his eyes before it ever graces his lips. He steals a glance at you to watch your eyes light up excitedly. 

“You like it?”

“Are you kidding?” You look down. “Wait, Googie, I’m in a dress.”

“Don’t worry, I stole some of your clothes the other day for you to change into,” he explains.

“You know, if I wasn’t crazy about you that would be really creepy,” you respond. “What about you?”

“I can wear this.”

He looks down to double check. 

“Oh, thank god, if you change out of that anytime soon I’ll be so pissed.”

Jungkook parks and turns around in his seat to grab the clothes he brought for you. It isn’t exactly easy changing in his backseat, but at least he has tinted windows. A true gentleman, he even turns away from you while he waits patiently outside. 

When you step out in the jeans and blouse he chose, his eyes flicker with pride. Shoving him in annoyance that his outfit looks even better on you than the dress does, you tell yourself you would’ve picked it for tonight if he hadn’t stolen it first.

Jungkook back hugs you while you wait in line to enter the carnival. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the only tattoo on his left arm, mapping the familiar curves of your name. When he recognizes the feeling and realizes what you’re doing, he nuzzles his face in your neck and pecks your exposed shoulder. 

Comfort spreads through your chest when you stare at the black ink against his honey-toned skin. The absolute doll of a man attached to your back was hand-picked for you. Chosen by an incomprehensible force long before you would ever meet one another. You wonder how long ago your destiny was set in motion. Have you belonged together since the dawn of time? Your hands squeeze his arms in a feeble attempt to express everything you feel for him with your touch. The feelings are too extraordinary to ever describe with words. There are simply not enough of them in existence to accurately do so. 

It’s not merely the way he makes you feel as a soulmate. You’ve grown accustomed to the way your body naturally yearns for him and your heart calls to his. No, it’s the way he makes you feel simply because he’s Jungkook. Because he’s kind, gentle, and warm. Because he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters and treats you just the same. 

You don’t love your soulmate. You love him. 

Your silent epiphany shakes the ground beneath your feet. This whole time you’ve been focusing on grieving one relationship and fostering another. Taking the time to learn everything you can about Jungkook. His likes and dislikes, favorite foods, colors, and books. There is an infinitely long list of all the things you want to accomplish as a partner to him. Love, or falling in love, didn’t even cross your mind. 

The sensation is the same as waking up and not remembering when you fell asleep. Sure, you remember closing your eyes, but not the exact moment you succumb to slumber. You have no idea when you fell in love with Jungkook, just that you are in love with him. 

Your reviere is broken by the sound of the tickets ripping as the teller hands them to Jungkook. He squeezes your hip and leads you into the bustling carnival. 

Mutually agreeing to eat first, Jungkook drags you by the hand towards the food stalls. He refuses to let you pay for a single item as he buys you both some actual dinner before giving in to your demands for a sweet treat. Ironically, he’s the one who ends up refusing to share. 

After successfully filling your stomachs you decide to conquer the rides one at a time. They’re all relatively small and easy-going, but still plenty of fun. Other than when Jungkook decides to spin the teacup so fast you think you’re going to either fly out or throw up. Probably both. 

Jungkook’s competitive streak makes an appearance once you’ve tried all the rides but the ferris wheel. He insists he’s going to win you a big stuffed animal. Says it’s a right of passage and he’s not leaving until he does.

You argue the right of passage is for a guy to try and win his girl a stuffie before utterly failing. Your argument fails to take into account Jungkook being magically perfect at everything. 

It only takes a single round of tickets for him to beat the game and win the jackpot. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin and your eyes practically roll into the back of your head. 

“Which one do you want, princess?” He asks as you ponder the options. You gaze at his side profile and chuckle when you find your answer in the familiar curves of his features.

“The bunny,” you say with a proud smile. Jungkook looks at you knowingly before telling the staff member your choice. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, ya know,” he says while holding your big pink bunny under his arm. The blush on his cheeks is completely betraying his words. 

Once the sun sets you agree to finish the night with the ferris wheel. At first, you’re not worried since it’s just a small carnival wheel. That quickly changes once you and Jungkook are seated across from each other in the little trolley.

Staring up at the rusted metal hinge that now holds your life in its delicate balance, you feel your throat drying up and your blood running cold. 

“Um, Jungkook,” you say through shaky vocal chords. “I kinda forgot to tell you I’m afraid of heights.”

Jungkook looks at you incredulously.

“You didn’t think to tell me that before we got on the ferris wheel?” 

“I thought it would be fine, but now that we’re going up I kinda wanna throw up,” you admit. 

Jungkook acts immediately, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his lap. The trolley shakes momentarily and you shout in terror before it levels out again. Your hands are clutching onto his shirt so tight you already see the wrinkles forming. 

“Is this better?” He asks as he runs his fingers through your hair. You nod ever so slightly as to not disturb the state of the trolley. As your heartbeat starts to return to its normal pace, you rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Are you happy?”

It’s hard to answer him accurately when the word happy doesn’t feel like nearly enough. 

“Of course I am,” you say as you lift your head. You turn his face so he can see your sincerity with his own eyes. “You know, when I first saw your name on my wrist I thought I had the worst luck in the world. That the universe was doing something so unfair and cruel.” Your fingers run along his collarbone. You're nervous to let him see inside your heart. “But I was very wrong. I’m so lucky to have you, Jungkook.”

The trolley shakes again with the force of Jungkook’s kiss. Your shout dies in his mouth as he swallows every noise you make. The kiss is definitely too nasty for the location you’re currently in. His hand is gripping your hair like reins, his mouth chasing after yours like he’ll never let you breathe again. You moan when his tongue slips into your mouth and he growls against your lips when you move your ass across his lap. He travels from your lips to your jaw slowly, one kiss at a time across the bottom of your face. You’re whimpering as soon as you feel him kissing your neck, his lips sucking at your skin before licking over the red blotches he creates.

“Jungkook… Jungkook, baby, we’re in public,” you stall his ministrations as you try to catch your breath. It’s then you notice that you’re already on the opposite side of the wheel, having completely missed when you reached the top. “Oh.”

“Pretty good distraction, huh?” 

Jungkook is wiping your lipgloss off his lips with the back of his hand. 

“You — hey!” He laughs loudly and buries his face in your neck where his lips were moments ago. You feign annoyance and push him away from you, but you’d go another round on the wheel if it meant he would keep distracting you like that. 

Jungkook helps you off the ride by offering you his arm to hold onto. Your legs are a little wobbly when your feet meet the ground again and you’re unsure if it’s from him or the ride. 

Before you leave Jungkook finds a spot with the perfect lighting to capture a selfie. You make sure to hold your bunny high enough so it gets in the photo too. Jungkook tongues his cheek when he notices it in the photo on his phone. 

Upon your return Jungkook takes you both back to his place across campus. You carefully place your plushie in the backseat along with your dress so you remember to grab them both tomorrow. Jungkook leads you up the stairwell and unlocks the door before stepping aside to let you through first. The door shuts with a click behind him. 

The air is thick with an unspoken promise. The heat and tension sparking between you is new but certainly not unwelcome. Jungkook toes off his shoes and offers you something to drink, passing you by with a skim across your back as he heads to the kitchen. 

He’s uncharacteristically nervous. You’re unsure why when once upon a time there was a different woman in his bed each night. Has his six months of celibacy made him antsy? You feel guilty that his predicament sends butterflies flying in your stomach. The playboy bunny himself being nervous for your first time sleeping together makes you feel all the more special. 

You follow him into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his waist as he stands at the sink drinking a glass of water. He gestures for you to drink some, but you shake your head against his back. You can hear his heartbeat pounding rapidly in his chest. 

“Googie.” You grab his shoulder to turn him around. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

He smiles affectionately, caressing your face. 

“It’s not that, princess,” he says. Your brow creases in confusion, so he continues. “I just don’t know how to make you feel even half of what I do when I’m with you. What you said to me on the ferris wheel… I don’t know how to express how much that meant to me. I don't know how to show you that I feel the same.” 

“You don’t have to,” you answer like it’s obvious. “I already know.”

He shakes his head at that. 

“No, you don’t,” he responds. “There aren’t words.”

“Then don’t use words.”

Your response beckons a silence between you. There’s no sound other than your breathing and the faint hum of utilities. 

Jungkook takes a deep breath, the hand still on your face slowly tracing your outline until it reaches your waist. 

“Okay,” he whispers assuredly. 

He yanks you off the ground and your legs latch around him while your arms tangle behind his head. You kiss him first, using your mouth to coax his lips open. He moans at the same moment his hands press you impossibly closer to him. He pushes stray hairs out of your face and cradles your neck to take control of the kiss. You’re aware of him carrying you away, but you have no semblance of where he’s going because he’s kissing you too deeply to pay attention. 

It isn’t until your butt meets the softness of his mattress that you even realize you’re in his bedroom. Jungkook is quick to leave your lips so he can unbutton his shirt, but you swat his hands away before he can successfully undo the first button. 

“Nuh uh, my job,” you say as your fingers replace his own. You use the grip on his clothes to pull him so he’s standing between your legs. You kiss the skin that’s revealed as each button is undone, groaning against his skin when you reach the tight abdominal muscles you’ve been longing to get your hands on. 

Jungkook is helpless above you, panting deeply while he watches you work. Standing to push the material from his shoulders, you kiss him again. This time you take it slow, moving your lips in a tortuous rhythm while your fingers trace his biceps, nails digging into the muscles. A low growl reaches your ears and all you want to do is make him do it again. 

Jungkook finds the hem of your top, letting his hands skirt beneath it to feel your bare skin before peeling it off of you. His eyes sharpen when he gets the first real look at your chest covered by your bra. Fingers tracing ever so gently from your waist, he cups your chest and massages you. 

“Oh,” your head tilts back as you moan at the feeling of him traversing your body. He takes advantage of your movement to connect his lips to your neck. Messy, wet kisses are placed all over your throat and collarbones. 

He sits you back down on the bed without ever stopping, lying you on your back and climbing over you. You arch so he can unclasp your bra behind you. He stops kissing you for a moment so he can watch while he pulls the straps down your arms. 

“Fuck, baby,” he curses at the sight of your bare chest for the first time. “You’ve always been perfect, but damn.”  

You can only convey a giggle in response as you gesture for him to come back with your pointer finger. He obliges, kissing you again while caressing one of your breasts. His hands are rough on your sensitive skin, but the feeling is pure bliss. He pinches your nipple to harden it. Once he’s done with one he moves to the other and repeats the process until he can feel it pebble beneath his fingers. 

Jungkook is slowly grinding himself against you and you swear you’ll come completely untouched. His cock is hardening with each hump of his hips and it meets your covered pussy perfectly every time. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you moan. 

“I know, I know,” he whispers. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you.” He grabs your hips to grind even harder against you. “You drive me crazy.” You’re aching to touch and feel every inch of his skin. Jungkook begins to grant your wish when he moves away to unbutton your jeans and tug them down your legs. When he’s done, his hands take their time feeling your ankles and calves, inching far slower than you want him to before he reaches your thighs, pulling them apart. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He throws his head back with a pornographic groan at the sight of your wet underwear. You watch helplessly as his Adam's Apple bobs with the need to taste you. His hands continue their mapping of your thighs, alternating between squeezing and caressing them. And then he’s making himself comfortable, kneeling before his bed and tugging you down so you’re right where he wants you. 

“How long?”

“What?”

“Exactly how long have you wanted me?” There’s an answer waiting on the tip of his tongue. “Before or after?”

“After,” he says. You pout. “Hey, need I remind you that you were my best friend’s girlfriend before?”

“Yeah, but you saw me first,” you retort.

He doesn’t answer yet. His lips find purchase on the meat of your thighs, leaving a wet trail behind as takes his time kissing across your supple skin. 

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, Y/N,” he finally says, speaking directly into your skin. “But you wanted something I couldn’t offer and Taehyung could.”

Jungkook returns to his prior task except on the other thigh. The feeling of his lips all over you is indescribable, but the knowledge that he’s worshiping you inch by inch is what makes you dizzy. It feels like he’s trying to memorize you so he can recreate it later in his mind. As if this is the last time rather than the first. 

“Jungkookie, please,” you beg him. His face is centimeters away from where your pussy is leaking just for him. You think you’ll cry if he doesn’t touch you soon. 

He only hums before kissing you through your underwear. Your hips jump and his hand slaps against your stomach to keep you still. He’s slowly making out with your cunt through the lace of your underwear. It’s pure torture, but you can’t bring yourself to complain. His mouth feels so unbelievably good even through the fabric. 

“You’re so fucking wet, princess,” he moans against you. The vibration makes you twitch again, and he wraps his arm around your thigh to steady you. “Can drink your cum right through your panties.”

You whine pathetically. 

“Please, my love.”

Jungkook’s eyes soften, but you’re too far gone to realize the reason why. He kisses your hip bone with an adoring moan. But when his eyes dance over your figure again, watching your tits rise and fall in time with your shaky breath, they’re sharp and possessive once again. 

He sits back only to pull your underwear down your legs and tuck it into his back pocket. You clock the movement instantly, eyebrows raising at him. 

“I need something to remember tonight by, don’t I?” 

He doesn’t give you the chance to reply before he’s situating your thighs over his shoulders and kissing your clit. 

“Oh shit,” you curse.

There is a jolt of electricity that burns across your inner thighs and abdomen before simmering into an unrelenting heat. Whether it’s a soulmate thing or a Jungkook thing, you can’t bring yourself to care. All you know is you need more, more, more.  

His tongue is circling your clit before going back and forth, then trailing down to flatten against your slit. His lips come into play as well, kissing your pussy ravenously. He licks into your hole, moving his tongue in and out of it before returning to your clit and doing it all over again. When he laps at your pussy, it feels like he’s trying to drink you dry, tongue curling to bring your essence into his mouth. 

He never once stops making noise against you, grunting and groaning at the way you taste. Whispering how you "taste s’good" directly into your cunt. His hand disappears from your thigh and you realize he’s palming himself while he pleasures you. The thought alone is enough to make you cream right then and there. 

He returns to your clit to suck it into his mouth, letting his teeth graze it softly. You squirm beneath him but his arm is holding you taut. Without warning you feel two of his fingers circling your hole before pushing in. You cry out, back arching off the bed from the pressure. 

Jungkook allows his mouth to take a momentary reprieve, resting his head on your thigh while he slowly pulls his fingers in and out of you. He watches intensely as his fingers come out soaked in your juices before going back in with a squelch. 

“So pretty like this, baby,” is the last thing he says before his mouth is on you again. His fingers begin to pump faster, curling inside you and meeting just the right spot to send your mind spinning. His mouth is relentless against your clit, kissing and sucking on it before soothing it with his tongue. 

You’re on the precipice of an orgasm and you know Jungkook can feel it. Can feel the way your walls pulse around his fingers, begging for release. 

“There you go,” he whispers into your cunt. “Come for me, Y/N.”

And who are you to deny him? Your orgasm hits you like a fucking freight train, a needy cry coming from your throat while you back arcs off the bed. Thighs shaking and practically crushing Jungkook’s head between them. Nevertheless, he continues kissing your clit and fingering you until he hears your breathing even out and your body still. 

As soon as his touch is gone, you whimper from the emptiness. Jungkook meets you back at your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on him. Your hands grab his head to keep him there so you can properly thank him for his hard work. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, fighting against yours for dominance. When he inevitably wins, you moan around the wet muscle. 

He begins kissing your face all over starting from your cheek and then down your jaw before moving up again to your nose and continuing upward to your forehead and hairline. 

“You were so good, baby,” he tells you. “Everything I could’ve ever asked for.” 

You hear the sound of a belt coming undone and pants unzipping. Jungkook stands so he can kick off his jeans. The first thing you notice is a wet patch on his boxers. Your head ticks to the side. 

“Oh no, that’s all precum, baby,” he answers your silent question. “Nearly did come in my fucking pants, though. Thank you very much.” 

“Oh? I'm flattered.” You come up to your elbows to see him better. He shakes his head with a lazy grin on his face before moving towards his dresser. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook looks at you in confusion, as if the answer is obvious. 

“I’m grabbing a condom,” he explains.

You tilt your chin down with a piercing gaze. 

“Do you think I want to feel my soulmate through a condom? I’m on birth control,” you say. Jungkook’s mouth drops open in awe and he waits for you to reaffirm what you just said. You mimic his expression and nod slowly so he gets the picture. 

“Oh, hell yes!” Jungkook scurries back over to you in a flash. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggle. He’s so freaking cute even when he’s about to fuck you into his mattress. 

He’s climbing back over you now, pushing at your shoulder to lay you back down beneath him. He runs his hands up and down your waist before cupping your breasts. Just when you think he’s going in for a kiss, his head dips to take a nipple in his mouth. 

You moan as his tongue flicks over the nub and then circles it. His hand gives attention to your other nipple by rolling it between his fingers. Hands twisting into his dark hair, you tug until he releases and kisses you instead. You pull on his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp. He grunts and you do it again a little harder to make him repeat the sound. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” you speak against his soft, swollen lips. “I need you inside of me.”

Not needing to be told twice, he rises to his knees and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers to pull them down. Only, instead of moving them he merely snaps them back against his hips with a devilish smirk. 

You glare at him, reaching up to do it yourself before he smacks your hand away. 

“Ask me nicely,” he orders. 

You want to laugh and cry at the same time. This man is the biggest tease you’ve ever met and you feel like you’re going to lose your damn mind. 

“Jungkook…” you rise to your knees as well, crawling over to him. “Jungkookie…” you let your hands take a stroll across the expanse of his abs and chest until they’re digging into his shoulders. “Googie…” you lean in so you’re speaking directly into his ear. “Will you pretty, pretty please fuck me?”

This man loses his damn marbles. You shout as you’re thrown back onto the bed with a soft bounce. He rolls his boxers down his thighs and kicks them off as you’re trying to catch your breath. It’s no use because the second your soulmate’s cock is in your face you no longer know how to breathe. You fear you will need to be retaught before the night is over. 

Your jaw drops and you’re surprised you don’t drool all over yourself at the sight. Jeon Jungkook is pretty all over. His dick looks painfully hard, his precum dripping from the tip just waiting for you to taste it. It’s large, perfectly thick, beautifully veiny, and curves at the perfect angle to hit just the right spot. You think you may die the second you feel it inside of you. 

Jungkook is on top of you before you can admire his physique any longer. His tip rubs deliciously against your clit as he coats himself in your wetness. You groan impatiently as he teases you with his cock. 

He places one hand next to your head, the other on your hip so he can guide himself into you. You both watch in awe at the space where your bodies connect. Before Jungkook takes the plunge, he kisses you one more time. You smile into it. Unable to resist the physical manifestation of the happiness bubbling in your stomach. 

That smile is gone the second his tip pushes past your hole, replaced with an O shape as you gasp at the intrusion. Jungkook takes his time, whether for your sake or because he’s committing this moment to memory, you aren’t sure. 

You feel impossibly full as his cock stretches you open. Moaning without end, you hold onto Jungkook’s shoulders to keep yourself afloat. When he finally bottoms out with his hips pressed against yours, you see every star in the galaxy all at once. 

If you thought your first kiss was euphoric, this is another feeling entirely. Your body is pulsing and hot from the ecstasy, but your soul is floating in the Dead Sea. Above the surface tension of the water as a cool breeze blows.

You know precisely what a soulmate is now. One person split in half and destined to find one another. Because when Jungkook is inside you, connected with you in the most human way possible, you feel complete. It’s mind numbing. His cock is throbbing inside you and it feels like coming home. 

Jungkook’s forehead rests on yours as he pants. Your hands slide from his sweaty chest to caress his cheek. He must feel the same, and in fact you’re positive he does. There is no confirmation necessary when his soul is bound to yours. 

“You — fuck, baby — you feel amazing,” he tells you. 

You can only nod in agreement, too overwhelmed by the sensations to speak. Grinding your hips up against him, he registers it accurately as you telling him to finally move. 

When he does, it’s a slow pull away from you, leaving just his tip inside before pushing himself back in just as slowly, but he rolls his hips into you, forcing his cock in so deep you feel him in your stomach. 

The moan that rips from your throat is embarrassingly loud, but you are no longer on a plane of existence where you care. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t want a noise complaint. His hand covers your mouth as he shushes you. He leans over so he can speak directly into your ear.

“Be good, baby. I need you to stay quiet for me.” The sound of affirmation is muffled behind his hand but he watches you nod at his demand. Your eyes are peering up at him like they’re awaiting his next instruction. He groans at the gorgeous sight. “God, you’re so sexy.”

He’s still thrusting into you slowly. He watches as his cock comes back out covered in your cum. You moan every time he enters you despite his earlier request. 

When you disobey him, he looks at you with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. His hand moves away for only a moment before his two middle fingers push into your mouth. You gasp around them, but he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers. You close your mouth around his digits and suck, moving your tongue around and in between them. 

Jungkook is mesmerized by the way his tattoos disappear between your lips. Once he’s satisfied with your makeshift gag, he thrusts hard and then snaps his hips back to do it again at an inhuman pace. If his fingers weren’t in your mouth you’d be screaming bloody murder. Tears of pleasure roll down the sides of your face as he fucks into you relentlessly.

His fingers leave your mouth and grab your chin instead so he can kiss you. His body weight is on you now as he uses his forearm to keep himself up. Feeling his chest against yours as he fucks you is enough to send you into complete madness. Your nipples are hard and sensitive as they brush against his muscular pecs. 

“Baby,” you cry. He kisses your jaw and neck without ever slowing his pace. You feel your mind descending into complete chaos. Your fingernails scratch down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. It’s the only thing you can do to hold onto some semblance of your sanity. 

“Fuck, do that again,” Jungkook groans into your neck. You oblige him and he growls next to your ear. “You’re so tight, so goddamn perfect for me.” 

“You're so big, Googie,” you whine. “Feel so good.”

“Shit, princess,” he says while biting into the flesh between your shoulder and neck. Your gasp turns into a moan as he soothes the area with his searing hot tongue. 

Then, he pulls out of you, sitting back on his heels as he tries to catch his breath. You reach for him in confusion, but he just takes your hand and kisses the back of it. Holding it against his heart so you can feel the intense beating. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Worry creases your brow, but Jungkook just smiles as one of his fingers smooths it away. 

“Yeah, I was just about to bust, but I’m not done with you yet,” he answers breathlessly. “So, I had to pause. My apologies.”

You can appreciate a man who strives to make his woman come before him, but he’s also turned you insatiable, so you need to do something.

Sitting up, you travel down the bed until your face is directly in front of his throbbing dick. His eyes follow your every movement, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Allowing him to see the smirk on your lips for only a moment, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. His entire body spasms and you can see his abdominal muscles constrict in front of your eyes. You make eye contact with him in case he has any objections, but when he just stares back at you with his mouth agape, you continue your ministrations. 

You lick him again all the way from base to tip before circling his head with your tongue and lapping up the precum that’s formed in a bead there. One hand squeezes his thigh while the other slowly pumps his cock. All you can see above you is his throat. He has his head tilted back as he groans endlessly. The veins in his neck are popping out and it makes you want to lick over every single one of them. 

Continuing to tease him with your tongue, you lick gently over just his tip while your hands do the rest of the work. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you when he hears you spit. He watches as the saliva falls onto his head before you use your lips to rub it in. 

“Oh, dear god,” Jungkook gasps, seemingly to himself. 

Lips finally wrapping around his dick, you suckle on his head before slowly inching down his shaft. Your hand moves to his balls to make room for your mouth. Jungkook’s thighs are shaking beneath your fingertips and he finds purchase in your hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. 

Once you’ve made a single sweep down his cock, you pull back slowly, allowing your tongue to glide along the underside. You twist the muscle around his head before finally setting a steady pace and sucking him up and down.

You make it messy for him, because he deserves it. Breathing through your nose and keeping your tongue out to lick him as your head bobs. Drool pools in the corners of your mouth before dripping down your chin. When your nose is as close to his pelvis as you can go, you allow it to drip down his balls so you can work them with your hands. 

Jungkook looks like he may die, but that you’re the angel who’s going to bring him to heaven. His features are drawn tight, eyebrows almost kissing. His mouth refuses to close, panting out breaths like the sexiest dog you’ve ever seen.

The logical part of your brain knows that sucking him off doesn’t solve the issue at hand, but he tastes too delicious to stop. And when the hand in your hair begins pushing ever so slightly followed by his hips bucking into your mouth, you moan deliriously around him. You gag as Jungkook gently uses your mouth for his own pleasure. Letting him take over, you grip his thighs and just go along for the ride. He grunts from above as he watches his cock disappear over and over again into your mouth. 

“You look so sexy like this, princess,” he says over strained vocal chords. “Like your lips were made for taking my cock.”

Your bratty nature wants to correct him and tell him that they are in fact, made for him. You have a tattoo that says so. Instead, you relish in the vibrations of your responsive moan giving him even more pleasure. 

The sound of your spit sliding along Jungkook’s shaft and your gags as he fucks into your mouth is so pornographic you worry you’ll get a fine for filming illegal movies on campus. His melodious grunts and moans are music to your ears. You’d let him use you like this everyday if it meant listening to them.

Before you can savor the moment for much longer, Jungkook pulls you away with a growl. You gasp, your hand grabbing at your throat as you cough. 

The sweetest man you’ve ever known, even while in the throes of pleasure, leaves the bed to bring you water. You’re still trying to catch your breath when he bends down and tips the bottle against your lips so you can drink. 

“Thanks,” you croak. Sore throat be damned, you’d start sucking him again right now if he asked. He pushes your sweaty hair away from your face with both hands, cradling your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“You’re a fucking goddess, you know that?” 

A strained laugh comes from you.

“I do, in fact,” you quip. Jungkook kisses you senseless instead of replying. Before he can lay you down again, you push him instead. His back meets the footboard of his bed as you place your legs on either side of his thick thighs. “Are you ready to continue or shall I get myself off?” 

Jungkook laughs humorlessly. 

“Sit on my cock before I make you.”

If words could make you come…

As filthy as his words are, his hands still help guide over him and massage your skin while you sink down. You moan in unison, your mouth finding the mole on his neck that you’ve been dying to kiss. Hips grinding down against him, you mark him as yours as you kiss and suck on the sensitive skin of his throat. 

His hands are spread across your back as you rise up and down on his dick. He’s moaning so beautifully next to your ear that you don’t think you’ll ever stop. You repeat the motion over and over, allowing your clit to grind along his pelvis every time you sink back down. The pace is torturously slow, but it allows you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock as it moves in and out of you. 

“I never wanna stop,” you admit. “Don’t ever wanna not have you inside me.”

“I think I can make that happen,” he says over a chuckle.

Your lips meet again and you kiss at the same pace your bodies move. Jungkook’s mouth and tongue explore yours like he hasn’t done it a hundred times already, like every sensation is still new. He bites on your lower lip, pulling it away before letting it go so he can watch it bounce back. He doesn’t waste a second before diving back in for more. 

The warmth of Jungkook’s hands leaves your back and reignites on your hips. His grip is bruising as he uses it to bounce you faster against him. Your moans grow in pitch, but you muffle them by biting and kissing along Jungkook’s shoulder. When the pace still doesn’t feel like enough, Jungkook plants his feet on the bed so he can thrust up into you. You scream into his skin, holding onto his back and hair for dear life. 

“You close?” He rasps in your ear, licking your earlobe as he does. 

“Yes, baby, please,” you cry. 

Jungkook goes into overdrive, thrusting up into you at a speed and depth that feels impossible. The tip of his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again like a magnet. You can feel yourself falling over the edge any second. 

His pursuit to bring you pleasure is relentless. The friction of his thick cock inside your walls is creating hot tears of ecstasy that roll down in droves. Your bodies are touching in every possible place they can and it still isn’t enough. You know Jungkook feels the same when he squishes you against him like he’s trying to merge you into one. 

Jungkook kisses down the side of your face with wet smooches. Slobbering all over you and getting saliva in your hair. Sweat, spit, cum, you want him to paint you in all of it. Ruin you so endlessly you’ll never be able to look another man in the eye. It’s him, him and only him. Every fiber of your being is filled to the brim with just Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. You fear you’ve forgotten every other word. 

“I’m gonna —”

You stop his sentence with a searing kiss, moaning into his mouth as you come undone around him. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around Jungkook so tightly he can barely thrust anymore. Luckily, he doesn’t need to because with a few more pistons of his hips he’s groaning and nestling his cock as deep as it can go as he comes. You feel the warmth of his cum filling your pussy and dripping out around his cock to pool into his lap below. He’s still rolling his hips against you as his orgasm wanes. 

Even once the comedown ends, neither of you move. Your head is resting against Jungkook’s chest, his leaning back against the wall. He rubs your back lovingly. You focus on the feeling of his fingertips traveling up and down your spine. Before the repetitive motion can send you to dreamland, he pries your head up so he can see you. 

“I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve any of this,” Jungkook muses. You mull it over for a moment.

“Whatever you did, I’m sure you were amazing at it,” you reply warmly. Jungkook nuzzles his nose against yours.

Jungkook is careful when he finally pulls out, not wanting to hurt you after abusing your pussy in the name of pleasure. You whine at the emptiness, but he kisses your pouty lips before leaving to find something to clean you with. 

Sleep overtakes your mind before he returns. You’re in a daze as you watch him clean between your legs with a warm towel. He cleans himself off as well before joining you in the bed. By the time he’s pulling you into his arms your eyes have closed. He wishes you goodnight with a press of his lips to your forehead. You don’t hear the other words he whispers to you. 

Jungkook finds it impossible to keep his hands off you after that night. Frankly, you go at it like rabbits on crack. It begins to impede on your day-to-day life and neither of you give a damn. You nearly delete an entire assignment by accident because he’s eating you out under your desk. He risks a suspension from the soccer team by shoving his dick in your mouth in the locker room. You swallow his cum just as people begin to pile in for practice. 

Despite your best efforts, you do eventually stop fucking across every corner of campus. School ramps up and Jungkook is promoted to head striker so he’s away at practice more often. Before his first game in the lead position, he gives you his spare jersey to wear. 

Your mouth hangs open and you just stare at him because you can’t believe he’s serious. When he nods with the softest smile and stars in his eyes, you squeal like a schoolgirl. He sneaks his hands below your shirt and caresses your waist before pulling it over your head. Once you’ve pulled the jersey on and tucked it into your jeans, you look at him in affirmation. 

“What do you think, lucky number 7?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. At least not verbally. He just pulls you close by the fabric of the jersey and kisses you. The kiss is soft, but undeniably passionate. His lips move against you sensually even though there’s no heat behind it. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your nose, your eyelids, all before returning again. You let him create a map of your visage with his lips. 

When he wins that night, the jersey is the only thing left on your body as he makes love to you on the couch. 

You begin forming a routine as a couple, but it’s never complacent. There’s still romance in everything you do, even if you’re doing it for the hundredth time. As time moves forward, so do you and the past heartaches don’t weigh on your chest as heavy anymore. Your mind still wanders into painful territory every once in a while, but you’re confident in your ability to lay the past to rest. 

It helps your endeavor when the aforementioned past comes to greet you one day.

A tap on your shoulder stirs your from your inner thoughts as you walk the familiar path to the library. Turning towards the source, your feet skid to a stop when you see Taehyung rocking back and forth on his heels. 

“Hey,” he says as he kicks at a pebble near his foot.

“Hi,” your tone reveals your confusion. 

“Can we talk?” Chewing on your bottom lip, you don’t need much time to decide before you’re nodding. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Looking back, after some time and much needed self reflection, I realize that you got your heartbroken just as bad as mine.” 

“You do?”

“Yes,” he affirms. “At the time, it seemed like I was the odd man out. Sure, you and Jungkook would be losing me, but you had each other. And I was left with no one.”

“It didn’t have to be that way, Tae. You chose to walk away from us,” you reply. “From Jungkook, specifically.”

“I know. I see now how big of a mistake that was,” he continues. “I’m going to try and catch him later after practice to apologize to him, too.”

“Good,” you say. “He deserves it even more than I do.”

Taehyung agrees with a nod. 

“Are you happy? With… with Jungkook.” 

You hate the way his mouth is still turned down and his eyes don’t shine anymore. It’s obvious how sad he still is, and yet he’s here apologizing to you. You appreciate his conviction.

“I am,” you answer. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you. I know it will never be the same, but I’d like to have you in my life if possible.” 

“I’d like that, too,” he responds. 

You say goodbye shortly after that and there’s a sense of closure that fills you up from the inside after your conversation. For whatever reason, finally turning the page on Taehyung’s chapter in your life makes you want to keep pushing forward even more. Including finally letting a special someone in on the secret you’ve been holding close to your heart. 

Jungkook mentions he’s coming over after practice which means you have a couple hours to decide how you want to spill the beans. You could always just say it, but that feels far too anticlimactic. 

Sitting in your kitchen, your fingers play an unknown melody against the table as you ponder your options. It’s only when your eyes land on a certain ingredient in your cabinet that you realize exactly how you want to accomplish this. 

Your soulmate has his own key now, mostly because you were sick of leaving your bed to let him in. But also because one time you lost your key and he had to jimmy the window lock to get inside. You live on the third floor. 

The familiar taps of your fingers meeting the keyboard are the only sound until Jungkook’s voice rings out. He proudly declares that he’s home in a sing-song tone. 

“Dinner is in the kitchen,” you inform him. “I’ll meet you there in a second.”

Your nail slips between your teeth as you anxiously await for Jungkook to see your somewhat hidden message. Eyes looking towards the ceiling, you pray to the soulmate gods that he doesn’t dig into his meal before he can read it. 

You sense your prayers are answered when you hear a chair scrape across the floor and the sound of his footsteps coming towards you. Swiveling in your chair, you patiently await his arrival. 

When he enters the room, his eyes are sparkling and misty. In the good kind of way that makes you mirror his expression. His cheeks are pink with blush and he looks winded from his excitement alone. 

“You mean it?” His tone is pitched up. Giddy like a child on the playground. Trying to stop the smile from breaking out across your face is pointless. You allow that to be your answer.

Jungkook only needs two strides before he reaches you, and you stand in anticipation of what you know will come. A mixture between a shout and a laugh comes from your lungs when he lifts you into the air by your knees. You brace your hands on his shoulders as fits of laughter course through you.

“What are you doing? Put me down,” you order him. 

“Absolutely not,” he says with a shake of his head. “I want to hear you say it. Say it like you mean it, woman.”

“Wo—woman?” You chuckle. “Is that how you talk to someone who’s in love with you?” 

Any joking response dies in Jungkook’s throat when he hears the L word fall from your lips. He sighs deeply, so utterly content. He bends down until your feet are safely on the floor again. His hands cradle your face instead. 

“Say it again, please,” he begs. 

“I love you, Jungkook,” you state. 

His eyes close like you’re the sandman herself. So at peace he could fall into dreamland right where he stands. You can physically feel the tension leaving his body from where you’re holding him by his waist. 

“One more time,” he whispers, but his smirk gives him away. Your hand smacks his chest. He laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” His eyes open again to stare into yours. You think you could spend forever just looking into the deep chocolate irises in front of you. Thumbs gently swiping across your cheekbones, Jungkook does a once-over of your pretty face. “I love you.”

It doesn’t matter if you knew he was going to say it, it still brings tears to your eyes and a smile that hurts your cheeks. 

“Really?” 

He nods.

“I am deeply, devastatingly, in love with you, Y/N,” he continues. His expression shifts. “But if you ever give me good news by spelling it out with alphabet soup again, I’m leaving you.” 

You have to resist the laughter aching in your chest, but when Jungkook is feigning anger with the cutest scowl, you just can’t help it. You laugh loudly before stifling it with your hand. It’s the single most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done and yet you don’t regret it one bit. 

Jungkook proceeds to show you the selfie he took with the now infamous bowl of soup. You can barely see his eyes in the photo because he’s smiling so wide. He’s holding up a peace sign next to the bowl of tomato soup with alphabet-shaped noodles that spell out I love you in the center of the broth. 

His name is the last you expected to appear on your skin, but it’s now impossible to imagine it being anyone else. As you trace the familiar lines of his name you whisper your thanks to whatever or whoever is in charge. 

[differenteagletragedy]

Part three of Simon Riley x Single Mother <3

Part one -- Part two

It rains the next day, and the day after, then Simon gets the orders — he’d be leaving on a mission for a week or two, maybe more.

While he’s away, he thinks of you more often than he’s comfortable with. He wonders if you had the baby yet, and if you did, if the delivery went smoothly. He thinks of how you’d told him that it was just you and Charlie, and how he hopes you’re managing everything on your own.

It’s too much and he knows it, but he thinks it all the same.

By the time he gets back home, it’s been a little over a month. A few days are spent holed up in his apartment, decompressing and trying to remember how to breathe, then he’s back to it.

To you.

More walks, by the park, around the perimeter then a lap through town and back again. Eyes scanning each time, ears perked in case the little boy comes calling.

No luck — at least, not for a while. But a week or so later, during one morning stroll, there you are.

Your big belly is gone, save for a tiny little swell, and in its place is a baby carrier, which seems to be securely strapped in place, but he sees you hold onto it anyway. Sticking out of the bottom of the carrier are two impossibly tiny socked feet.

If he thought you looked tired the first two times he saw you, it’s nothing compared to how you look now. You look exhausted, weary down to your bones, but you still smile as Charlie, energetic as ever, shows off on the monkey bars.

Simon slowly makes his way over, stopping a few feet away from you. The movement makes you notice him, and you give a small laugh.

“You sure like this place, huh?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets, and says, “Trees are nice.”

There were a few cherry trees that were blossoming now, growing along the sidewalk by the street, and he did always think they were nice-looking. You didn’t need to hear, at least not yet, that he’d found something much more beautiful to see in the park now that he’d noticed you.

At the sound of Simon's voice, Charlie jumps down from the monkey bars and runs over, putting a hand on one of the baby's feet.

"This is my baby sister, Emma," he tells him. "She looks like me but you have to be careful with her because her head is soft and her neck doesn't work right."

He chuckles, then uses Charlie's introduction as an excuse to take a glance at the baby resting against your chest. He can't see much with the way the carrier is situated, just a tuft of hair sticking out of the top, then Charlie pulls his attention back to him.

"You never said your name," the boy points out.

"It's Simon."

"I'm Charlie."

"I know."

"This is Mum," Charlie says, tugging on the hem of your shirt. "She has a different name too though."

You laugh softly, and hold your hand out to Simon, telling him your name: it's your third time meeting each other, and finally, a proper introduction.

The morning goes by much the same as your last park playdate went. Charlie bounds from the jungle gym to the slides to the swings, demanding attention and applause. Simon keeps a bit of a distance and tries to ignore just how much closer he wants to be. But with how tired you are now, or perhaps now that you know Simon just the tiniest little bit better, you speak more freely.

It does absolutely nothing to stop his yearning.

Finally, Charlie starts showing signs of slowing down. He gets a little less talkative, doesn't have quite so many tricks to show Simon, and then he stands, going to you and grabbing one of your hands away from where it rests on the baby carrier.

"Can we go home now?"

You nod, smiling at the boy, and he lifts his arms expectantly.

Simon notices you frown, just a little, before telling your son, "Baby, you know I can't carry you, I've got your sister."

"But I'm tired."

"Can you walk for me?" you ask.

He sees Charlie look from you to the baby and back again, tears welling up in his wide bright eyes, and it's enough for him to speak up.

"I could carry him, if you like."

It would be a big step in your friendship, if you could even call it that at this point, him carrying your son home, but he's ready to take it. Moreso, he's ready to offer it -- he'd take so much more, anything you offered.

"... You don't mind?"

Soon enough, the four of you are on the sidewalk, with you leading the way. Charlie is already asleep on Simon's shoulder as he holds him in his arms.

"The baby woke him up early," you explain as you walk. "I thought he'd last till his afternoon nap, but then you showed up and he had to show out."

He smiles, and when he feels the warmth spreading through his chest, he knows he's in even more trouble than he thought. It was one thing, being interested in you, but it was another to be interested in the whole package.

But of course, he had been all along, hadn't he? You drew him in, something about you seeped inside him right away, digging in its claws and holding on tight, but he couldn't deny, at least not anymore, that there was something more, too. Charlie had been, every moment he'd seen him, sweet and precocious and disarming, and now the baby ...

"Everything go all right?" he hears himself asking, speaking softly as Charlie lets out a gentle snore by his ear. "The delivery and all."

"Oh, yeah," you answer, turning down a little residential street. "Quick and easy, or I guess as easy as birthing a human can be."

"You got someone helping you?"

You shake your head, smiling up at him.

"Nope, just us. We do all right though."

You guide him through a rickety little gate towards a house, cute but rundown, and unlock the door, stepping inside and letting him come in before closing the door behind him. You show him to Charlie's room, and he lays the boy down gently in his little twin bed.

"Want some tea?" you offer, and he agrees. Anything to just stay a little longer.

While you're filling the kettle, the baby starts crying. She'd fussed a bit here and there at the park, but this sounds more insistent, Simon thinks, and you sigh, the exhaustion clear on your face.

"What can I do?" Simon asks.

And before he knows it, he's in your kitchen, taking over the tea while you sit on the couch, feeding little Emma. He can hear you as he hunts through the cabinets for cups, can hear your quiet little shushes and her little coos and gurgles as she feeds, and it's easily the most domestic scene he's ever taken part of.

By the time he meets you in the living room, two cups in hand, the baby is resting in your arms. He can see her little face fully now. Charlie was right, she does look like him. And they both look like you.

You excuse yourself for just a moment to lay her down, then come back, baby monitor in hand. You set it on the coffee table, trading it for your cup of tea, and sit beside him on the couch.

For the first time, it's just the two of you.

"Can I ask you something?"

It's not the most reassuring way to begin the conversation, but he nods, having an idea of what you might have on your mind.

"What's all ... this?"

"All what?"

You give him a look -- he knows what, but he can't very well say it, so he hesitates, trying to find the best way out of this. But you, in another show of how perfect you could be for him, give him an out.

"Look," you begin, "my thing has never not been being unable to see red flags. My thing is actually kind of zeroing in on the red flags and running straight for them. And that's not you."

"... No?"

"No," you reply. "You're yellow at best."

He smirks. "I'm a yellow flag?"

You nod, smirking back, and god, he just wants you more.

"And how's that?"

"You've got ... something. You've got sad eyes. Like you've seen a lot of stuff and like you maybe don't know how to deal with it. Something to keep an eye on, but not something that's going to destroy someone else."

"You sure about that?" he asks.

"I wouldn't let you carry my kid home if I wasn't."

He nods, taking a sip of his tea. Just when he thinks he's in the clear, you say, "But that still doesn't answer my question."

Simon considers for a moment. He barely even understands the pull he feels towards you himself, how can he explain it? But you watch him with patient eyes, close enough to touch, and he knows that if he's ever going to have a shot at actually having this, for keeps, he's going to have to try.

"I ... has there ever been something that you've never had, but you still knew you wanted it?"

You give him a small smile, and there’s understanding in your eyes — of course you have.

“And what is it that you want?” you ask.

But it’s not really a question. You know, and he can see that. So he doesn’t answer, but keeps his eyes on you steady.

“Simon,” you begin, and he has to force himself not to focus on how sweet his name sounds on your lips so he can hear the rest of what you have to say. “I don’t … why?”

“Just hit me that day,” he explains, his voice low and quiet. “Don’t know why, but it hasn’t gone away.”

“And … Charlie? The baby?”

“Charlie’s a good kid. Can’t imagine the baby will be much different.”

You stay silent for a beat, then tell him that you need to go check on the kids. He’s alone again, and he’s on the cusp of something with you, he just knows it.

When you come back a few moments later, you sit a little closer, a look of resolve on your face, and he waits.

“I’m kind of a mess,” you tell him.

“That’s fine.”

“I have two kids, and their dad is … he’s not in the picture.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“… Simon, I have a newborn.”

“I know, I met her. Head’s all soft and neck doesn’t work right. I remember.”

You laugh, but it’s nervous laughter, your eyes darting around the living room like you’re trying to find more reasons for him to want to run, but with every passing moment with you, he’s more and more sure that he wants to stay.

Finally, you speak again, your hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Just … I don’t know, ok?”

“You don’t have to.”

You don’t have to know, he wants to say, because he does. He knows you fit, and that he could take care of you and your children. He could carry Charlie home when he gets tired from playing too hard, and he could make you tea while you feed Emma. He could paint the house, fix it up, replace the gate with something good and sturdy. He could fix that leak in your kitchen faucet and make your life easier and do the best thing he’d ever do, with you and your family.

But you’re not ready to hear that. And he’s a patient man. He can wait.

PART FOUR - PART FIVE - PART SIX - PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT - PART NINE

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I'll Crawl Home

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, memory loss, angst, pining (unrequited love but not really), smut (blowjob, fingering, p in v sex, creampie), love confessions, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You don't know who these men are, but they seem to know you. Your body seems to like the Handsome one a lot. But the more you manage to remember, the more lost you feel.

Author's Note: This might be one of my favorites. Enjoy!!

Title from Work Song by Hozier

Word Count: 8.6k

You don’t know who these men are. 

There are three of them, all gathered around you with frowning faces and drawn brows, and they seem worried. The tall one in the middle keeps saying your name and asking the one in the tie and trench coat if he can figure out what’s wrong with you. Trench Coat keeps snapping variations of no, he can’t, because the object was guarded against outside interference. 

The third one is silent. He’s a little behind you and wearing flannel like Tall, but his hair is shorter, he’s less lanky, and he’s touching you. His hand is on your arm, his grip so tight it almost hurts, and you’d… barely even noticed. Not because he’s almost inhumanly handsome, or because when he does grumble something in his voice is deep and soothing to your mind, but because your body hadn’t seemed to really register it. And if it had, it hadn’t been worried at all.

But you’re worried. As your brain starts to kick into gear—dragging itself out of an odd, hazy sludge—you are very worried about why Trench Coat, Tall, and Handsome are so close to you. Why Trench Coat keeps saying you’re sick—you’re tired, but overall you feel fine—and why Tall knows your name. Why Handsome is still touching you, why he’s so quiet, why when he looks at you your skin heats and your heart does a little, happy hum.

Why when you yank your arm from Handsome’s grasp, he blinks at you in confusion. Why he says your name so slowly. Why when he reaches back out to you, your body leans forward of its own accord. 

“No!” You shout, and it’s more at yourself, but Handsome’s whole face falls, and he looks like he’s been shot, stabbed, and bled out.

“Shit, she’s talking- Hey,” Tall says your name, reaching to grab your shoulder, and you start to crawl away from him. “Can you- Wait, where are you going-“

“She seems to be experiencing panic.” Trench Coat tilts his head, glancing over your shoulder. “She is likely trying to get to Dean.”

You follow his gaze, and your body is moving to where Handsome—Dean?—had backed away.

“Fuck!” You try to scramble to your feet, ready to run for your life, but you barely make it to your knees before darkness clouds your vision and your head starts to spin.

All three men shout your name, but Dean’s deep voice is the loudest, and when the world grows clear again, he the one who’s holding you upright.

Your body is slumped into him. It’s the same way you’ve slumped into your bed. The same way you used to slump against you mom when you were a kid, because you never thought she could hurt you. Because she’d felt like the safest place to be in the world.

But you don’t know Dean. 

“Don’t- don’t touch me-“ You try to shake him off, but he doesn’t let go. He just lowers you carefully down and moves away, staring at you with an expression that makes your heart ache for reasons you don’t understand. “Who are you people?!”

Tall says your name again. How the fuck does he know your name. “It’s just us, it’s-“ Tall moves to touch you, and frowns when you flinch away.

At least you still know how to flinch away. 

“I don’t knowwho the fuck you are,” you hiss at him. “Or what the fuck is happening, but I want to go home.” You hug yourself, everything suddenly cold, your voice growing small. “Please let me go home.”

Trench Coat nods. “I am able to-“

“Cas.” Dean grunts from behind you, and Trench Coat—Cas—frowns at him. “Don’t.”

“She has requested something I can assist with-“

“She doesn’t fucking know who you are.” Dean snaps, stomping past you, never looking down. It makes the ache in your heart worse. “What the hell do you think is gonna happen when you zap her back to a home she doesn’t remember?”

Tall shakes his head. “We don’t know that she doesn’t remember the bunker-“

“Yeah? Hey,” Dean says your name, his glare and tone firm. Your body has a very confusing reaction to it, your thighs squeezing together as your stomach fills with heat. “You believe in angels?”

You blink. “Like, with wings?”

Dean gives Tall a pointed look, and Tall just shakes his head again.

“That doesn’t prove anything-“

“It proves enough, Sammy.” 

“No, it doesn’t!” Tall—Sammy—crosses his arms, glaring at Dean. “She remembers her own name, it’s not unreasonable to think she might remember her home!”

“That’s cause her name is her name! She doesn’t remember who we are! She’s not going to remember anything else-“

“It may be productive to find out what she does remember before we make assumptions.” Cas cuts Dean off with clipped words, and barely flinches as Dean glowers at him. You’re impressed. Dean seems scary.

Even if your body doesn’t seem to agree. 

“Good idea, Cas, let’s just-“ Sammy drops to the floor in front of you. “Hi, I’m-“

“Sammy?” 

“It’s actually Sam- wait.” Sam blinks at you. “You remember my name?“

“No.” You shake your head, nodding up to Dean. “He said it.”

“Oh.” Sam follows your gaze with a small frown. “Do you know his name?”

“It’s Dean.” You whisper, and another strange expression flashes over Dean’s face. “But I don’t remember it, I just heard it. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s jaw clenches, and Sam sighs.

“Don’t apologize, we’re just- It’s complicated.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, scanning carefully over your face. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

You nod—you don’t seem to have a choice, and you’re not nearly as panicked as you should be—and Sam swallows.

“Okay, you know your name, so how about- What year is it?”

You tell him, and he nods slowly. It goes like that as he asks you the date, the president, how old you are, and when your birthday is. It only flips when he asks you where home is, you answer, and all three men gape at you.

“What’s wrong?” You look between their identical expressions of worry. “That’s where I-“

Sam says your name carefully, his voice tense. “You haven’t lived there in almost six years.”

You blink at him. “No… I- I live there now.”

“No, you-“ Sam lets out a long breath. “How about this, do you know what your job is?”

“Yeah, I’m a librarian.”

That was clearly not the answer they wanted, but Sam pushes on. “Okay, what kind of car do you drive?”

“I don’t drive.” You glance up at Cas and Dean, and they’re exchanging a taut look. This is so fucking weird. “I, um, I take the bus.”

“Fuck!” Dean shouts suddenly, throwing his hands in the air. He sounds agitated. It’s making you agitated. “Goddamnit, she doesn’t remember anything-“

“Actually, she seems to remember selective things.” Cas lowers down as well, his gaze seeming to drive right into your soul. “Are you aware of how you arrived here, in this room?”

You aren’t. You try to remember, and it hurts. Your whole head lights up with pain and you double-over, but that seems to answer the men’s questions all by itself, and they exchange low, tense words as you lay on the floor.

Dean keeps looking at you. He’s not speaking to you, but he keeps staring at you, and your body always seems to respond to it. His jaw clenches as Cas helps you to your feet, and your legs want to walk right into him. Dean scowls as Sam explains that you do know them—that they’re your friends, and you’re cursed, and they’re taking you somewhere safe to help you—and your skin prickles under the feeling of it. As they move you into a sleek black muscle car and take off down the road, Dean keeps glaring at you in the rearview mirror and you want to reach out and touch him. You think it would be really good to touch him.

You really want to touch him. He’s beautiful, in the shadows and low lights of the highway, and right now it’s really just Dean in the whole universe. 

Just Dean. Here. With you.

The wind is cold in your hair and loud in your ears, but the Impala is warm, and the music is louder.

Dean is louder. Singing at the top of his lungs and drumming a little off beat on the wheel, his eyes alight and his smile wide. 

He’s warm, too. You giggle and roll your eyes when he makes a terrible joke, and he grabs your face with a strong, rough, warm hand to pulls you into a kiss, all as the road keeps rushing past you-

Cas says your name, and you blink at him. You’re not sure what the fuck just happened.

“Are you experiencing memory recall?”

“I, um, what?”

“Your eyes.” He says, and you notice Sam twisting around to watch from the passenger’s seat. “They began to move in a manner similar to human REM sleep, however you remained awake the whole time. Were you thinking of something you had previously forgotten?”

“I, uh,” you glance in the rearview mirror. Dean’s suddenly fixated on the road, his grip on the wheel white knuckled. “Have I been in this car before?”

“Yeah, you have.” Sam’s words are cautious, his eyes trained on you. “A lot. Cas, you don’t think-“

“I do. I believe it may be our best shot.”

And that’s how it begins. The moment you return to the bunker—a strange, underground building they claim you’ve lived in for years—you’re rushed through the grand tour in the hopes of triggering just a little more of your memory.

You’d consider it useless if it wasn’t working. If your hands didn’t already know how to sort through their strange classification of books. If you didn’t get flashes of laughter and visions of Sam and Dean around a table in what they call the War Room. If Sam doesn’t show you the kitchen, and suddenly your brain is washed over with a memory of sitting at the table, across from him and Dean.

Dean winks at you as Sam tries to show you something on his laptop. You’re going to kill him. He’s being obvious, and a little mean.

It doesn’t stop you from following him out of the kitchen only minutes later, even though it snaps your dignity in half.

“You’ve got something?” Sam’s almost jumping in front of you, and you give him a small smile. 

“You drink smoothies.”

“They’re healthy.” Sam shrugs, his voice raising to a shout. “Cas! It’s working!”

Dean shuffles into the kitchen, barely glancing at you. “Cas left. Said he’s going to look for a better fix.”

Sam frowns. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He told me. And you should bring her to her room.”

Your eyes widen as Sam nods, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Shit, yeah, good idea. C’mon,“ Sam says your name, walking to the hallway. “This should be good for you.”

When you see your room, it does seem like your room. It’s decorated how you’d decorate it, clothing scattered on the floor that you recognize, the walls painted how you’d paint them, but there’s also a shotgun on the dresser and a knife on your bedside stand.

“Shit, sweetheart, this is an awesome gun, where’d you find it?”

You look up at Dean from your bed, fidgeting with your blanket between your fingers. “It was in one of the storage rooms. I can show you later, I think there were a few more.”

“Hell yeah,” he aims it at the wall, his smile easy and boyish. It’s adorable.

You wish he’d stop.

“Dean?”

He hums, still turning the gun in his hands, and you take in a long breath.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Dean freezes, his eyes wide and almost panicked on yours as he sets the gun back down.

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I mean, it’s us. We can be cool.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool. You have a problem, I take care of it. I have a problem,” he gestures between your bodies with raised brows, and you sigh.

“Okay.”

“Awesome.”

“Yeah.” You smile at him, and this might consume and destroy you. But fuck you, you’re going to let it. “Awesome.”

“You got anything?” Sam asks, and you nod. You might have too much. 

And none of it is making any make sense at all.

The week passes like this. More small memories come to you in visions, your head pounds and stabs with pain, Sam hangs over your shoulder and shows you countless places you can navigate but don’t recognize—their dungeon, their gun range, a place called the Dean Cave, a field, and a corner store down the street—all as Dean swirls around your head, but remains just out of sight. Barely crossing your path, looking like a deer in headlights when he does.

But you think you’ve sat with your legs over his lap in the Dean Cave. You’ve trailed after him—holding onto the sleeve of his jacket—in the corner store. You’ve had his body wrapped around yours in the gun range, his voice low and teasing in your ear as he guides your hands.

And the most memories come in your bedroom. Sitting on the mattress with him towering above you, lying on the floor with him under you, giggling as he pins you against the door.

He still won’t look at you. He doesn’t even acknowledge you anymore. He’s locking himself in his room, only coming out to get food, sort through the library, or take his car and leave for hours on end.

Sam is worried.

“This… isn’t like Dean.” He tells you, frowning at the door Dean had just disappeared through. “I don’t know what’s up with him, but you guys were really good friends before. Like, really good.” He gives you an odd look. You’ve been getting a lot of those lately. “There was a while where I was pretty sure that he was finally-“ He shakes his head, cutting himself off. “Never mind. I’ll talk to him later.”

You sleep in your room again. It’s felt strange, because your body doesn’t seem to like your mattress. It doesn’t relax into it like it should, if you’ve really been sleeping here for years. You keep waking up reaching for the other side of the bed. You keep being unable to fall asleep at all because something feels off. 

He’s still here when you wake up. His arm heavy over your stomach as he presses your back against his chest, his breath hot on your neck. 

You should’ve kicked him out last night. You try to never let him fall asleep next to you, let alone wake up in your bed. It’s cruel to you.

Because now you have to have this, and then let it go. You’ll never be able to wipe the feeling of Dean wrapped around you from your skin, and your muscles will never forget how easy it was to relax when he was holding you. 

When you roll over your hands will always know how to linger on his bare, warm chest. Your fingers will always know how to map his every freckle, even if you were blindfolded and submerged underwater. 

Your heart will always know to slow down when you look at him. Especially like this. He’s peaceful here. His eyelashes fluttering and his lips parted, his brow dropped to yours as he sleeps. 

As he has no way to know that he’s doing it.

He’s vulnerable. Dean’s body is letting him rest with you at his side. It’s letting him fall into a strong sleep with steady breaths and slack muscles, even though there’s something foreign pressed against him.

And that’s why this is cruel. It feeds your hope that this could be more. That Dean could ever see you as you see him, that he’d chose to rest with you because deep down, he loves you like you love him.

Deeply and powerfully. Irrevocably and brutally. Made of gnashing teeth and blood caking your nails, but also simple in loud music and wind, soft in golden streetlamps that cast halos around his head. Concrete. Dependable. You will always love Dean, even if you lose everything else you’ve ever had.

And he will not love you.

And this is cruel.

But you still let your face bury itself in his neck. You still let your nose memorize the evergreen and amber smell of him. You still let his skin leave burning marks on yours, as he stays asleep. 

And you just watch him. 

You have to drag yourself out of bed. You have to give Dean a close-lipped smile when he walks right past you in the kitchen, and not scream when his skin brushes yours.

It’s not foreign. 

It feels like you.

And you’re so lost. 

You don’t ask any questions. The few questions you have asked made Sam sad, like you should already know the answer, and he always does this puppy-dog face that breaks your heart. The only questions you’d really want to ask were questions about Dean. About if Sam talked to him, about why—if you’re as close as Sam claims, if these strange snapshots are true—he won’t even look at you. About how he’d looked at you before.

About how you’d looked at him.

But Sam’s too busy for you to even really consider it. He’s calling Cas and someone named Rowena all the time, he’s researching day and night to try and fix you, and he’s coming up with strange new ways to trigger your memory every day.

“Sit there.” He points to the driver’s seat of the Impala, moving around the hood of the car. “You’re driving.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know how to drive stick-“

“Yeah, you do, Dean- fuck.” Sam groans, rubbing his forehead. “Well, let’s try having you sit in it? Just to see if anything happens?”

You nod, and things do happen. When you put your hand on the gear shift, a phantom of a bigger, calloused one covers it, and suddenly you can drive stick. You don’t even have to think about it, you just can. 

It might be worse when you think about it. Sam makes you drive—telling you to go somewhere and refusing to specify any possible destinations—and whenever you try to actually dwell on what you’re doing, you make a mistake. 

So you let your body take over. You drive the Impala where your hands want you to go, and where they want you to go seems to be a dive bar parking lot.

“Huh.” Sam glances around as you both climb out of the car, a small frown on his face. “I’ve never been here before. I know it’s a stupid question, but do you know where you are?”

“No,” you sigh, letting your feet carry you to the edge of the pavement, letting your knees bend down as you sit on the curb. “Not at all.”

“Shit.” He mutters. “Well, you want a drink while we’re here?”

You nod, Sam goes into the bar, returns with two beers, and drops at your side.

“This is…” Sam glances at you, his voice soft. Apologetic. “I’m really sorry this is happening. I mean, Dean went through something similar a while ago, but at least we had an idea of how to handle that, you know? I’m- I don’t even know where to start here.” He says your name, rolling his bottle between his hands. “All we’ve got is Dean saying you touched a cursed object, but he’s being really weird and when Cas and I went back to the building there was nothing. We’re going to fix this, I promise, but...”

He sighs, trailing off, and you clear your throat. You haven’t just sat with Sam since this—whatever this is—started. This might be your only chance to try to get answers in a way that doesn’t make your skull cave in and your heart burn.

“Can I ask you some stuff?”

Sam nods, and you take a long, slow breath.

“How did I end up here? Doing,” you gesture vaguely to the air. “This.”

A small smile ghosts over Sam’s lips. “Dean and I were hunting a vamp nest, and you were one of the witnesses. You helped us out a little, we told you some stuff about how you deal with vamps, and then you got kidnapped. We- Well, we tried to save you, but by the time we got there you’d kind of saved yourself. You’d covered yourself in dead man’s blood from one of their discarded vics, and none of them would go near you. After it was done, you asked to come with us, and you haven’t left since.”

“And we’re… friends?”

“We are.” Sam says, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. “I mean, I know you and I are. You helped me organize the library when you moved to the bunker. I taught you most of the stuff about the lore, and we made up a game about it. Dean calls it dumb, but he just hates that he’s bad at it. Sometimes you go on runs with me, and then you say you’re never running again. You’re the one who convinced me to ask out my girlfriend-“

You blink at him. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Eileen. You’re friends with her too. You’re friends with everybody.” Sam offers you another smile, and this one seems less painful. “Even Rowena likes you. We didn’t have to threaten her to help us out here.”

Even as you return Sam’s smile, a last question eats at your tongue, and you’re too tired, too confused to think better of asking it.

“What about Dean?” You whisper. “Am I friends with him?”

Sam sighs. He seems to do that a lot. 

“Yes. Kind of. I… I don’t know.” He mutters, frowning at the pavement. “It’s complicated. I’m not- This isn’t really my place, you know?”

You swallow. “Does he hate me?”

Sam laughs at that. A loud, full laugh that echoes around the parking lot. 

“No.” He shakes his head, clearly amused by something you don’t understand. “I don’t think either of you could hate each other if you-“

“I fucking hate you!” You scream, shoving his chest. He doesn’t flinch. He never flinches. 

Asshole.

“You’re drunk.” Dean grunts your name, catching your hand against his chest. “We need to go home.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Winchester-“

“Yeah, you are.”

Dean starts to tug you across the parking lot, back to the car, and you hate that you just let him. You always let him. He takes you somewhere and you just follow him like a fucking lapdog. Waiting for him whenever he leaves. Whining and whimpering at the door when he’s gone and lighting up from the inside when he returns. 

Barely getting a treat or a smile when he pays attention to you. Only really getting his attention in brief flashes that build your body to an explosion before leaving you to pick up the pieces yourself. Leaving you alone, wracked with a love he can’t return, mending your own heart until he asks to break it again, and you let him.

“You’re going to sleep it off.” Dean mutters from ahead of you, and there are little blond hairs at the nape of his neck that seem silver and gold in the low light. Just another piece of him that’s impossibly beautiful. Another piece you get to touch but never keep. 

“I don’t need to sleep it off!” You yank your hand from his grip as he tries to guide you into Baby, and drop on the curb with a dramatic sigh. “Just leave me alone, Dean.”

“I am not fucking abandoning you at some sketchy bar-“

“Why not?” You raise your chin at him, narrowing your eyes. “Afraid I’ll find someone else? That I’ll crawl into another bed, and they’ll actually like me, and you’ll lose your favorite pet?”

He scowls. “We’re not having this conversation right now-“

“Why not?! You know it’s the truth, Dean! I’m just, I’m your fucking toy and you hate sharing-“

He says your name in a low warning, but you can’t stop now. This pain has been building up and up in your chest and lungs for years, and now that it’s out it’s volcanic. You couldn’t keep it in if you tried.

“But you’ll never actually care about me! I’m easy for you! That was the fucking deal, right! We’re easy for each other and that’s it, just using each other until one of us fucking dies! You keep acting like I mean nothing and then you get all fucking possessive when I try to get over you-“

“You’re not trying to get over me.” He mutters, not fully meeting your eyes. “You don’t have anything to get over. You’re just fucking wasted-“

“Yeah, I am, because you won’t just say that I matter to you-“

“Of course you matter to me, you’re my friend-“

“You’re not my friend!” You scream, your voice echoing through the parking lot. Your head is starting to spin. “Friends don’t do this to each other!”

You’re dizzy. You feel a little faint. 

And you’d just spend an hour telling Dean you hate him. But he’s still grabbing you and keeping you steady.

You really wish he wouldn’t. It would make it easier to pretend you really did hate him. That just his touch didn’t make you feel safe and cared for, even when the dickhead didn’t really care. 

“You done?” He asks, and you hum, something hot and wet stinging at your eyes.

“I hate you, Dean.” You mumble, even as you slump into him. “I fucking hate you.”

He brushes some hair from your face, and your eyes flutter. “I know you do, babygirl.” He mutters, and you don’t think he knows you’re still awake. “Let’s go home.”

Sam’s frowning at you when the real world comes back into view. And when you whisper that you’d really like to leave, he doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t even make you drive, or try to talk to you as you stare out the window. 

He doesn’t push for the rest of the day. He shows you a few more things that trigger smaller memories, and you don’t see Dean at all. 

But he’s everywhere. In every memory. You walk through the library as Sam explains a system you allegedly designed, and a memory of you explaining this exact system to Dean flashes through your brain. He’d made jokes, and you’d giggled, and his smile had numbed your brain. You try to make yourself dinner, and suddenly you’re laughing and throwing food at Dean, right before he presses you against the counter with a searing kiss. You wander through the halls and you can hear heavy, controlled steps behind you. You return to your room, and he’s at your side in bed, wearing the same flannel from the memory in the parking lot. Making you drink water and helping you change, muttering low apologies you can’t actually really hear. Tucking you in bed and tracing his hand over your face, grabbing you a trash can to vomit in when you shoot back up, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

His whole face is set in that memory, but it’s all hazy. You don’t know if you trust it, because all the other memories have been sharp and clear, but this one is dreamlike. Like even before you lost your memory, you weren’t sure if it was real. The you who all this happened to might have just made this up for herself. Made up Dean holding her hair back and pressing a soft kiss to her brow as she lay back down, even though you can still feel the warmth of his chapped lips in that exact spot. She might have made up Dean smiling at her when she mumbled that she didn’t actually hate him. She might have made up him staying when she begged him to in a soft voice. 

You don’t know. You don’t know anything. You’ve never felt more lost, never been in more pain. Your body is where it’s supposed to be, but your brain isn’t. It’s restless and worried and tearing itself apart, and when you fail to sleep your body knows how to walk through the halls, even as your whole mind spins and shreds itself to pieces.

Sam was sorry this was happening to you, but you don’t know why. You don’t know him. Every time you’ve seen Cas since you’ve returned, he’s asked you questions you don’t know the answers to. Every day your body remembers things, but you don’t. You want to, you want to so bad, but you’re adrift and drowning in a vast, cold ocean and you can’t even remember how you got there. You keep feeling like there’s a lifeline, just out of reach, but you can’t grab it. It’s not in your room, or the kitchen, or the library. It’s nowhere Sam takes you, nowhere you remember how to go.

You feel like something had been guiding you, anchoring you in the waves, and now it’s missing. Vanished from your hands. 

And now you’re lost, and in pain, and alone. Wandering aimlessly through the depths of the bunker in the dead of night, searching for a lighthouse you’re not sure exists.

You walk into the War Room, and Dean’s already there. Glass of whiskey in hand, head tipped back and eyes closed, the fancy headphones you’d gotten him for his birthday blasting music so loud you can hear it from across the room. You walk up behind him and run a gentle hand over his cheeks, and he doesn’t flinch. His eyes just open slowly and find yours in a second, his attention soft as he tugs his headphones down, grabs your hand, and kisses your knuckles. 

“Hi.” You whisper, and he grins.

“Hey.”

“It’s late.” You run a hand through his hair, and he lets you. He’s amazing and horrible, so he lets you have this. “It’s bad for your back to sleep in a chair.”

“Bad for my back?” He chuckles. “I’m not that old, sweetheart-“

“It’s bad for everyone’s back-“

“Sam sleeps in his chair all the time.” Dean raises his brows at you, and you swallow. “You’re not on his ass about it.”

You sigh. You don’t want to entertain this. You’re too tired for the fight that it will lead to. “Please just go sleep in your bed, Dean.”

He hums, and you let him guide you around the chair, until you’re standing between his legs.

“Maybe I will, if you’re there with me.”

“Don’t say that.” You whisper, unable to move away. He’s going to break your heart again. You’re going to let him, because your heart is traitorous and loves being broken by Dean. It just likes that Dean has to touch it to break it. “Please.”

He shakes his head with a long, deep exhale, and doesn’t say another word. 

But he doesn’t go to bed either. He stands up until you’re trapped between his body and the table, and places his whiskey down, his eyes never leaving yours. He’s scanning over your face with an expression like he’s lost, like he’s looking for something he’s desperate to find but terrified to see.

You don’t know if he finds it. 

All you know is that he’s touching you, and you’re molding into him, and whatever he does to you, you’ll allow. 

As long as it’s Dean doing it.

He unplugs his headphone until the music is filling the War Room, picks up his iPod, and changes the song. This one is soft, a gentle melody drowning you in honey and a daze of Dean. You didn’t think he’d own a song like this. It’s slow and romantic, and it flows so easily as he takes one hand in yours, places the other on your hip, and moves you away from the table.

He starts to sway, holding you steady in his arms, and soon you’re dancing. Really dancing, in measured, easy steps that Dean guides you through. You didn’t think he’d know how to do this. You didn’t think he’d ever do it with you.

But you’re lost in him, and you’ve never felt like you’ve belonged anywhere else. You’re drowning in the song, but Dean’s drowning with you, so you know exactly where you are. Trapped in this infinite and fleeting moment, trapped in Dean’s eyes, trapped in the warmth of his light, casting over your body and guiding you wherever you’ll need to be.

When he leans in to kiss you, you don’t push him away. You could never push him away. Your hands only know how to curl in his shirt and your lips only know how to crash into his. Your tongue always craves Dean’s taste of whiskey and pecan, and your body always knows how to catch the small sparks of lighting his touch creates, then throw them through your whole body.

And Dean always kisses you with everything he has, but this is different. It’s not desperate and needy, it’s long and deep and feels like home. When he sucks on your lower lip, it’s like he’s trying to leave a mark. When his steps still and he dips you down, you gasp, and he breathes it in like it’s more than oxygen. When your arms wrap around his neck, he pulls you closer, like you could be absorbed into his body forever. 

When he pulls away—the song long over, the only sounds in the world his ragged breath and your heartbeat in your ears—he still doesn’t speak. And you don’t move. You’ll be a statue until Dean’s command brings your back to life. You’ll be cold marble, sinking down, down, down until he takes your hand and reminds your body how to be.

And that’s pathetic.

But when he squeezes your hand in his, presses a soft kiss on the space between your eyes, and starts to guide you out of the War Room, you don’t even try not to follow him.

Because Dean would never let you stray from where you’re safe. Next to him.

Your legs are carrying you out of the war room, down a path that they remember but you don’t. To a door that your hand aches to push open, into a room where the air is warm but fresh, and an overwhelming smell of amber and evergreen tints against your nostrils. They don’t seem bothered by it. They seem to relax into it, like it’s an anesthetic. 

This must be Dean’s room. If your body couldn’t tell you that, your increasingly fragile brain would still piece it together. It’s obviously lived in—clothing on the floor, sheets messy on the bed, small bits of evidence scattered on the shelves and dresser—and there’s only one lived in room you haven’t entered before. Dean’s.

Sam hadn’t even shown you where it was.

Apparently he hadn’t needed to. Your whole body had pulled you here.

And that’s your shirt, on the bedside table-

Dean peels off your shirt without a word, discarding it to an unseen corner of the room. You fumble with his belt, your need growing and growing with every second his hands map over your body—he’s already explored it, found places you didn’t even know existed yourself, but he never seems to get sick of you—and Dean just chuckles, keeping his brow pressed to yours as he takes care of it himself. His jeans have barely fallen around his ankles when he grabs your face between his hands and kisses you until your knees are weak.

Neither of you are speaking. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been screamed or sobbed or snapped, hasn’t been moaned or mumbled or whispered. 

All that left to do is touch each other, like you have a million times before. Like you will a million times again, because you can lie to yourself that one day your patience will run out and you’ll leave, but you know you won’t. Dean’s changed your body on a level that feels deeper than skin. Your heart only knows how to beat for him. Your brain only knows how to think of him. Your hands only know how to palm at his dick, tenting through his boxers, and your lips only know how to part as he groans down your throats.

You fall to your knees, free him from his underwear, wrap your hand around his proud cock, and look up at him with a soft smile. His massive, rough hand has tangled in your hair, his eyes hooded and throat bobbing, and when you take him in your mouth you know exactly how to play him like an instrument. How to suck when he bumps the back of your throat, how to flick your tongue over the head of him, how to squeeze and jerk off the base of his cock where you can’t get him between your lips. You know to keep going as he starts to groan your name in a low warning, because if he wants to cum in your mouth, you’d never stop him.

That’s another taste you’ll always crave. Salty and bitter and so purely Dean, marking you in a way he can’t take back.

But he pulls you off with a firm tug of your hair, wiping a little drool from your lips with his thumb before tilting your head up and crashing his lips into yours. When Dean hauls you to your feet you crumple into him, and when he tosses you onto his bed you giggle, crawling backwards and spreading your legs in a silent offering you’ve given him a million times before, and will never stop giving him as long as he takes it.

And he always takes it. Dean’s eyes always darken, and he always prowls over you. But it’s never like you’re prey. Never like you’re just a body to be taken and notched on a bedpost. 

It’s like you’re something he’s trying to bathe himself in. Like an external piece of him he’s trying to protect and tend to by covering himself in it. It’s why he always dives down between your legs first, keeping you pinned to the bed with a hand on your stomach, shoving his tongue deep into your cunt and pressing his nose on your clit until you’re writhing and suffocating him between your thighs. When he moves to pull that bundle of nerves between his lips—pressing his tongue flat against you and sucking—a coil in your gut snaps, and you drown his face in your release.

Your body only ever does that for Dean.

You don’t think he knows that. And every time you think to tell him, he’s always already moved on. Risen above you and shoving two fingers into your still raw and sensitive pussy, finding the deepest part of you like it’s a magnet, and rubbing on it as he watches you come undone once more. 

He cleans his hands with his mouth, licking them and smirking at you as you reach for him, trying to grip his body and pull it down over yours. He usually takes his time—teasing and edging you until you’re a whining mess—but tonight really is different. His smile on your flushed, already wrecked face isn’t taunting or lustful, it’s relaxed. And he still doesn’t speak, but when he kisses his way over your navel, up your chest—stopping to suck on one nipple as his hand plays with your other breast, because he’s Dean and he can’t help himself—it’s louder than anything else in the world. He’s taking him time because he’s trying to keep you in his bed. He knows that once this is over, you’ll gather your things and leave, like you always do to protect yourself.

So he’s giving you a reason to stay.

He nips and sucks up your throat and over your jaw, plants kisses everywhere on your face but where you’re begging for him, and pins your squirming body to the bed with his full weight before his mouth finally makes its way to yours. 

He’s kissing you into the mattress, kissing you until your lips are swollen and your head is spinning from oxygen deprivation. He only pulls back to watch his hand stroke his cock, right before he guides himself into your dripping, fluttering pussy and bottoms out in one thrust. He lets out a low grunt as you adjust, and when he rolls his hips, you moan.

And he falls right back into you.

From there it’s only Dean. Fucking you until you’re scratching at his chest and putty in his arms, your mouth is slack as he groans and grunts above you. He hikes your thigh up to push his cock in at a deeper angle and marks your neck and shoulders with bites and hickeys that you hope never fade, building his speed until you’re just a squirming, whining mess and he’s slamming into you at a brutal pace. 

He doesn’t slow down when you cum, clenching around his cock and screaming a high whine of his name. He only swallows the sound with a bruising kiss, plunging his tongue down your throat and rutting harder and harder into your cunt. All you can do is take it. You’ll always take it. If this is how to you get to have Dean, you’ll never push him away.

He cums with a roar against your lips, trigging one last, small, shuddering orgasm through your body, and collapses on top of you.

Dean rolls you over until he’s beneath you, caging you against his chest with big, strong arms. He doesn’t pull out—letting his cum drip down and dry on your thighs—and when your look up at him he’s staring at you with a drunken, awestruck expression. 

His eyes are already drooping, his breathing slowing to an even, steady pace as he keeps you trapped against his body. You wish your hands could remember how to pry him away before he falls asleep, because now you’re going to be trapped here for a long, painful night where Dean’s sheathed inside you and you can smell and taste him everywhere, but he’s still not yours to have.

Yet, you can’t move.

And right as his eyes close, he mutters your name. You almost don’t hear it. You’re not sure you did hear it.

“Dean?”

He repeats your name, and it’s barely a breath. 

“Wha-“

“I love you.” He mumbles your name one last time, and you gape at him. He doesn’t even know he’s speaking. “‘m sorry. Love you. Don’t leave.” He buries his face in your hair, and he won’t remember this in the morning. “Please don’t leave me.”

“What are you doing in here.” 

You drag your gaze away from the bed and turn to see Dean, wearing flannel pants and a white sleep shirt. He’s not glaring at you, even though you’ve invaded his room without permission. He just looks weary. Tired.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, rooted to the spot. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Something pained flashes over his face, and you feel small cracks form across your heart.

“Whatever.” He mutters, walking right past you without another glance. “Get out.”

“No.”

You don’t know why you said that. This isn’t your place to be, especially when Dean doesn’t want anything to do with you. When he doesn’t want you here. But you don’t feel adrift here. And you don’t want to go.

Dean stares at you. “What.”

“I’m not going.” You hug yourself, your eyes moving back to the shirt on the dresser. “That’s my shirt.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes as he mutters to himself. “So a fucking shirt you remember. Awesome.”

You swallow. “Why do you have my shirt, Dean.”

He goes rigid, but doesn’t speak, so you keep going.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” You don’t realize you’re walking forward he’s closer. It feels right. “Sam said-“

“Sam doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.” Dean grunts, but he doesn’t move away. Even when you move closer. Even as you push on.

“Then you tell me.” You sound like you’re pleading. You kind of are. “Every time I remember something you’re there, but you won’t even look at me! I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what’s going on, and I keep thinking about you but you’re acting like you want nothing to do with me-“

Dean’s jaw clenches, his words pushed through his teeth. “That’s not true.”

“It is! You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me!” You feel like you’re going to cry. You haven’t even wanted to cry, not since this began, but something has crashed down inside of you, and this room feels like a safe place to fall apart.

Dean feels like a safe place to fall apart.

“I’m, I’m so lost, and I don’t know what’s going on, and everything keeps coming back to you but I don’t know who you are! You won’t tell me who you are, Sam won’t tell me who you are, and I feel like I’m supposed to know but I don’t! I know who I am but I feel like I’m missing something, and everything hurts, and I just- I need to know-“

Dean grunts your name, and you let out a choked sob.

You’re sick of being lost. You’re sick of not knowing. And when you meet Dean’s eyes they’re like a beacon, and you can’t help but float into them. 

“Who am I to you, Dean?”

“You’re the love of my life.” His voice is hoarse, and his eyes widen slightly at his own answer. You don’t think he expected it. 

“I’m-“

His hands grab your face—holding you so carefully, like he’s practiced this a million time—and you melt into his touch. 

“You’re everything to me, and I- I fucking failed you.” Dean’s thumb traces over your cheekbone, wiping away a tear. “I can’t fix it. I’ve been fucking trying, baby. I promised you I’d try, but I can’t. I- I can’t. I need your help but you’re-“ He makes a low, strangled sound, dropping his brow to yours. It fits perfectly there. “I can’t do this without you. I never tell you that, I never say that I need you, but I do, and I failed you, and now you’re-“

Dean’s whole body shudders, and your arms wrap around him on instinct alone. He falls over you, clinging to you like you’re going to vanish, and-

“You don’t have to do this.” Dean mutters in your ear, and his hug is going to suffocate you, but you don’t care. Maybe he’ll leave an indent on your body. “We can just fucking destroy it-“

“Because trying to destroy cursed objects has worked out so well for us, historically.” You give him a sad, dry smile, and he shakes his head. 

“There’s another way. There’s always another way-“

“We don’t have time for another way. And it won’t be permanent. All curses can be cured.”

“But we don’t even know what the hell this one does!” He shouts, and you don’t wince. He’s not mad at you. “‘Taking what you value most’ could mean anything, could fucking do anything-“

“I know. But it will kill you if I don’t-“

“We don’t know that-“

You do know that. So does Dean. This object latched onto Dean, and it will either leech his life slowly, involuntarily, or take something from you, along with a piece of your memory. And you’ll lose whatever you need to if it keeps Dean safe.

“Listen.” You hold Dean’s gaze, making your voice firm. “Don’t tell Sam and Cas. They’ll get caught on what happened, and you’ll all start fighting, and we can’t afford that. You just need to find what I value, bring it back to me, and I’ll be okay. Got it?”

Dean shakes his head. “How am I supposed to know what you value if you won’t tell me-“

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “I- I honestly can’t think of what I value most, but hopefully you’ll notice something is missing, and you can track it down.” You give him a soft smile. “I believe in you, Dean. And if I’m awake, I’ll try to help you.”

“You won’t remember-“

“It should only take my memories relating the thing. I probably won’t even know anything is wrong.”

“But I’ll know.” He mutters. “And what if I don’t get the thing back to you-“

“You will get it back to me.” You say simply. He’s Dean. You trust him with more than your life. “And I’ll be okay.”

You start to move away, but he doesn’t let you go. He’s pallid and bloodless from the object draining him, but he’s still strong. And you don’t really want to leave him at all. 

“Don’t. Please.” He mutters your name, and it sounds like a prayer. “I’m not worth this, baby.”

“Of course you are.” You smile at him, tears stinging your eyes as you manage to force yourself away. “I love you.”

His eyes widen, and he looks like he wants to say something, but anything he can say will only make you hesitate.

So you turn away.

Right before you touch the object you have a thought. An epiphany that—if your hand wasn’t already pressed on the object’s cool surface—would have made you break down and scream for Dean to make you stop, to drag you away.

But it’s too late. And everything goes dark.

“Dean.”

He leans back to look at you, and you know him. You know everything about him, and it’s destroying your brain and body, trying to break out but trapped down. This pain is horrible.

But Dean is good.

“You love me?”

He swallows, but nods. He seems afraid. Tense under your hands, like you’re going to push him away and he’ll have to just take it.

He won’t. Because you do the only thing you’re certain you know how to do.

You kiss him.

It’s like fireworks, but there’s no electrically you haven’t felt before, no colors you’ve never seen. You’re swept up in his waves and wide fire, but it could never drown or burn you. You’ve adapted to move with it, to breathe in his water and smoke and trust him to bring you exactly where you need to be.

Against his chest, dipping and holding you steady, pouring his all and then some into your body. And your memory doesn’t crash back into you, it just washes over you like rain. 

Dean pulls back, and you smile at him like you always have. Like you always will.

“Hi,” you whisper, and he grins. 

“Hey,” Dean says your name, and you’ve done this dance before.  “Are you-“

You kiss him again, and you know exactly who Dean is. What he is to you, how he loves you in strong, unspoken silence that kills you and cures you all at one, and how you might be built to love him. 

You are.

And he’s built the same way for you.

End Note: Obsessed with love as a thing that happens to you physically, if you can't tell. Thank you for reading!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn