#thank fuck it's his last week and tomorrow's his last day

[hl-obsessed]

fic rec: january-february | links to the original manip

💎✨ The Green Room by @jasthelarrie

(M, 112k) “For the last time, go away! This is fucking harassment, you know that? I’m well within my rights to call the cops.” Louis wished he could have hidden the tremor in his voice. He knew that it was thick with emotion. He was frustrated, angry, and beyond devastated.

“Uh…”

That was definitely not his ex's voice. Louis froze. Who had he just sworn at?

AKA

Louis has just been through a bad break-up and accidentally verbally assaults unsuspecting flower delivery man Harry.

scent holding me ransom by @the-larry-way

(E, 1,8k) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

✨ all the sins you didn't have by @twopoppies

(E, 99k) It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron.

Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake. Harry strikes him and his gigantic ego off the list immediately… At least until they realize they have a common set of enemies and a common goal: revenge.

Though their ruse starts smoothly enough, the decadent freedom of Belle Époque Paris gives way to the rigid social rules of aristocratic Victorian London. Can a relationship that started as a calculated deception withstand the harsh realities of societal expectations and family duty to become a love more honest and profound than either has ever known?

✨ Things I Want, Things I Need by @canonlarry

(E, 14k) Most people don't find out whether they're an alpha, beta, or omega until somewhere around their eighteenth year, which means Louis finds out he's an omega long before his best friend and sometimes lover Harry will get a clue. Zayn is the loyal alpha friend who takes care of Louis during his heats. Liam is Zayn's beta mate, Niall tries to keep the peace, and Harry just wants to know what he is already.

✨ To find home (is wherever you are) by CrOminona

(E, 46k) Harry will wake up tomorrow and life will go on as always. They will go out with their friends, they will catch up and have fun. And then one day too soon Louis will pack his bag again, will find a flight to wherever he hasn’t seen yet and he will leave the city.

Harry will stay behind, waiting for the texts he barely receives sometimes, some of them sent at weird hours because of time zones. Days will become weeks, life will carry on in London with little to tell and a lot to do. And one day Harry will stop counting the hours that has passed since he last saw him and just expect Louis to appear whenever he pleases. Could be three weeks. Two months. One and a half. They never know, but Louis always comes back.

Go With It by embro

(NR, 4,4k) Prompt: "You thought I was someone else and started making out with me in a club and you're really hot so I just kinda went with it and now we're heading back to your place and I don't know how to break it to you"

don't let it break your (arm) by @the-larry-way

(G, 816) Louis seems to have forgotten his husband thanks to the wonders of anesthesia. Doesn't mean he's forgotten his attraction though.

Tattoos and Temptations by

(E, 67k) “Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

don't call me baby by @vintageumbroshirt

(G, 2k) A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

The Only One (when it's said and done) by @londonfoginacup

(T, 6,1k) Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.

Sweet Baby by @jishlerfics

(E, 5,3k) “Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

💎✨ And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 22k) “Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch. “Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

.💐💐💐

(okay so i didn't read much and these are some amazing fics that i mostly barely remember reading 🙄 seems like i have to do reread of them all 🙈🙈🙈)

.💐💐💐

all my fic recs

[seokmins]

i have been silent this whole month out of the tiniest shred of respect i'm holding onto as a "mentor" but i'm so sick and tired of all the damage control i'm having to do for this intern!!! and all the consequences of his lackadaisicalness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lunarfortune]

[sungbeams]

MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs

they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?

⟡ ┆ pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)

⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare

⟡ ┆ word count. 6.4k

⟡ ┆ note. i know the hype around tipsy hee already died down but i simply couldn't let this go. started writing it literally the same day the pictures dropped, then got hit with a massive writers block and only recently managed to finish this. biggest thanks to @jayparked who listened to me complain about this fic and contemplate just deleting it all. this fic wouldn't be here without her :(

"Fuck, Hee—" your broken moans echo off the dark walls around you as you throw your head back at the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot that has your hips chasing after his, "feels so good. Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Not planning to, baby," Heeseung grunts out his reply, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back to meet his sharp thrusts, sending shockwaves up your spine all the way to your head, making you feel woozy at the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up. One of his hands moves up your body, his fingers wrapping around your throat and applying slight pressure to it to cut off the needy whines spilling from your mouth. Your eyes roll back at the sensation, head falling forward and your body crashing into the counter beneath you, your arms too weak to hold yourself up anymore. 

"That's my good girl, so desperate for my cock, huh?" Heeseung smirks to himself, continuing to roll his hips into yours. He wants to tug on your hair, hold you in place so he can look at your fucked-out face, but he knows he needs to be careful not to wreck you too much, not to leave any marks — or at least none that leave no doubt as to what you're doing here.

Truly, the two of you should be ashamed about what you're doing, but neither of you can bring yourself to care — not in the slightest. Right now, the only thing you're concerned about is Heeseung's cock repeatedly drilling past your folds into your soaked heat, how snug your walls feel around him, hugging him, molding to his shape with each snap of his hips. Maybe come tomorrow when you wake up and you think back to this moment, you'll bury your head in your hands and wonder what drove you to make such stupid, such careless decisions. 

After all, you are currently having sex with your boyfriend in a private powder room at an afterparty you had been invited to as brand ambassadors. You should be professional. Mingling with people, maybe having a drink, getting some of your pictures taken, but no, instead you're getting your guts rearranged by a man barely anyone knows is your boyfriend.

In your defense, the past few days had been beyond stressful, and you hadn’t been able to get any alone time with Heeseung in what feels like forever. Not during the busy days ahead of your flight to Italy, not during the 14-hour plane ride from Seoul to Milan for Fashion Week, and certainly not during all the schedules you had the past two days. Moments of privacy had been sparse, reduced to rare bathroom breaks since you shared a hotel room with one of the other members of your group.

----

Stepping out of the van to attend the afterparty, you force an effortless smile onto your face, repeatedly reminding yourself that this was your last schedule of the night and then you'd get a night of sleep just to hop onto another seemingly everlasting flight back home where you’ll be greeted with at least a few days without any public appearances. So you push yourself to ignore the ache in your feet from wearing heels all day, ignoring the throbbing in your head from the lack of sleep, food, and water, which only intensifies from the flurry of flashing cameras greeting you, or the pinch in your lower back from where you assume a safety pin must've come loose.

Hours pass by in the blink of an eye, pictures being taken with either your fellow group members or other celebrities and influencers also attending the party; a drink gets pushed into your hands, and the alcohol momentarily numbs your body and washes the pain away, allowing your shoulders to relax and your breaths to deepen as you take in your surroundings. Lo and behold, a few feet away from where you are, you find him standing: Heeseung. Hands in his pockets as he's talking to some unidentifiable celebrity in front of him.

Almost as if he feels your gaze on him, he glances away from the man before him, your eyes meeting for a brief moment. You take an involuntary step forward, like he's drawing you right in, before your manager steps in your line of sight, "They want a picture of you girls with Enhypen, something about wanting the two K-Pop groups attending in one picture together."

You nod your head at her words, trying to steal one last look at your boyfriend, only to see him walking right in your direction, together with Sunoo and Jungwon trailing after him, their manager leading them right to where you're walking to.

A staff member pushes and pulls you all into position, telling you where to stand and how to pose, and by some sort of miracle you end up right next to your boyfriend. Your manager shoots you a quick look, and you teasingly roll your eyes at her as she's silently warning you to not make your relationship too obvious, seeing as your company has been pretty outspoken about not wanting the public to know about what was going on between Heeseung and you.

While the photographers look over their pictures, trying to decide if they need more or if they're satisfied with what they got, you lean slightly to your right, close enough so the man next to you would be able to hear your hushed whispers, "You know...I heard some people talking about there being private restrooms at this venue. Just thought I'd mention it in case you'd like a moment alone to take a bit of a breather from all the socializing."

"Oh? Is that so?" you can hear the slight smile in the low rumble of his voice as he leans down, masking his closeness by adjusting the leg of his pants, "Guess I'll have to check them out in a bit then."

"Alright, everyone, we'll take a few more pictures and then you can go back to the party," one of the photographers interrupts your conversation, drawing all attention back to the front. You position yourself slightly to the left again, creating more space between your boyfriend and you to avoid angering your managers.

A few more pictures taken, and you're finally released. Almost instantly, you excuse yourself from your group, beelining towards the aforementioned restrooms, making sure not to draw any attention to yourself despite your heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of some alone time with your boyfriend, sending blood rushing through your ears, loud enough to drown out the quick click-clacks of your heels against the tiled floor underneath you.

The anticipation is killing you as you're waiting for Heeseung to show up, staring at your phone just to see the status of your message to him with the details of exactly where you are change from 'delivered' to 'seen' right in front of your eyes. Minutes feel like hours as you tap your foot nervously against the marble floor beneath your feet, trying your best to ignore your throbbing pussy, your folds covered in your slick and clinging onto your underwear already — all just because of the mere thought of what he would do to you within these four walls.

You glance at your phone again when three rapid knocks followed by two more taps against the wooden door next to you startle you. Opening the door with a smile on your lips, you lean out slightly, your head turning left and right to scan the hallway, "Are you sure no one followed you?"

Wordlessly he nudges you back inside and closes the door behind you. His lips are on yours in an instant, moving with familiar desperation as he pushes you against the closed door. His hands are all over you, grasping onto your hips, pulling them flush against him and allowing you to feel the growing bulge in his pants press against your lower abdomen. Your heart beats erratically in your chest — the sound almost drowning out the soft clicking of the lock turning behind your back — hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as lust takes over you, clouding your mind. His lips work against yours in a beautiful frenzy, rushed but still taking his time, nipping at your lower lip, entangling his tongue with yours in a passionate dance that wordlessly tells you everything you need to know.

Your body relaxes right against his, all tension melting away with each movement, the space between you charged with tension, thick and hot, as Heeseung pulls away. 

"Don't worry, we're all alone, baby," he breathes against your lips as his mouth trails down to your neck, eagerly covering your skin in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair. 

The tiny voice in a deep, dark corner of your mind tells you not to mess it up, not to leave a single trace for people to suspect what the two of you left the party for, to avoid any scandal at all costs. But your need to be as close as possible to your boyfriend overrides any and all logic left inside you, so you ignore it, pulling him closer to you instead and letting him graze your skin wherever he desires. Contrary to you, he seems to still have some care for the consequences of your escapades, seeing as he moves down the collar of your dress to continue the path of his lips there, sucking and softly biting the supple flesh, leaving marks easily hidden. 

With his hand pressing against the small of your back, he pulls you away from the door, and the two of you stumble over towards the massive mirror situated behind the vanity of the powder room. Your ass digs into the cold marble of the counter as he crowds you against it, fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip — enough to almost hurt, the sensation just the right mix of pain and pleasure to pull a whimpered plea from your lips — before moving lower. His hands massaging your round cheeks has you biting your lip, whining as he lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist just to feel his hard cock straining against his pants and press right into where you need him the most.

"Hee...please—" you cut yourself off with a moan, louder than you had anticipated, and he quietly shushes you in response.

“Shh, baby, we don't wanna get caught now, do we?"

His lips form into a smirk against your skin as you shake your head with a slight pout on your lips. You really don’t want to get caught; you don't want to even think about what it would mean for both of you if people found out about what the two of you are up to in here, but your mind is begging, screaming at you to let it all out, let him know how good he's making you feel.

"You can be loud in the hotel; how about that, sweetheart?”

Oh, screw him. Getting you worked up over the possibilities the future holds for you before even having you now.

Your reply comes in the form of a quiet whimper, mind wandering off to all the possibilities your soundproof hotel room offers. His hands snap you out of it, interrupting your train of thought as they push underneath the bottom hem of your dress, reaching for your soiled underwear to press his fingers right against your cunt, feeling just how absolutely soaked he has gotten you.

"Fuck, baby, what's gotten you this wet, huh?"

"You, Hee—" you exhale, chest heaving up and down as he toys with your clit through the damp cotton of your panties, hips bucking up to chase his fingers, "please...please just fuck me already."

“Love when you beg for me like this. Shit," he groans, eyes closing for a brief moment in a hopeless attempt to compose himself, panting like a dog as he pulls away from you. His hands move over the buckle of his belt in a frenzied rush, fumbling slightly before he manages to undo it, opening his zipper with shaking and twitching fingers. His pants hit the floor with a thud, joined by the black briefs he had been wearing underneath, and he's back on you before you even have a chance to gawk at his cock, thick and heavy, with an angry tip, red and leaking precum already. Despite having seen it multiple times, it still never fails to take your breath away each time you get a chance to look at it. 

His lips crash against yours in an almost bruising kiss, distracting you from his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, pushing it to the side as his other hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself a few times until he lets his head kiss your entrance. In one fluid movement he pushes himself inside you, both of you letting out synchronized moans as you feel your walls stretching around his girth. His size still surprises you, despite this not being the first time together with him, and even though your cunt is dripping — your slick arousal running down your folds just to pool underneath you — you're still having trouble taking him wholly. His throbbing length fills you up so well you swear you feel him all the way in your belly, gasping as you spread your legs wider to grant him even more access to your wet pussy.

His fingers find their way back down to your clit, no longer obstructed by your underwear, massaging it slowly to help you relax around him. And it works; your body lets go, tension melting from you as you allow him to pull back slightly and thrust back in again, slowly managing to push further and further into you until he fills you to the hilt, his hips making contact with your ass. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you try your best to muffle your moans. Your cunt molds itself around him with each clench of your walls, desperate whines tumbling past your lips as his cock pulsates deep inside of you, as you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. 

"Taking me so well, baby, such a good girl for me. You ready for me to move, sweet girl?"

You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words at all, mind fuzzy with pleasure. 

And he hasn't even started properly fucking you yet. 

Heeseung presses a gentle kiss against your lips, already swollen and raw, his bruising kisses lingering on them, before he begins to move, hips thrusting into your greedy hole as you cling to him, holding on tightly as best as you can. His forehead falls against yours, labored breaths mixing together and becoming one as you pant into each other's mouths, a needy blend of curses occasionally interrupted by your names tumbling from both of your lips. Your eyes meet his, losing yourself in them as they pull you in further and further. His gaze makes you want to shy away, intense and all-consuming, while at the same time it just as well makes you want to throw your head back, moan his name for everyone in this building to hear just how good he's making you feel.

"So good—fuck, feels so good, Heeseung," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you lean further into his embrace, his arms holding you upright as the control of your own body slips further from your grasp.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly how you wanted him all night, his cock brushing right against your cervix with every thrust, his hands all over your body in a desperate frenzy, his mouth latched against yours, tasting you like a starved man. The feeling of having him all over you is overpowering your every sense, hopelessly trying — and failing — to keep your moans at bay, choking back a desperate whine in the back of your throat.

Heeseung can't help but coo slightly at you, your urgency going straight to his ego, as well as his cock, twitching deep within your spongy walls as he moves your legs to wrap them around his waist tighter as he grunts and groans, "Such a dirty thing, letting me fuck you right where anyone could hear us. Shit, gonna let me use your pretty cunt, gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs like the little slut you are?"

Your answer comes in a whined 'yes' as you throw your head back, eyes screwing shut, hot sparks shooting through your whole body. Your legs twitch around his hips, nerves tingling as you start clamping down around him. Lust clouds your judgment, wanting to draw this out as much as you could, not wanting to cum just yet. Staying in here any longer than absolutely necessary wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do; in fact, it would be the complete opposite of smart. With every second the two of you are together in this restroom, his cock pressed deep inside you, brushing against your cervix, you risk the chances of getting caught, of someone hearing you moan out his name.

Fortunately for you, Heeseung seems to have a similar thought process. Slowly, his thrusts come to a halt, and he pulls out of you. The emptiness he leaves behind rips a pitiful whine from you, and he shushes you by pressing his lips against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before moving you off the counter and turning you around. You don't mind him manhandling you — you enjoy it even — his touches soft but forceful as he makes your back collide with his chest, your eyes meeting in the big mirror in front of you.

"Be a good girl and bend over for me."

His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and drenched with desire oozing off it thick like honey as you feel his cock dig into the flesh of your ass, the combined sensations sending shivers down your spine. His fingers graze your thighs as he lifts the bottom of your dress above your ass, letting it pool around your hips. Slowly, he pulls your underwear down your legs, his blunt nails scraping your burning skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The ruined cotton falls to the tiled floor beneath your feet, transparent and sticky with your arousal, as you lean your torso onto the counter, holding yourself up with your shaking arms. You step out of them, blindly kicking them to the side to allow yourself more freedom to move.

Impatiently, you look over your shoulder, wiggling your ass to silently urge him to hurry up and get back to fucking you again. He can't resist the temptation, even if he would’ve attempted to try, running his hand over your bare ass, caressing your soft, round globes before landing a slap against your smooth skin — not a particularly harsh or painful one, not nearly as forceful as you know he’s capable of, but hard enough to send a wave of electricity through your body, a muffled sob falling from your lips at the sensation — before placing them back on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising grip.

Not wasting any more time, he slides right back inside you. The different angle pulls a moan from you, mixing with the low groan falling from Heeseung's mouth as your warm pussy embraces his cock. One of his hands presses against your back, pinning your front against the cold marble counter underneath you, your arms shaking as you scramble to find something to hold onto. The sounds tumbling past his lips make you clench around his length, the low rumble of his groans bouncing off the walls surrounding you, his chest heaving up and down with each erratic roll of his hips turning you into a panting mess as he repeatedly hits that one sensitive spot within you. You try your best to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure clearly written on his face right as you cum, but you simply cannot. 

Your head falls forward, eyes screwing shut as you let pleasure take over you — your mind, your body, all of your senses.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor, looking up briefly just to see his eyes trained right on where you're connected, watching his dick disappear within your creamy hole again and again, laser-focused as if he was in a trance. He pulls you back to him with each of his thrusts, making you meet him with even more force. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, your sobs joining the squelching sound of wet skin slapping against skin reverberating around the room. He drives inside you at a merciless pace, each thrust harder than the last one, making your entire body jolt at the force of them.

Heeseung steadies himself, taking his hand off your hip to place on the counter beside you, quickening his pace just slightly as his cock twitches inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

"Hee-'m so close," you whine, fingers clawing at the marble counter, legs shaking as you feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge with each drag of his heavy cock inside of you, each snap of his hips against yours.

Heeseung throws his head back at the sensation of your cunt fluttering around him, groaning out as his nails bite into your skin, "Just a bit longer, baby, almost there."

His hand on your shoulder pulls you up, your back colliding with his chest as he continues the merciless pace of his thrusts. The angle at which he keeps fucking into you feels overwhelming, consuming your whole mind and body, yet pleasurable in the best way, and you swear this is the closest you've ever been to heaven before. Your soft whines and pants turn into moans, growing louder with every passing second as you hold onto Heeseung's arm wrapped around your front, pressing you into his chest.

In a moment of clarity, Heeseung notices just how loud your moans have gotten, and as much as it pains him, he knows he quickly has to think of something to silence you unless you want someone to hear you on the outside of the door, resulting in a guaranteed scandal. His solution: his hand wrapped around your throat.

A gasped whimper escapes your mouth as you feel his fingers pressing into your skin, the slight pressure and the weight of his hand against your throat causes your head to spin, his grip not strong enough to hurt or leave marks but send dizzying pleasure right to the depths of your belly. Your breath hitches as your airways constrict, eyes rolling into the back of your head, hand reaching up to hold onto his wrist, making sure his hand stays right where it is, already addicted to the feeling.

The lack of air combined with his relentless thrusts sends you into a frenzy, you feel like you're floating, your limbs tingling, and the world around you blurs, your only focus on Heeseung's gaze that meets yours in the mirror in front of you. He's attentive, watching you closely and making sure you can still breathe — which you can, but the thrill of it all leaves you light-headed and gasping for air — while chasing his own high, pressing his lips into your shoulder to muffle the desperate groans threatening to escape him. 

His grip on your throat tightens, just barely, but enough to cut off your air supply for just a short moment, the rush sending a brand new wave of arousal pooling in the depths of your belly. It feels like he's everywhere — his cock thrusting into you at a merciless pace, his hand wrapped securely around your throat while his arm winds around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, not allowing you to move in the slightest. The intensity of it all is overwhelming your senses, the lack of oxygen making everything sharper, more intense, and you're reveling in the sensation of him pounding into you and sending every nerve in your body buzzing with electric pleasure.

"God, so greedy, couldn't even wait until we were back at the hotel, could you? Just had to have my cock buried deep inside you, can't get enough of it, right, princess?” he grunts lowly as he loosens the grip on your throat, lips pressing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your walls clamp down on him while you suck in a desperate gasp of air. 

You're too far gone to respond, your mind clouded with lust, hazy and floating like a cloud on a balmy spring day. All you can do is moan out his name, over and over again, a prayer falling from your lips as he continues thrusting into you, your body pushing against his tight hold of your waist, instinctively moving to meet every snap of his hips. His pace is relentless, Heeseung's thoughts replaced by his need to cum, desperately chasing his own high as he drives you closer and closer to the edge of blissful oblivion. The coil inside you winds impossibly tight, your legs shaking, and if it weren't for your boyfriend holding you upright, you know you'd be a mess of tangled limbs on the cold tiled floor beneath your feet already.

"Cum inside me—fuck, Heeseung, please," you plead breathily, your voice cracking as desperation takes over it, insatiable hunger and need setting your insides on fire.  

"Shit, you want me to cum inside you, yeah?"

His hand rubs over the mound of your ass, soothing your raw skin, sensitive from the slap he delivered to it just mere moments ago. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips with such force you're sure to find bruises the following day. 

“God, yes, Heeseung!” you cry out, your voice breaking as you feel the knot inside you tighten rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it's a white-hot ball of pleasure, ready to explode and set your body alight.

He leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers into your ear, “Be a good girl and cum for me, then you’ll get what you’re asking for. Come on, let go, cum for me, pretty girl."

And just like that you find yourself tipping over the edge, his words breaking the dam inside you and allowing your high to crash over you like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its wake. Pleasure courses through every inch of your body. Every vein, every nerve is set alight and dragged along the powerful and overwhelming waves of your release. Your slick walls clamp down around him like a vice, spasming with every drag of his cock, every brush of his mushroom tip against that one spot that makes stars explode in front of your eyes.

His grip on you loosens enough to allow your upper half to fall forward, catching yourself as you lean on your forearms, left panting and completely undone as you gasp for air, lungs burning and desperate for the sweet taste of oxygen.

Heeseung lets out a strangled moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt tightening around him with even more force, his control slipping as his thrusts become urgent and uncontrollable. He murmurs something underneath his breath, but the rush of your heartbeat echoing in your ears is too loud, drowning out his words, which you assume are mumbled curses of your name.

You lose yourself in the sensation, barely able to form any coherent thoughts as your climax drags on. Each wave drags you deeper and deeper into the current of pleasure, leaving you gasping for air, body twitching and trembling as Heeseung prioritizes his own pleasure, chasing his high with renewed fervor.

Heeseung has never been a selfish lover, always putting your pleasure first, making sure you got to cum at least once before even letting himself think about the possibility of his own release. And maybe that’s part of the thrill for him, repeatedly — intentionally — edging himself until he finally gets what he wants from you, driving himself to the edge of his release over and over again until he is so sensitive he feels like he’s about to explode from just the slightest stimulation.

“Oh fuck, baby—“ he pants with a strained voice, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breaths ragged as he finally allows himself to let go.

With a low guttural groan, Heeseung spills himself inside of you, thick spurts of his warm cum shooting deep into your pulsing cunt, painting your insides white and oozing out of your pussy past his cock. The heat of it sends tiny aftershocks through you; your body shakes as you try to catch your breath, looking into the mirror to see him working himself through the last dredges of his orgasm, jaw slack and body trembling. His face is glistening with sweat, beads of it rolling down his throat and disappearing beneath the neckline of his black shirt.

The sight of him is enough to make you ache with need all over again — his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes dark and unfocused as he watches his cum leak out of your wrecked pussy around his length. You cannot help but think of the folder on his phone, password protected to keep it from the wrong eyes and filled to the brim with pictures you hope never see the light of day: his cum dripping out of your ruined cunt; his cock shoved into your mouth, the lower half of your face messy with a mix of spit, cum, tears, and lipstick; love bites scattered across the skin of your neck and the insides of your thighs like the constellations of the night sky. If you had more time, you’re sure he would add to that growing collection of his, pulling out his phone and snapping multiple pictures until he was satisfied, moving your body into various positions to get the best shot.

Instead of allowing your small daydream to become reality, Heeseung pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness leaving you whimpering and clenching around nothing, the squelching wet sound of him slipping his cock out of you echoing around the room.

He takes another moment to admire the mess he's made of you, leaning back slightly as he watches his cum drip from your drenched hole. He reaches out, letting his fingers run between your folds to collect his cum just to shove it back into you. The sight of your pussy swallowing his digits, your puffy lips embracing them with ease makes his cock twitch again, overstimulated and sensitive but still aching for more.

“Hee—fuck, please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, mind fuzzy and eyes heavy as you watch him through the mirror in front of you. 

You try to drink it all in, wanting this moment embedded in your memory until the end of your days. His dark hair falling into his eyes, focused on the white globs of his cum slipping out of your cunt from around his fingers and running down your thigh. His skin is flushed, sweat beaded on it like little gems glued to reddened satin. It trails down his neck to his chest, revealed by the undone top button of his shirt. 

Heeseung interrupts your little ogling session when he pulls his fingers out slowly, savoring the way you shudder at the loss. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before he gently turns you around to face him: lips puffy and swollen, eyes watery and completely wrecked despite your combined effort to prevent just this from happening when you were still able to think clearly before your minds were clouded with lust. 

“You did so well, baby,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice thick with a twisted mix of pride and possessiveness as he angles your head so his lips capture yours in a kiss that sends another wave of burning heat through you, igniting the glowing embers lingering deep within you.

His hands slide to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he effortlessly lifts you up, your bare thighs resting on the vanity underneath you, the cold marble biting into the raw and tender skin of your ass.

“Made such a mess, can you feel it dripping out of you?” — you nod at his question despite knowing he didn’t ask for you to answer — “Want me to clean you up?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out your reply, eyes glossing over at the intention.

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, the unspoken meaning of his words written as clear as day on his face as he slowly lowers himself to the tiled floor beneath his feet, spreading your legs in the process to make room for him to fit between them. He looks up at you from between your spread thighs, leaning forward slightly to press his lips against the insides of them, alternating between nibbling and sucking, sure to leave marks for you to find the next day. A whispered sigh of his name slips past your lips as you throw your head back slightly, his lips ghosting closer and closer to where you need him, to where his cum was still dripping out of you.

His warm breath fans over your wet center, lips just a hair's width away from your pulsing cunt when a gentle knock interrupts you. Heeseung jumps up at the sound, back on his feet in an instant. Your eyes are wide in panic as you meet his gaze before you both turn to the door.

“Shit,” Heeseung mouths as he rushes to grab some paper towels to wipe your mixed juices from between your thighs, hoping that whoever just knocked on the door isn’t aware of the fact that there are currently two people in this bathroom. Two people who certainly could not afford to be caught in a position like you are currently finding yourselves in.

“Heeseung? It’s me, Jay.”

The sigh of relief leaving both of you could almost be described as comical if not for the tension still lingering between you, all the worries and anxieties of a secret relationship almost coming true. Haphazardly, Heeseung pulls his pants up, the undone belt still hanging from his hips as he helps you down from the vanity, hands tugging at the hem of your dress to give you at least a slight bit of decency. He takes one look in the mirror, letting out a small groan before shuffling over to open the door.

The moment the door opens, Jay turns towards both of you, hands buried in the pockets of his pants as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. The redness of his ears confirms your suspicions that he most likely heard more than you would’ve liked, immediately sending your blood rushing to your head, face burning with embarrassment at your friend catching you in such a precarious position. He clears his throat once, trying — and failing — to subtly take in Heeseung’s appearance before shooting a small, albeit flustered, smile at the two of you.

“We gotta leave, like,” he takes a look at his phone to check the time, “right now, actually. I already bought you both some time, told them you weren’t feeling well, and Heeseung wanted to make sure you’re alright. You should…clean yourselves up a bit. Meet us at the entrance in 5?”

You both nod as you watch Jay turn to leave after looking your boyfriend and you up and down once again, shaking his head as he deeply sighs in disappointment — a sound almost eerily similar to one you had heard your parents make several times when you were younger — and you swear as he walks away you can hear him mumble to himself about how you were like two hormonal teenagers, not able to keep it in your pants for even one night.

“Well, guess we gotta get you cleaned up, huh, sweetheart?” 

“Oh no, we don’t!” you jab your finger into his chest as he chuckles at you, “I get cleaned up, and you can go meet up with everyone. It’ll be less suspicious if we don’t show up at the same time.”

Heeseung holds up his hand in fake surrender, a smile still playing with his glossy lips as his eyes roam over your body with one last hungry gaze. Despite the burning ache inside him, the quick kiss he presses against your lips is nothing but sweet and gentle, tenderness quickly replaces the darkness formerly taking over his eyes, “I’ll text you later. Maybe we can manage to sneak you into my hotel room later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” your hands wrap around his arms, giving his biceps one last affectionate squeeze before ushering him out of the bathroom and away to join his group members, giving you a few more precious minutes to clean up, make yourself look somewhat presentable — or at least presentable enough to not have any fans or press question just what exactly happened over the past hour — and find out where you had kicked your underwear in the heat of the moment.

You take a moment to watch your boyfriend walk away, the slight bounce in his step is a dead giveaway for the people who knew him that he just got laid, but lucky for both of you, no one of importance should be able to figure him out and turn this whole thing into an issue for the two of you. Just as you’re about to turn around and assess his damage in the big vanity mirror, Heeseung turns around one more time, eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes you in, watching the way your eyebrows rise on your forehead in a silent question at his sudden halt.

“Oh, and baby?” you nod your head in response, “Make sure to wipe the lipstick from your chin. We wouldn’t want anyone to find out what a greedy slut you are for me, would we now?”

© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[astonmartinii]

false start | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem swimmer reader

some people are getting a bit too ahead of themselves

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

espn

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lillyking and 509,455 others

tagged: yourusername & lewishamilton

espn: the 2024 paris olympics kick off tomorrow and we'll be keeping a close eye on the pool. and despite being one of the biggest names in the sport and the fiance of seven-time f1 world champion lewis hamilton, we don't predict to see y/n y/ln on the podium this summer.

view all comments

user1: when will y'all learn?

user2: i swear they did this back in 2021, saying she wasn't good enough any more and then BAM she won double gold and they were suspiciously quiet after

user3: i hope she dunks on their heads again

charles_leclerc: STOP UNDERRATING HER I SWEAR TO FUCK

user4: bro hasn't even started as lewis' teammate and he's already ready to throw down for y/n

charles_leclerc: i have been a fan of the queen since before i even started in f1 - no one disrespects her in front of me

user5: espn better be shaking in their boots after that

lewishamilton: 😐

user6: the king has spoken

user7: it's an emoji babe

user8: real lewis fans know that this is worth a thousand words

user9: the picture with the double gold is going to hit like crack i fear

user10: best believe i know that they'll tag espn just to be messy

user11: i'm sat. i'm so sat. the cinema workers have told me she doesn't compete for a couple days but i'm simply so sat

yourusername: ⏳

user12: OKAY SLAY

user13: i need these golds like i need air

user14: okay queen i need you to run back the celebration from last olympics

user15: time to become an honourary aussie for a couple weeks to support y/n

user16: LET'S FUCKING GO KANGAROOS

user17: run me my passport australia

user18: when will lewis get his australian citizenship

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 1,459,833 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: go get em'

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user22: gIVE ME ONE CHANCE PLEASE GOD PLEASE

user23: sorry to everyone else at the games, but the hottest couple has arrived

user24: tiktok girls PSA: if i don't have ten alchemy edits of them on my desk by tomorrow morning THERE WILL BE ISSUES

yourusername: for you sir, anything

yourusername: ugh your ✨ title ✨ is so hot

lewishamilton: let's win and then put it to good use 😉

landnorris: do you people mind?

yourusername: why are you always in our business? don't you have your own little guppy to follow around in paris?

lewishamilton: he's just lonely? or not? i can't keep up with his relationship drama

landonorris: EXCUSE ME?

yourusername: you're excused? we've been together for like eight years we aren't used to whatever drama you've gotten yourself into

lewishamilton: eight years, six months and 237 days :P

user25: first espn and now lando? they're not holding back this summer

user26: fucking around and finding out is what summer 2024 is all about

georgerussell63: good luck y/n !!!

yourusername: thank you georgie :)

georgerussell63: and i checked, i don't think there's any gb swimmers in your events (other than the relays) so you'll have my full support

yourusername: thanks?

lewishamilton: he's a little confused but he's got the spirit

user27: i need y/n to win and come to the paddock with her medal for zandvoort

user28: i am seeing it and i need it to happen

olympics

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 893,209 others

tagged: yourusername

olympics: never in doubt, y/n y/ln takes gold in the 100m backstroke final!

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user29: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user30: suck on that espn

user31: espn admin come outside rn please i jUST WANNA TALK

lewishamilton: @espn KEEP MY (soon to be) WIFE'S NAME OUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

yourusername: that was so hot

lewishamilton: you wiping the floor with the whole pool was so hot

lewishamilton: but then again you're hot doing literally anything

yourusername: says you mr model

lewishamilton: i got a few things i wanna model for you ...

yourusername: is it my gold medal and nothing else ?

lewishamilton: how did you know ???

user32: so winning a gold medal really does make you horny on main

user33: some of us lived through them with no PR managers, this is tame

user34: they're one couple where it really wouldn't surprise me if something got leaked

yourusername: can confirm it tastes as sweet as it did in tokyo

oscarpiastri: could you hear me cheering? i was so loud :)

yourusername: funnily enough, no

oscarpiastri: oh :(

yourusername: but i felt it in my spirit!

oscarpiastri: good :) because i think i have slightly deafened your husband 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: my ears are still ringing but i'll take it because you were supporting y/n

yourusername: awwww you cuties

user35: yall saying that kimi antonelli is lewis' grid kid but it's clearly oscar

user36: if i watched lewis put yellow and green glitter on oscar's face on live tv it's not a conversation to start with

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, jensonbutton and 1,459,783 others

tagged: olympics & lewishamilton

yourusername: gold in both 100m and 200m backstroke is more than i could've ever dreamed coming into these games, thank you to my family, friends and wonderful fiance for their support. and to the others, you know who you are, be careful on all those false starts you keep making ;)

view all comments

user38: where are you ? LET'S BE HAVING YOU !!!

user39: her winning the golds regardless isn't enough i need a gun

espn: ... i'm sorry?

lewishamilton: YOU SHOULD BE

espn: sir, i am just an intern who posts what i am given

yourusername: well now you're making me feel bad

espn: i can give you my boss' email?

lewishamilton: YES PLEASE LET ME AT EM

user40: bullying works?

lewishamilton: i'm so so so so so so proud and so so so glad that everything lined up for me to be there and witness your excellence in person 🙇🏾

yourusername: i love you so much and couldn't have done it without you, all those facetime dates and missed anniversaries are worth it in the end

yourusername: although i am looking forward to following you around the world again for a bit

user41: thank fuck you're not retiring ????

yourusername: who said that ??? @espn was it you again??

espn: not this time i swear!

yourusername: i can confirm that i am not retiring, us terrorising all the youngsters in our sport is kind of our whole bit

lewishamilton: although some people could learn to walk away - cough @fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: really?

lewishamilton: beef waits for no one

fernandoalo_oficial: well i personally was cheering on y/n, you can choke

user42: how does y/n look so good even after racing?

yourusername: getting laid well and often 👍🏼

lewishamilton: you're welcome

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lewishamilton: i love you more

fin.

note: hope you guys enjoyed!! swimming is always my favourite olympic sport (i also swam for ten years so that's probably why lol)

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the anniversary. l Joel Miller

Summary:  he forgot about a very important date for you

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do that), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), cum play, breeding kink or just talking about kids

 A/N:  somehow it came out the same way. I hope you like it. Thank you for every feedback, it means a lot to me.

The car quietly pulled into the driveway and after a moment the engine and the lights were turned off. He didn't get out right away, he just reached for the phone lying on the passenger seat and glanced at the last message Tommy had sent him.

He cursed quietly under his breath. This renovation had been causing them problems from the start and they wanted to finish it as soon as possible, but Joel's blood pressure rose every time he saw or heard that something would extend their work again. This time it was the same.

"Fuck." he hissed under his breath, resigned.

His gaze rolled over the quiet area immersed in sleep. It was already around midnight. Once again he had spent way too much time at work.

The car door slammed shut and his steps headed towards the door. The lights inside were dimmed, you had left them on just enough so he could safely move around the interior.

His gaze wandered to the couch in the living room, he was probably secretly hoping to see you there, but it was so late that he knew it was a foolish hope. You worked too, and you looked after the house and were there for Sarah while he was at work, which was... for too long lately.

His legs took him to the kitchen and the fridge, but when he opened the door he froze for a moment. There were several containers full of food on the shelves, and he definitely hadn't seen them there this morning. The cardboard box from your favourite cake shop looked completely untouched. And that bottle of champagne.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. Joel swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten and a heavy stone sinking into his stomach.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

More pieces of the puzzle started fitting together in his head. Fresh flowers in the living room, candles standing on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

When his eyes stopped at the calendar hanging on the wall he knew he had fucked everything up.

His hand went to his hair and he ruffled it wondering how angry you could be at him. Joel would probably rather you were angry because the disappointment in your eyes would kill him.

He couldn't hide in the kitchen forever though so he headed upstairs. He glanced through the ajar door to Sarah's room. Her bed was empty. That's right, for a few days you both told him that she would be staying at a friend's.

Another stone fell into his stomach.

The bedroom you shared was dark, but a small lamp was on by the bed, your silhouette was outlined under the sheets. This view was one of his favorites. You were sleeping quietly breathing.

Joel took off his shoes and shirt, throwing it towards the laundry basket. He climbed onto the bed and gently kissed your shoulder, then once again until you purred quietly.

"J-Joel?" your voice was quiet and sleepy "Is something wrong? What time is it?"

"Late. Midnight or something." he replied, resting his arms on either side of you "Baby, I'm so fucking sorry..."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands so he wouldn't see your embarrassment. You hoped that this conversation wouldn't happen, that you'd forget and go back to normal. But Joel didn't like unfinished business.

"I felt really stupid." you finally spoke up "For a moment I even wondered if I hadn't mixed up the dates. So I found the marriage certificate…"

"I messed everything up. I remembered that, at least at the beginning of the week."

"Yeah, I know. You worked a lot." your hand stroked his scratchy cheek "At least we have so much food that we don't have to cook tomorrow. And Sarah will be really happy about the cake I bought."

"That's not fair. You worked too, and then you came home, did all these things, and remembered our anniversary."

"Multitasking."

"I told you, you're better than Wonder Woman." you giggled, and that brought him relief "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am. I fucked it all up."

"You fucked up." You nodded, but your smile softened it "But we can still do something about it."

"Yeah?"

A sly smile appeared on his lips as your body settled beneath him. Your hands slid gently over his chest to his soft belly where your nails scratched it pleasantly.

He leaned down and his lips brushed yours, nibbling gently before his warm tongue slipped inside, caressing you pleasantly. A quiet groan escaped your throat.

You couldn't remember the last time Joel kissed you like that. The last few weeks had been quite hard, his late homecomings didn't make anything easier. In the evenings, you both fell into bed and before anything could happen, you fell asleep deeply.

Now, you had time and the house just for yourselves.

"Joel?" you murmured quietly as his lips moved to your neck. "Maybe you're tired, huh? I don't want you to be unconscious at work tomorrow."

A single movement of his hips and the large bulge hidden in his jeans rubbing against your thigh was a clear answer. He kissed your lips again and then sat up, removing the sheets from you.

"Oh, baby..." he sighed seeing that you were only wearing his shirt and panties "Even if I was on my deathbed I would ask for the opportunity to eat you out."

"God! Miller!" you laughed "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You won't understand." his large hands slid down your thighs squeezing them lightly "It's such a man thing."

His fingers reached for the hem of your panties and he slid them down without much trouble. He spread your thighs apart and you felt the heat flooding your neck. You were totally exposed to him, but Joel always made you feel totally sexy and desired even in a situation like this.

He settled himself between your thighs giving them a few kisses and squeezes. It was like a final countdown to what was about to happen. One, slow lick and the air left your lungs.

"So pretty." Joel mumbled and you bit your lip "I'm a lucky bastard."

You didn't have a chance to respond as his mouth closed over your heat. His tongue teased your button.

"Jesus!"

That was all that could escape your lips as you tried to catch your breath and control your body. Joel made sounds like he planned to eat you out completely and leave you barely alive. Unconsciously, your hips jerked trying to break free from the pleasure his mouth was giving you, but his hands held you tighter to the mattress.

"Stay." he mumbled "You're not going anywhere."

One of your hands tightened on the headboard of the bed and the other tangled in Joel's hair. You felt him slide his tongue into your heated pussy, in and out, his thumb making small circles on your clit. You felt his scratchy stubble on your thighs, his hands pressing you down to the mattress.

"I'm so close...so close..."

"I can feel it, baby. C'mon, let go."

His two thick fingers slid into you without a problem, finding the right spot. You clenched your thighs tighter, but that didn't stop him, his fingers moved faster and faster and after a moment, indescribable pleasure spread through your body.

"Oh my God!" you moaned "Fuck!"

Joel didn’t wait, freed himself from between your legs and unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock. He gave it a few pumps, his hands were slick with your juices. But it was his eyes that were the most hypnotizing. Those beautiful, brown eyes turned almost black. You knew he wanted you so much.

Not a word was said. His cock touched your pussy and after a moment he easily slid into you, stretching your walls pleasantly. Joel lay on you, pinning you harder to the mattress with the weight of his body. His fingers slid into your hair and his lips crushed yours. You only had time to wrap your legs around his waist before he thrust in for the first time.

His cock pushed in harder and deeper. You wanted to catch your breath, but Joel's mouth was swallowing you and it wasn't until he buried his face in your hair, moaning loudly, that you managed to do it.

You loved it when he made such dirty sounds, but living with a teenager, he had to hold back. Now Joel gave you a real concert.

"You're so tight, baby. So fucking good for me." he moaned in your ear. "I missed that pussy so much. I want to fuck you all night long."

You couldn't answer. No grammatically correct sentence was able to form in your brain. Your pussy took over and the only thing that slipped out from between your lips was:

"Harder, Joel… Fuck me harder."

Joel got up and knelt on the mattress. He threw your legs over his shoulders and held them tight, then began to pound into you harder and harder. Every movement was precise and hit exactly where you needed him. His cock moved hard inside you and you felt yourself getting closer to the edge really fast.

"I'm close, baby!" he panted "Cum for me, I want to feel you."

"Joel..."

"C'mon, baby." His thumb found your clit again and rubbed it hard "Fuck, c'mon!"

Your body arched. You could feel your walls squeeze his cock, the muscles in your legs quivering, but Joel didn't slow down. A few more hard thrusts and he filled you to the brim, a groan of pleasure escaping his throat as he tilted his head back.

"Sweet Jesus..." he mumbled, lowering his arms and letting your legs fall onto the bed, "Fuck, I've missed this so much..."

His cock slid out of you, and some of his seed flowed out of you after it. He watched it for a moment, then his fingers lazily pushed it back in.

"You know..." he began as his eyes moved to your face, "We should start talking about this eventually."

"About what?" you asked.

Joel laid down next to you, sliding down his jeans and laying completely naked, still breathing deeply.

"About kids." he replied calmly, turning his head to face you, "I'm not getting any younger, and I'd really like to have a kid or two with you."

"A kid or two?" you laughed.

"Yeah, why not?" his eyes shone so beautifully when he spoke about it "I would like to see your belly grow full of our baby. You will be even more beautiful. Besides, you are a wonderful mother to Sarah, she adores you. Would you like that? Because if you are not ready, baby, we can wait with it. We still have time."

You stroked his cheek, smiling fondly at him.

"I think I am ready, sweetie. It would be a wonderful journey together, don't you think?"

"Definitely."

You moved closer to him and snuggled into his arms. You were happy and you didn’t want to give up this moment for anything in the world.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[tpwk-formula1]

Could you please write a story where lando x reader have basically 'adopted' keegan (even tho he's like 3 yrs younger than them) and she hates whenever they make him do dangerous stuff

AN: SPECIAL EXTRA FLUFF POST!!!! (I know I said I wasn't gonna post a fluff this week but this came in and I got too excited so I quickly wrote it before work! NOT proof read!

OMG stop I absolutely love this idea!! I stopped writing a fic to get this one started! I did switch timelines just a big to make the story work so pretend the video on Quadrant where Keegan tried Karting for the first time happened after summer break!

TW: NONE

WC: 1.1K

Y/N POV

"Keegs, have you eaten anything today?" I ask walking up to him with the sandwich I had made for him before we had left for the yacht day.

"I had breakfast," he says softly knowing we had eaten over 6 hours ago and he had been outside all day in the sun.

"Keegan, you're an athlete stop being stupid," I laugh while tossing him the sandwich which he great fully took and started eating it.

"He's a grown man, love. Let him live," Lando tells me softly while approaching me from behind and taking me into his hold.

"You too Norris, sit down and eat," I say while passing him the second sandwich which has him groaning but instantly sitting next to Keegan and starts eating his sandwich.

"Whipped," I hear Max Fewtrell say from somewhere else on the yacht making me shake my head and threaten him with the last sandwich in hand.

"You and P are such moms," Max rolls his eyes while taking the food from me and sitting next to his best friend.

Over the last year or so the friendship between Lando and Keegan had grown from more than just a sponsored athlete to a truth friendship. When the younger boy started coming around it was almost instant that my motherly instincts kicked in with him.

I mean hell when he called us after winning gold at the Paris Olympics I hadn't stopped crying from podium. He still laughs about it and even pokes fun but he has also on multiple occasions expressed how thankful he to have Lando and I in his life.

Once the yacht day has come to an end we make our way back to the house we had rented for the week.

"We're going cliff jumping tomorrow, do you guys want to come?" Martin's friends asked the rest of us when we had made it back to the house.

"No," I instantly say a long with P while all the boys instantly say "yes" making me look directly at them.

"Have you all lost your damn mind? 1 of you is in contract for racing which mind you comes back in just a few weeks and the other just came off of Olympic gold, you need to be fucking careful," I start ranting while Martin starts laughing at the group dynamic not expecting anything less from us.

"It's fine, we'll be fine," Lando reassures me making me me shake my head.

"Get Zak's approval and then it's fine," I say with a smirk and a little shoulder shrug knowing his boss would lose his ever living mind if he found out his young driver is trying to do something so dangerous.

"Please! I promise we wont get hurt," Lando begs giving me his puppy dog eyes I have never been able to say no to, a long with Keegan behind him giving me the same look.

"Okay fine, but I swear to God if you get hurt," I say while pointing a finger before the two boys.

With that the broke out in bright smiles and Lando instantly took me into his arms and places a few kisses on my lips.

We're now coming to the end of our trip when Lando and I are relaxing in bed having some much needed downtime when a knock rings out through our room.

"Come in," I call out grabbing my bookmark and putting the book I was reading to the side.

When Keegan walks in he has a nervous expression written all over his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask sitting up a bit taller making Lando sit up a bit more noticing the serious expression written across the younger man's face.

"Can I ask for some advice?" Keegan says while walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Of course, you can sit on the bed," I say laughing a little when I noticed him awkwardly standing near the end of the bed.

"So I've been talking to this girl," Keegan starts while sitting on the bed.

"Aye! My man," Lando says excitedly while dapping Keegan up making his cheeks grow even redder.

"Well anyways, her name is Ella and we've been talking for awhile and I want to make it official but I'm nervous she might say no and I also need ideas on how to plan the perfect date to ask," Keegan admits making me smile. While it might have been Lando's first time hearing about about Ella, Keegan had already come to me about her and from what I had gathered he really liked her and she seemed really sweet.

After about an hour of planning the most perfect date for Keegan to take Ella on he thanked up both before leaving the room with a bright smile on his face.

"That's my son for real," Lando says laughing making me shake my head with a laugh falling from my lips.

"He's such an awesome kid," I reply back before cuddling closer into Lando's side.

"Did you pull the same move on Carlos when you where asking me out," I tease with a smirk on my face.

"Maybe," Lando admits with his cheeks reddening.

It's been a few weeks since summer break and we already have a week off from racing which means it's time to film for Quadrant and as we pull up to the track both Lando and Max have been suspiciously quiet about what we will be filming.

When we pull up to the track I see Keegan almost instantly making everything click for me.

"No! He is not about to hope in a kart without any training!" I say sternly making Max laugh and Lando turn and give me a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, he can drive a car, he can drive in a few circles on a kart," Lando says but it just makes me groan and throw my head back.

Lando did end up giving Keegan a small run down before filming and once he was in the first Kart I could already feel my stomach drop. He was going as fast as his car will allow him to go but you can see the difference between Lando's control of the Kart and his control but after the first lap he was able to adjust and already looked more comfortable.

As the karts got faster the more I go stressed. Keegan was clearly having an amazing time in the karts but my anxiety is going through the roof.

By the end of the video it is clear to all of us that Keegan loved every moment of it and even asked the next time he could drive one.

When the video was posted fan instantly clung to the fact that I was like a mom to Keegan. I mean an entire compilation was made where it was every moment I made a comment, face, or gasp throughout the short video making fans across F1 laugh at the endearing moments between friends.

------

Sorry it feels a bit rushed I just loved the idea and might even circle back around in the future and add to the story

[moonsgemini]

apple pie - cowboy!rafe

summary: Rafe Cameron would have a lot of things in his life differently if he knew he’d meet an angel like you. Befriending your brother in the small town was the best and worst thing that happened to the both of you.

warnings: cowboy!rafe, brothers best friend trope, fem reader, she/her, mentions of religion but reader isn’t very religious (yeah idk either), smoking, alcohol, mutual pining, kissing, also found family you could sayyyy

an: this is inspired by feathered indians by tyler childers & my ongoing need to find a cowboy whose obsessed with me. I didn’t include topper in this bc I do not see him as a cowboy LOL y’all let me know if you want a part two. Was really feeling it at the beginning but idk if I love it.

-

Megan Maroney blasting through your headphones wasn’t enough to muffle the sound of the slamming front door and numerous loud footsteps that followed. The familiar sound of rowdy boys filling the house, then came the familiar muffled voices. It only surprised you a little because it was still early into the night.

Usually your brother and his friends came back around three in the morning from the bars, but that’s if they didn’t have work the next day. You knew they didn’t have work because your brother, Mason, had promised to take you shopping in town. You could only assume that they got into some sort of trouble. It’s the only reason why they’d be back early.

Slipping your headphones off you got up from your desk where you had been working on assignments for your summer class. Climbing down the stairs in nothing but your cut oversized tee shirt that exposed your collar bone and soft sleep shorts.

Your brother spotted you immediately, “Hey! She’s awake!” Mason exclaimed with a mouthful of the apple pie you had baked earlier. The slur in his speech giving away his intoxication.

You scoffed with a smile, “It’s only ten Mase,” you turned to the three other boys that were gathered around the kitchen table, “hi fellas.”

They greeted you with mouths full of pie. Except him. He was leaning back in his chair with a dopey grin and bloodshot eyes, his plate clean and pie long gone. You figure the other three were on their second slice.

Your gaze lingered on him like it always did. That warm feeling in your chest returned, it always did when Rafe was around. It made you feel fidgety and nervous. Like a school girl with a crush. So typical it’s on your brother’s best friend. That thought brought you out of your Rafe induced haze. You walked over to where Mason stood as he ate the last crumbs from the pie tin.

You grabbed it from him with an eye roll, “Well I’m glad you boys enjoyed that. Lucky I made two more. They’re for church tomorrow.”

“You always make the good stuff for church,” Kelce mumbled with his eyes closed blissfully savoring the dessert.

You laughed, “Maybe if y’all went you’d get a slice.”

Mason shook his head at the boys, “Why do you think I go.”

Rafe snorted, “To stare at Thea Foster actually.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and muttered, “She has a boyfriend.”

You smirked placing a hand on his shoulder, “Well I heard there’s trouble in paradise.”

He turned quickly to you bewildered, “From who? When? Why?”

Rafe, Kelce, and Jake burst out laughing. Your poor brother was so in love with a woman he couldn’t have. Rafe understood his pain, but he couldn’t let Mason know that. When the boys quieted down you answered his question, “From Sarah Ann at the nail salon yesterday. She said Thea found fake lashes in his car and then a couple weeks later she followed him because he said he had a work emergency and sure enough he was meeting some girl from the city.”

“That fucker,” Your brother seethed, “I’ll thank him then kill him and then thank him for fucking up.”

You patted his chest as you past him to grab the boys dishes, “Relax big guy.”

“Let’s celebrate with a shot,” Jake said knocking on the table excitedly.

Kelce nodded, “My buzz is wearin off.”

Rafe shrugged watching as you placed the dishes in the sink, “Sure.”

He had smoked a whole joint by himself on the way here and he was still feeling the effects. Something that he had started to regret when you walked down the stairs. He thought you’d be asleep and you wouldn’t see him high and drunk. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him like that before, but he preferred to be sober around you.

Mason poured every one shots including you. Rafe looked up at you with a mischievous smile. The floaty feeling in his head making you look like an angel. Soft bare face and comfortable clothing. He imagines you waiting at home for him dressed like that. Waiting to have dinner together after a long day. That fantasy always made his heart clench.

Mason finished pouring the glasses and began handing them out. The amber liquid sloshed onto the table since he filled them all to the brim. You’d make him clean the kitchen tomorrow.

You looked up at Rafe and found him already looking at you. Your heart raced ou held up your shot glass with the guys. Mason went on about friendship and comradery. The two of you not looking away from each other. Feeling emboldened you didn’t look away not even when you felt your blush move down your cheeks to your neck and chest.

Everyone tipped back their glasses taking the shot. The liquid burning the pit of your stomach. You scrunched your nose in disgust, “ugh I hate whiskey.”

Rafe scratched the back of his head, “I need a cig.” He walked towards the stairs heading to the office. It was the best place to get onto the roof. A spot everyone liked to go to because it looked over the whole ranch.

You pointed at the dishes in the sink, “Wash those before bed. I’m gonna finish studying then go to bed so don’t be too loud.”

“Yes ma’am,” Mason teased.

The two of you had moved to the small town a five years ago. Mason found his dream job on the ranch they live on and his boss the owner, Mr. George, let the two of you stay at one if the houses on the property. You were just grateful to leave your hometown and your parents. Your brother always felt like your only family and when he asked you to come with him you didn’t hesitate. You started community college at the next town over and got a job at the local diner. You two had built community here. Your brother befriending the other ranch hands Rafe and Jake and the local bartender Kelce who had all become more like brothers to him.

-

As you made it up the stairs you passed the office and peered in. The cool summer breeze blowing in through the open window. You stood in the doorway for a few seconds contemplating whether to go out there or not.

When you met Rafe you felt all that ooey gooey stuff you had read about in romance novels. You thought it wasn’t real because it what world would a man make you feel like that. Your faith in the male species to sweep you off your feet had completely disappeared. Until you met him. It was a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach.

It didn’t help that he looked at you the same way. Or when he would do sweet things like buy you trinkets when he went out of town. He’d give you rides if Mason couldn’t and if he was around you never had to carry anything yourself.

Rafe always wanting to be near you if you were around and making sure you’re safe. When your brother had gone out of town he texted and called all weekend making sure you were safe. He almost got in his truck and slept outside your house to make sure nothing happened but he talked himself out of that.

You were his best friend’s little sister. He loved Mason and didn’t want to do anything that would ruin that. It took Rafe so long to rebuild his life in the small town he didn’t want to ruin it by hurting you. He would lose you and your brother.

You climbed through the window to see Rafe sitting on the ledge probably on his second cigarette. You watched as he tilted his head back and exhaled.

“ain’t anyone ever told you that those things will kill you,” You said with a smirk as you walked over to sit beside him.

He shrugged with a smirk, “Never had a good reason to quit.”

You held two fingers out for him motioning for him to place one between your fingers. He shook his head with a laugh as he got one from his almost empty pack.

You brought it up to your lips as he pulled the lighter out. Rafe cupped the end of the cigarette as he lit it. Your eyes watching him the whole time. Rafe fought every fiber of his being to not look at you or else he’d throw out the damn cigarette and kiss you. You didn’t know the power you held over him. He’d cross rivers, oceans, and valleys for you without a second thought.

“I’ll come with ya to church tomorrow,” He said breaking the silence. He doesn’t even know why he just said that. Rafe has never been religious and the only times he’s thought about it were when you showed up in his life.

Now you weren’t devout or anything but when you moved here it felt like a good place to interweave yourself into the town. The move also had you feeling a little lost so you went to where people always say they find something. You’re still not sure how you feel about it but you still go when you can. Your brother started joining you after a couple weeks.

You snorted, “I’m sure you will.”

“I’m serious I’ll go,” He bumped your shoulder with his.

You smiled at him, “Okay Rafey. Then I’m gonna make sure you go because I already know that you’re stayin the night.”

He looked at her with a playful scowl, “Who said I’m stayin?”

“You’re still stoned and you’ve had more whiskey,” You shook your head, “You’re stayin.”

“Whatever you say boss,” He flicked his cigarette off the roof after finishing it.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll get you up bright and early don’t worry.”

“As long as I get some more pie tomorrow.”

“I did make you something,” You flushed a bit at your next words, “I made you those peanut butter chocolate chip cookies you like. Hid them from the guys or they’d eat em all.”

“You’re so sweet,” He admitted, “those idiots wouldn’t savor them like me.”

You laughed softly trying not to look at him or you’d burst into flames, “So true. I’ll give em to you after church tomorrow.”

“S’that my reward?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “So you better behave.”

He was feeling bold now. After your shy confession he wanted to be bold. His fingers itched to touch you, “What happens if I don’t behave?”

Your eyes widened a bit not expecting him to say something like that. Did he mean it like that? You couldn’t over think this right now. The tension in the air thick and pushing the two of you closer together.

You shrugged, “I could show you right now.” You didn’t even know what you mean by that but before you could take your words back a voice behind you two broke whatever trance the two of you were in.

“Hey! Are you just gonna let the rest of us get wasted by ourselves or what!” Mason exclaimed as he stuck his head through the window.

Rafe snorted, “I’m comin jackass.”

“I better finish my assignments.” He climbed through the window and held his hand out for you as you stepped through.

“Can I ask a favor?” You asked him. The dim lighting in the office illuminating his face in a way that made him look like a Greek God.

“Anything,” He responded and Rafe truly meant anything.

You sighed, “So after church tomorrow I wanted to go to that book store in the city and Mason is gonna take me. But I don’t really want hungover grumpy Mason to take me,” Just then you heard a thud and loud laughs downstairs.

“Well you know ho-“

Before you could even continue he was nodding his head, “I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

You beamed up at him with bright eyes and a wide smile, “Thank you Rafey. I’ll be quick too.”

He shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders starting to walk you both out of the room, “None of that you can spend the whole day lookin and I won’t care.”

You looked away as your smile grew timid and that damn blush was back. He stopped in front of your bedroom and you already missed his warmth.

“You know where to find us when you wanna have some fun scholar,” He teased lightly.

“Yeah yeah. You know where the blankets are and please make sure that if those idiots want to go home they’re good to drive.”

He mock saluted at you, “Yes ma’am.”

Rafe constantly teased you about your over protection of the group of men. Truthfully he found it endearing because no one has cared so much for him. Even if it’s lumped in with your brother. None of you had family here so it was nice that the five of you had created your own.

As you sat back at your desk you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. Honestly you never stopped but after seeing him it always amplified the thoughts. There’s nothing in this world that you wanted more than Rafe Cameron, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to act on it.

You didn’t want to ruin your relationship with your brother. He’s never been that overprotective but you had no idea how he’d be if you dated his best friend. So your fantasies of the tall cowboy remained as just that, fantasies.

-

If wrangling four six foot plus men to church would get that shocked look out of Mrs.Cramer you would have done it a long time ago. The old woman could hardly believe you got those ‘hooligans’ to come. The boys had a bit of a reputation. Not necessarily bad but they knew that if something was going on it was probably them.

Like when Jake drunkly rode a pony into the post office. Or when Mason accidentally left the pig pen open and there were thirty pigs loose in town.

The five of you were now back at your house. Rafe was waiting downstairs for you to finish changing. The other boys were drinking beer watching a baseball game. Mason was beyond grateful he didn’t have to take you anymore.

“I’m ready,” You announced while walking down the stairs. You had changed into your red boots, denim shorts, and a white tee shirt. Simple yet it had his mouth watering. Imagine what it’d be like to peel it all off. He needed to get it together.

“Be back later Mason,” You waved them goodbye before grabbing your purse. Rafe mumbled a bye as he followed after you like a puppy.

-

Not only did Rafe not complain about anything you did in the car but he also let you pick the music. He was having the time of his life. On the outside he looked concentrated on driving and completely unbothered.

“It’s right up there,” You pointed to the building coming up.

He pulled into the parking lot, “You been here before?”

“I have but it’s been a couple months.”

He parked and opened the door for you. The smile on your face making the forty five minute drive worth it.

Well forty five minutes later he was starting to get antsy. He swears he’s seen you make five circles around the fairly small book shop. He was sitting in a purple chair meant for reading. You had given him about six books and your purse to hold and you were still browsing. The only reason he was getting impatient was because he was hungry.

You walked over with two more books, “Okay now I need to narrow these down to just three.”

His brows furrowed, “Three?”

You nodded, “Tips were short this week and I had to use my savings to fix my laptop.”

He stood up holding the six books, “Come on lets go pay.”

You followed him trying to keep up with his long strides, “Uhhh did you not just hear me I can’t afford it Rafe.”

“That’s why I’m buying all of them for you,” He shrugged as if it were nothing.

“No no no,” You pulled his arm to stop him right before the counter, “You can’t do that, that’s too much.”

“You want them all right?”

“Well yeah but-“

“But nothing baby, I got you.” He turned to the counter where the cashier was waiting for the two of you to finish.

You stood behind a bit dumbfounded by not only his kindness but because of what he called you. Baby. That was new.

-

After a long day of book shopping, pizza eating, and laughing you were drained. On the way home you had fallen asleep, waking up once he turned onto the dirt road that led to your house.

You yawned, “We’re here already.”

“Yup and it looks like Mason’s not home.”

“Oh he texted me telling me he was going to a bonfire. We’re invited but I’d rather stay home.”

Rafe opened the door for you like he had been doing all day. He also held your heavy bag of books.

“Me either honestly.”

“You wanna watch a movie with me?” You asked hoping he’d say yes.

“I’d love to.”

You plopped yourself onto the couch to browse movies. Rafe set the books down on the kitchen table before joining you. Except he stood in front of you and grabbed your boot tugging it off each foot.

“Thank you Rafey,” You smiled at him.

You put on Twilight knowing he won’t care and secretly loves it. Today had been perfect. Rafe made you feel like the only person existing. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to be more than a friend and it was starting to pain you, but it was something you could live with for now.

A half hour later you had dozed off onto Rafe. Your leg draped over him and face tucked into his neck. His head leaning on yours and one hand in your hair the other around you. This was the best sleep Rafe had ever gotten. He could feel you all around him he didn’t want this to ever end.

Yet you both jolted awake when you heard the front creak open and voices following. Twilight had ended an hour ago and New Moon had started playing. You and Rafe broke a part trying to fix yourselves. A rosy tint to his cheeks as he peered over at you with a teasing smirk. You couldn’t help your blush either as you returned the mischievous smile.

“Hey you guys are back how’d it?” Mason asked as he walked into the living room with Kelce.

“It was good, got lots of new books,” You turned to Rafe with a knowing look.

“Hey is that,” Kelce pointed at something on your inner thigh. You had one leg bent so your inner thigh was facing up on display. An right on it was an impression of a long horn and some intricate designs. Everyone knew who had something that looked like that.

“How’d that get there?” Kelce asked with an amused smile as he pointed between your thigh and Rafe’s belt buckle. He burst into laughed as mason groaned.

“Guys I know y’all like have a thing for each other but I don’t wanna know that stuff,” Mason gagged.

“What Mase!” You groaned, “Nothing like that!”

Rafe laughed feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders, “Dude we fell asleep.”

“I sure hope so, not on my damn couch.”

You decided to mess with him, “Well if you insist.” You grabbed Rafe’s hand and laughed as you pulled him upstairs. He didn’t even hesitate following and also laughing.

You dragged him into your room turning so your back was to the door. Still holding your hand Rafe used the other to push the door closed. Walking you both back in the process so your back was against the closed door. One hand beside your head and the other moving from holding yours to holding your waist.

His head dipped down as your laughter died. Things suddenly felt serious and you realized how close he was and he was touching you. It felt really good.

“So uh sounds like Mason is okay with us,” Rafe murmured.

“Is that you confessing you like me?” You teased looking down at his lips.

He nodded causing your noses to brush, “Yeah I like you baby, can I make it anymore obvious.”

“Can you?”

He squeezed your waist with a smile before dipping down and finally molding his lips to yours. It was like being able to breathe for the first time. His mouth felt good against yours. He kissed you with desperation and need showing you just how long he’s wanted this. How he’s wanted it just as much as you.

Both his hands were now on your waist and traveling over your body feeling every dip and curve. The small whine you let out making him want to throw you onto your bed, but he promised himself if he ever had you he’d take his time. Savor every moment with you.

You pulled away breathless and drunk on him, “I like you too if you couldn’t tell.”

He pecked your lips, “I’ll buy you all the books you want just to hear that again.”

“I like you,” You leaned down up and kissed him again, “Now can we finish the twilight series?”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Want Some Help? | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Summary: When your boyfriend can't seem to satisfy you anymore your roommate decides to lend a helping hand. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (crackhead roommate energy) Word Count: 4.7k (got a little carried away but when don't I 😂) Warnings: Explicit language, smut and cheating. He spits in her mouth at the end lol and hella pet names. Aight that's all you're getting lol gotta read the rest to find out. a/n: This is the last thing I'll be posting before I go on a little hiatus. I'll make a post in a couple of days to explain but I'll let this circulate a bit before I do. I hope you enjoy it! (barely edited lol) Requested by a lovely anon 💜

The sounds in my room are obscene to say the least, more from Brian's side than mine today though. I don't know what it is but something about him isn't doing it for me anymore. Is it the fact that I have a new Adonis for a roommate? Perhaps, but Brian's need to overcompensate for it makes situations like these even more awkward than they need to be. 

"You like that?" he asks, him being so close to cumming with me barely working my way up to it. "Yeah" I respond breathily, trying my best to play the part so this can hopefully be over sooner rather than later. "Fuck" he groans at the sight and sound of my little gasp when he just barely hits that spot but I know he won't be able to figure out how to do it again. 

Brian isn't a selfish lover but the dynamic between us has changed ever since Jungkook moved in... 

He hasn't been as focused on me which now that I think about it is pretty damn selfish. I'm just making excuses for him at this point. He's more focused on his ego and playing it up for my roommate than he is into loving his girlfriend. I don't know how much longer I can be in this relationship if he keeps acting like this. 

"Shit I'm close, are you?" he asks and I nod my head furiously, thanking whoever might've been listening to my plea and seconds later he's cumming inside the condom and I do my best to copy the moan that I let out when he's actually done a good job at satisfying me and it seems to be convincing enough since he's giving me that cocky grin before he kisses me again. 

"You wanna shower?" he asks and I shake my head, "You go ahead, I'll shower later. Plus, didn't you say you had work early tomorrow morning? I'll let you get cleaned up in peace so you can head out" I say and he nods his head before going to the bathroom and throwing me a towel before closing the door and turning on the shower. 

Luckily he didn't try to clean me up because there's definetly not much to clean since I didn't cum.

Once I'm finished and I've made myself somewhat presentable I put on my robe and head out into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water. "Have fun?" my roommate says from the living room couch as I pass by on my way to the kitchen. "Shit Jungkook you scared me" I say, holding my hand to my chest. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Have a good time tonight?" he asks again, his eyes dragging up and down my form, lingering on my chest and when I look down I see that my nipples are very visible unbeknownst to me since I hadn't cared to think about the fact that Jungkook might've come home. 

I wrap my robe tighter around me and cross my arms as I head into the kitchen. "Yes I did thank you very much. Did you?" I spit out quickly, hoping to avoid talking about my sex life with him. "It was alright. I had a long week so I decided to turn in early but um..." he trails off as he watches Brian walk down the hallway and into the kitchen, giving Jungkook a stern look before coming over to talk to me. 

"You alright?" he asks before placing a way too intimate kiss on my lips in front of Jungkook who I see has turned his head back to the TV and isn't bothering to pay attention to the game Brian is trying to play with him. "Yeah I'm fine. Are you heading out?" I ask, very hopeful that this visit will come to an end and thankfully luck is on my side this time. 

"Yeah I gotta get going but I'll come over again soon" he says, looking over at Jungkook before giving me one last kiss and heading towards the door to put on his shoes. "Text me when you get home!" I say and he winks at me before walking out leaving me rolling my eyes once the door is shut. 

I slump against the counter, glad it's finally over and when I look back over at Jungkook he's not too interested in whatever he has playing on the TV anymore, his focus solely on me. 

"What?" I ask him, brows scrunched together and trying to figure out what his deal is. "Why'd you fake it?" he asks and I choke on my spit, caught off guard by the unfiltered question. "Excuse me?" I ask, scandalized that he had been listening enough to even catch onto something like that. 

"You probably wanted it to be over huh?" he asks, assuming what the answer was and unfortunately that was the case but I'm not letting him have the satisfaction of being right. "I don't know what you're talking about" I say, turning on the sink to fill up my cup again but before I can even pull it out from under the tap he's taking it out of my hand. 

"Hey!" I call out, trying to grab it but he holds it just out of reach. "Can't keep you satisfied anymore?" he asks raising a brow at me, a smug look on his face since it seems he can read me like a book based off of my body language alone. "He keeps me very satisfied thank you very much, not that it's any of your business" I say and reach for my cup which he thankfully relinquishes. 

"I know you're lying" he say and I cock a brow at him, not knowing how he could possibly know the truth. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" I press, placing the cup on the counter and crossing my arms over my chest, forgetting the fact that I'm completely naked under this and giving him a better view of my cleavage. 

"You're not very quiet when you do it by yourself you know. What do you use? A dildo? One of those little roses? Maybe both?" he questions leaning in closer to me and making my eyes bug out of my head. "How did yo-" "These walls are paper thin doll, so believe me when I say that I can hear every little thing you do to yourself in there. But please, don't stop. I would hate to be deprived of that pretty little voice of yours even though it is quite distracting sometimes" he says, grabbing my cup and holding it between us as a clear invitation to leave if I so desire. 

I take it and rush back to my room, slamming the door behind me and I can hear him chuckle from the kitchen. Fuck he really wasn't kidding when he said these walls are thin.

I flop down onto my bed facedown and scream into my pillow, utterly mortified that he's heard me ever since he got here. I need to wear a muzzle at this rate  since there's no way I'm stopping just for his sake. A girl's got needs and if Brian isn't going to fulfill them then I've gotta do it myself. 

I get up off my bed after I finish my little temper tantrum and change the sheets before taking my robe off and jumping in the shower to hopefully wash off all of Brian's scent. I can't stand to think about him anymore especially after what Jungkook said about him...

After finishing up my shower and drying off my hair I reach into my drawer to get my tried and true rose bud to help me out tonight. Yes he guessed right but I'll be damned if I ever let him see it.

I lay down and try to turn it on and after I've used it for a minute or two it just shuts off. "Fuck" I groan out, forgetting the fact that I had forgotten to grab new batteries for it. The TV remote has the same size batteries right? It's worth a shot to go check since I'm pretty sure he's gone to bed already. 

Walking out to the living room in my robe again I'm met with Jungkook still sitting on the couch watching the same thing he had been when I first came out here. 

I try to turn back around once I've seen him but he stops me by asking me if I needed something. "I just wanted to borrow the batteries from the remote but you're still using it so no worries" I say and try to leave but he stops me again. "I'm pretty sure I bought a new pack of batteries not too long ago" he says and I sheepishly admit I used the last of them. 

"Oh okay well here, I can just finish this up on my laptop" he says while taking the batteries out and putting them in my hand, giving me the source of my pleasure for tonight. "T-thanks" I stutter and close my finger around them as if they would disappear if I let them go. "Is everything okay?" he asks and I nod my head while walking down the hallway, not knowing that he's hot on my heels. 

"What do you need the batteries for?" he asks as we're a few feet away from my door making me jump. "Didn't know I was behind you?" he chuckles and I glare at him, hoping that'll make him back off but it does the exact opposite, causing him to smirk and glance around my room and soon notices the rosebud that I stupidly left in the middle of my bed. 

"I was right" he smirks leaving me groaning and rolling my eyes as I storm into my room, not bothering to close the door since I know he's not going to leave me alone anytime soon. 

"What? You know I'm just teasing you. You're free to do as you please doll, I'm not gonna stop you. I was even nice and paused my movie so you can have your fun too" he says, leaning against my doorframe and since he's being shameless I will too, deciding to switch the batteries out and turn it on to check but unfortunately it does the same thing and dies less than thirty seconds after I turn it on.

"Shit" I curse under my breath and he stifles his laughter by covering his mouth. "Yeah yeah laugh it up. You're just lucky all you need is your right hand to get off. Can you just leave me alone?" I ask, laying back down on my bed, exacerbated and ready to call it a night since the odds have flipped again. My good luck for the night being Brian's quick departure. 

I don't pay attention to how high my robe has ridden and it seems as though one of my legs has slipped through the gap giving him a full view of my upper thigh and hip, one wrong move leaving me exposed to him. 

He gulps but I don't bother to notice and only do when he clears his throat. "What do you want?" I say, throwing my arm over my face trying to hide the shame that all of this has caused me but fail miserably. "Want some help?" he asks and I sit up right away at his words, "What?" I ask, my reaction as dramatic as if he had grown two heads. 

"Do you want some help? I can get you off real quick if you'd like? It'll be like one roomie helping the other" he offers as causally as if he had asked to borrow five bucks. "You're joking, right?" I scoff but it seems as he very well is not as he take a step into my room and he watches for signs for protest but I give him none. 

"Not really no. I'm simply offering to help a friend in need. That's what we are right? Friends?" he questions as he takes a step closer. 

He calls out my name when I've stayed silent for a while, not being able to take my eyes off him even if I tried. As long as he stays in this room he's got my attention. "R-right, friends" I respond and he takes a seat on my bed, a respectful distance away but it feels as if he was already on top of me. 

"But Brian-" "Doesn't need to know" he says, cutting me off and making it harder and harder for me to say no. He scoots closer to me and takes the rosebud out of my hands, unbothered by what it's used for and simply places it on the nightstand next to me. "It's your move" he says, leaning closer to me, his breath fanning my face and I look at his eyes, mine going back and forth before his look down at my lips. 

"Tell me to stop" he says, making things easier for me but when he's mere millimeters away I lean in. 

It's soft and sweet at first, our lips connecting and breaking a few times, still giving me an opening to pull away and say stop but after a few more kisses like that he deepens the kiss. While keeping our lips locked for longer he angles his head a bit more, his tongue now in my mouth and soon he beckons me to do the same and I do which gives him even more of a green light. 

He places his hand on my cheek and angles me just right before he switches up and presses down on my shoulder a little and leans in closer as a silent plea for me to lay down. 

I crawl back on the bed instead and he follow as I lay down on the pillows with him hovering over me. "Fuck been thinking about this view for a long time" he admits and before I can say anything in response his lips are already on mine again.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, toying with the tie that is seconds from coming undone of it's own accord. "Yeah" I say, adrenaline pumping through my veins at the thought of doing this, of cheating with my roommate who is someone I won't be able to run away from after this.

He pulls the belt and in one smooth motion it's undone.

The way he looks at me as he takes both sides of the robe off of my body is a sight that could make me cum untouched if given the chance. Watching his eyes darken up as they roam all over my body until he's tracing them back up to mine where it's as if a whole new man is hovering over me, one that looks so insatiable and ready to break me at any moment. 

"Fuck you're so pretty" he say, leaning back down to kiss me but soon trails his lips down my neck and to the valley between my breast. He settles on kissing one of them and slowly brings his lips closer to my nipple where he looks up at me for permission which I give right away. He smirks and puts his thumb and pointer fingers into his mouth making them wet. He places them on the opposite one twisting and toying with it before he places his mouth on the one in front of him. 

Once his lips make contact my fingers immediately lace through his hair, needing to ground myself with something and he hums around in in approval when I tug on it a bit. 

"You sensitive here doll?" he asks when he lets go of it, the cool air causing a chill when it hits my damp skin, him having made a mess of it from his clear desire to do this. I let out a whimper in response and he nips at it before switching to my other breast to give it the same time and attention he gave the first.

My hips start to buck up after a couple more seconds of him switching between my breasts and lips when he hears those pretty voices he had talked about before, wanting to taste them on his tongue this time. 

"Someone's eager" he says against my lips but I turn my face to the side leaving him kissing the column of my neck until I'm squirming about leaving him smiling against my skin. 

"Does my doll want more?" he asks and I whimper in response, not being able to bring myself to utter words of confirmation when I have a man like him already causing me so much pleasure, but it's not enough. 

I need more.

"Jungkook please" I breathe out, done with this teasing and so worked up already from not gaining release earlier. "Please what?" he asks trailing his lips back up to mine and kissing them one last time before pulling back and waiting for my answer. "Please help me cum" I plead, wanting what he had promised me earlier. 

He chuckles dryly and places a kiss on the corner or my mouth before responding. "Here I am taking my time with you but you still only want one thing. Don't you like it when I play with you like this?" he asks, trailing middle finger down my torso until he's come in contact with my clit, sliding further down past it and checking to see what my true physical reactions have been to his ministrations. 

"Seems like you do" he says, circling around my entrance with that same finger when he feels how wet I am. "This all for me?" he asks and close my eyes once he's dipped one of his fingers in while using his thumb to draw circles around my clit but once my breathing picks up a bit everything stops. 

"What?" I pant, confused as to why he would stop. "I asked you a question. Is this all for me y/n?" he rasps, looking down at where his fingers had once been and cursing when he notices how wet they are. "Y-yes, all for you" I choke out and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops before I can even brush my lips against his. 

"Can you say my name princess?" he whispers, posed as a question but we both know the only way this continues is if I comply. "Jungkook" I whisper out, his name now tasting different on my tongue. It's almost if I have to put more effort into pronouncing each letter, my throat suddenly running dry. 

"Louder doll. It's the least you can do to help me forget how you've moaned his name in here time and time again. Probably another sad excuse of an act to fake your high" he says, going back to playing with my center, his finger going in and out at a faster rate now before easing his way into putting in a second one. 

"Fuck Jungkook" I groan, this time a little louder than before that grants me a kiss on my neck, his motives to stay away from my lips being to hear all of my reactions to what he's doing to me. Wanting to discover new sounds and reactions that sound more genuine and are ones that I can't even hope to hold back with the pleasure he's giving me.

"That's it, keep going. Want your voice to be the thing I remember most about this, hear it over and over again, ingrained in my memory. That way when I forget how you taste it'll be something that I'll still be able to come back to. Hearing how I make you feel, not yourself and definetly not your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, me. Let me hear how I make you feel" he rasps in my ear making me shiver and arch my back off the mattress. 

"Jungkook please, please" I beg, my ego gone, the only thoughts in my head being him and how incredible it'll feel once he's made me cum. "Just like that doll, scream my name if you need to, I don't mind" his calm cool and collected tone of voice driving me mad. How can he be whispering these things in my ear and taunting me like this while I'm a complete mess under him, barely being able to breathe let alone think straight. 

I pulse around his fingers and he can tell that I'm close when I let out a moan after he hits a certain spot, hitting it over and over again, knowing that that's going to be the thing that'll make me come undone. 

He leans back and looks down at me, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips make me insane, his calm and cool façade in my mind broken when I see the way he's watching me. Taking in every gasp, every moan, every whimper of his name and it makes him want to try even harder to get me to that high, needing to see what I look like when I cum.

"Just like that doll, you're doing so well, sound so pretty" he murmurs and with a few more words of encouragement I'm coming undone. When I try to look away he grabs my chin and makes me keep eye contact, making everything seem even more intense. 

Once the rising and falling of my chest has slowed down and his playful fingers inside me gain him whines of overstimulation he finally takes them out. 

I expect him to get up and wash his hands but instead places them in his mouth, moaning once my taste hits his tongue leaving me swallowing dryly, needing that glass of water now. 

"Open your mouth" he says after he takes his fingers out and I comply curiously, doing as he asks and the next moment I feel him spitting in my mouth before smashing his lips on mine one last time. 

After kissing me senseless and exhaustion flooding my system my kisses become sloppy and he laughs against my lips before finally pulling back. "Where are you going?" I ask and he laughs again at my groggy state. “I'm going to go get a towel to clean you up" he says and I sit up quickly, my mind slowly clearing up. 

"Wait, what about you?" I ask, taking note of the tent in his pants but he simply chuckles and brings back a warm towel just like he said.

I had expected the same treatment Brian gave me today but when I try to reach for it he pulls back. "No you lay down, you're still out of it" he says, trying to be serious but also satisfied that he only had to use his fingers put me in this state. 

After he finishes cleaning me up he gets up and throws the towel in the laundry basket and comes back to sit on the bed next to me, cupping my face and studying my features. "You okay?" he asks, clearly sensing regret already. 

"Yeah I'm fine. I just never thought I would do something like this" I admit and he mouths a quiet 'Oh' and takes his hand off me but I grab it before he can get too far. "I'm sorry I'm just confused and clearly not thinking straight" I say, trying to backtrack knowing that I've hurt him by saying that. 

"Thank you for doing this for me" I say timidly and he laughs. "What?" I ask, clearly not understanding what about this situation is funny. 

"I'm sorry" he says, his laughing soon dying down and I wait in silence until he's finally composed himself. "I'm sorry it's just that it’s not everyday that your hot roommate thanks you for finger fucking them" he chuckles and my cheeks heat up, thoroughly embarrassed now that he's put it like that.

I reach behind me and grab a pillow and throw it at his face which makes him laugh even more. "Jungkook stop this isn't funny" I whine and he stops a couple minutes later. "Alright alright I'm sorry, you were just getting way too serious about it" he explains and wipes away a fake tear. 

"This is serious! I just cheated on my boyfriend with you" I exclaim and he shakes his head, placing the pillow I threw at him out of my reach and sighs before responding. "You and I both know that you've been ready to end that relationship for a while now" he says and I open my mouth but the words die in my throat.

"That's what I thought" he says and we sit there in silence for a moment while I pull the sheet over me. "Just break up with him already, I can clearly see that you're miserable" he points out and I hate that he's right. 

"Why do you care? Should I break up with him so I can mess around with you?" I ask and he shrugs his shoulders. "We can do that if you want to, but from a friend's point of view I think your life is so much better without him" he says and I sigh, knowing again that he's right, telling me the things that I've thought about over and over again but just never did anything about. 

"I'll talk to him" I say and he nods his head. "Good because with the number I did on your neck he's definetly gonna know that something went down" he laughs and my eyes go wide, forgetting to tell him to not leave any marks but I know I'm fucked. 

"Here" he says, grabbing the hand mirror I have on my dresser and I know from one glance that hoodies and turtlenecks will be my new signature look until this all clears up.

"Jungkook" I growl and he giggles, never taking my scolding tone seriously. "What? Don't act like you didn't like it" he chuckles and I sit up, grabbing that pillow and throwing it at him again. "I hate you" I huff but he laughs again before placing a knee on my bed and making it dip under his weight. 

My breath hitches as he inches closer and I can't do anything but lay down, slowly trying to run away from his lips in my mind but falling back into that same position we had been in for who knows how long.

Once I'm flat on my back and he's hovering over me again I swallow as best as I can, making him let out a dry chuckle. "Wanna run that one by me again doll?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I press my thighs together, hating myself for doing it but needing some sort of something to keep me sane but it's of no use.

He leans in closer and I hold my breath, not knowing what he's doing or where this is going but when I close my eyes I’m granted with that same chuckle again. 

"Goodnight princess" he says against my lips, his weight gone off my bed seconds later leaving me sitting up in process. "Wha-" "My pretty doll needs to figure out who she wants to play with if she wants more" he taunts and I cross my arms and pout a little, hoping that'll get him to come back. 

"Aw don't be like that. After all the work I put in to help you feel good. I thought you would've been more grateful, not greedy" he taunts and I roll my eye before uttering a quiet 'Goodnight'. "Thanks for giving me material to help me fix this" he says, looking down at the very clear outline of his hard on and I swallow again, intimidated from finally being able to see his full size. 

"I promise, if you make up your mind...I'll make it fit" he teases and winks at me granting him a scowl in response. He grabs the door handle at the same time I grab the pillow and throw it which he blocks by closing the door. "Goodnight doll" he says one last time and shuts it behind him. 

I spend the rest of my night willing myself to sleep and when I finally start to doze off I start hearing Jungkook's soft moans and grunts leaving me wide awake again. Now I really know he wasn't lying...

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[kikidoul]

── CRIMINAL LOVE.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established+secret relationship reader is a detective while jungwon is part of the mafia ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used fingering pussy eating cum eating edging/orgasm denial . . .!? 1328 — mlist. req

note. uh, i'm not really proud of this but i'm too lazy to rewrite so i'm afraid you have to make do with this... </3 taglist. @tfwbluu

You groaned for the unknown time, stretching your arms above your head as you leaned back in your chair. You’ve spent the past three hours seated by your desk, boring holes at the sheets of papers scattered across your desk. It was a case that could risk or break your chances of getting a promotion—something you’ve been yearning for. Being a detective is not easy, especially when you have criminals who are constantly outsmarting you. 

Fuck it, I’m dealing with this tomorrow. 

Sighing, you start packing up, filing the papers into a clear folder and shut down your laptop. You were the only one left in the office, leaving you the task of shutting off the lights and air-conditioner before leaving. You headed to the basement where your car was waiting for you and you drove off, returning home. 

“...Why are you here?” You deadpanned, standing by the door frame as a familiar figure made himself at home, seated by the dining table with already cooked dishes. 

Jungwon flashed you his signature smile, his dimples showing on his round cheeks. “Why not? I got off work early and decided to surprise you. Why? Don’t you miss me?” He batted his eyelashes at you, laughing when you rolled your eyes. 

“I miss my peace and quiet. It was great having the whole house to myself. What happened anyway? Didn’t you tell me the mission will last for two weeks?” You asked as you removed your shoes, neatly placing them by the side. 

Jungwon rose from his seat, approached you to help in taking your things and placed them on the coffee table. “It finished earlier than we expected and Hyung decided to let us have a short break. But enough about me, how was your day, darling?” 

You shot him a glare. “Oh, you know, thanks to a certain someone, I had to stay behind, trying to figure out what his main goal is.” 

Humming, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your left shoulder, slightly swaying you side to side. “Sounds like you’re under lots of pressure, love. Perhaps you need to destress.” 

He coos, hands subtly snaking its way underneath your clothes, tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps formed on your body when his warm hands touched your skin. You looked over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow. 

“And what do you have in mind?” You questioned. 

The smirk Jungwon gave you was anything but harmless. His eyes twinkled with mischief, a sly smirk stretching across his face. “I’ve an idea.” 

~

“Hah—Wonie—oh fuck,” you cried out, your back arching off the bed as you gripped onto both the pillow and his hair with your hands. 

Your legs were slung over his broad shoulders, spread open for him like you were the main dish served to him on a silver platter. Your back arched off the bed at a particularly harsh suck of your clit, digging your feet onto your boyfriend’s back to ground yourself. You weren’t sure how much time had passed. It could be minutes or hours but you couldn’t care. Not when Jungwon was eating you out like there was no tomorrow. You rocked your hips against his mouth, breathless moans and whimpers fell from your lips. 

You felt the familiar ache in your stomach and how your muscles tightened. “Fuck—Wonie, please, please,” you mewled, wanting to be free from this sweet torture your boyfriend was putting you through. 

Much to your utter horror, frustration and disbelief, Jungwon moved away. He chuckled at the desperation written all over your face and just to be a tease, he rolled your puffy clit in slow circles, grinning at how your legs twitched. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t think you deserve to cum, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

His words made you sobbed out loud, tears of frustration prickled your eyes. “Why!?” 

Jungwon hums. “Because you didn’t solve the case. How about you tell me where you stopped and I’ll help you out. If you can answer me correctly, you can cum. How does that sound?” 

Your left eyebrow subtly twitched, unable to believe what he was saying. “Jungwon, I swear to god—!?”

The rest of your words died in your throat when he pushed two fingers in and you instinctively clenched down on the sudden intrusion. Your eyes rolled up at the feeling of him twisting his fingers in just the right angle, hitting the spot that made you see stars. As quick as it happened, Jungwon pulled his fingers out, eliciting a disappointed sound of protest from you. 

“First question: how far are you into your investigation?” He questioned, calm and collected while you, on the other hand, were a mess. 

It was already hard for you to process his question, especially when he thought it was a great idea to kiss your inner thighs, touching you everywhere but your poor neglected and throbbing clit. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating in anticipation when you felt his hot breath grazing against your clit, only to let out a startled yelp when he pinched your thigh. 

“Hey, I’m asking you a question, you know. What? Don’t tell me you’re already fucked out?” He mocks you, moving his fingers down to brush them against your clit, slowly spreading your folds apart and blowing hot air at it, savoring the way you squeaked. 

“Imagine how your superior will react if they were to see their brightest, smartest and intelligent detective getting defiled by the very same criminal she’s tasked to go after,” he continues, emphasizing some of his words with him moving his long, thick and slender fingers in a scissors-like movement, making your mind reeled from the delirious feeling. 

“Ngh, I—I’ve figured out—hah—your patterns, oh god,” you breathed out, gripping onto the sheets for dear life as Jungwon ducked his head to lap away at your clit, collecting your slick to spread them all over your puffy folds. 

As far as you were aware, you have been edged for the past one or two hours and all it took was for a few simple licks with his skillful tongue for you to push you over the edge. Your body shook vigorously from your orgasm, limbs twitching and spasming about as Jungwon drinks it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

You knew you were in deep trouble when you caught how Jungwon’s eyes darkened a shade. You nervously gulped, watching as he moved upwards, hands resting on both sides of your head. You felt small under his intense, unwavering gaze and you squirmed about on the sheets. A gasp left your lips when he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Looks like you disobeyed my order. I hope you’ve prepared yourself,” he warned. 

~ 

The next day, you arrived at your office feeling more exhausted than usual. It was a miracle that no one noticed how you were limping as you made your way to the pantry area. 

“(Name), how’s the progress on the investigation going?” Your superior asked, startling the lights out of you as you were in the midst of preparing a cup of coffee for yourself. 

Turning around, you plastered what you hoped was a convincing smile. “Ah, I’m almost there and I just need a little more time before I can catch them, sir.” 

Your superior nodded, pleased with your response and left you alone. You sighed, hand tracing the hickey left on your neck—concealed by a layer of makeup. 

Bzzt, bzzt. 

Feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, you pulled out the device to see it was a text message from Jungwon. Ensuring no one was nearby, you opened your conversation to see two simple messages: 

Hi love, just want to let you know that we’ll be committing a crime tonight at: XXX - XX - XXXX. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ love you

Catch me if you can, detective ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Read your post about something other than angst for Simon so I have a thought that needs to get out. Morning routine with Simon. Obviously, the man is military and has a strict routine but that all goes to shit with you. Sleeping in, lazy lunch, all that cute couples shit but with Simon.

hello! tyvm for sending this idea! cute and silly couple’s domestic fluff is sweeettt!! I hope you will enjoy this :D 💖

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple - Simon Riley*Reader

[6:00]

Simon doesn’t need an alarm, he automatically wakes up at 6 am.

Jogging is an important part of his morning routine when he’s on leave, a nice way to maintain his stamina, and to keep him from getting too loose.

“Where you... going...”

Oh, he forgets he has an unavoidable barrier, between him and his morning jog.

Simon looks down at you, clenching at the hem of his shirt. Your eyes aren’t even open, you just catch him in instinct and now refusing to let go.

“Go for a jog, you know it, love.” The calmness of morning makes him explain in a soft tone unconsciously.

“Stay... please...”

“You can hug your blåhaj first, I will be back soon, yeah?”

“You feel better than blåhaj...”

“...”

It’s too cruel for him to just leave you here, not when you choose him over that bloody shark you always squeeze against your body.

Simon secures the curtain so the room won’t be too bright after the sun fully rises, and lies back on the bed.

Your limbs immediately twine around him when you sense his figure is nearby, and scoots closer to him.

Jogging is important to keep him from getting loose... it’s a must for him to be strict with his morning routine...

The voices in his mind are gradually replaced by the little snores of yours as he drifts back to sleep.

[12:00]

“Can we eat fries for lunch?”

you yell at Simon who’s preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“No”

“WHYYYY!”

“UNHEALTHY!” He shouts back so his voice won’t get covered by the noise of the range hood.

okay then... you feel a bit disappointed, but you can’t come up with a convincing reason, so you just back to sweeping the floor.

just as you’re cleaning the last few spots, a scrumptious smell catches your attention, it’s not those chicken breast or salad or scrambled eggs that Simon deems healthier.

“Do you make fries?!” You knock open the kitchen door with excitement.

What you see is Simon sprinkling some salt and pepper on a bowl of fries, and he turns to you when you rush in like an energetic child.

“A few fries are tolerable” He shows you the bowl, and you can’t wait to reach out and take a bite on the crunchy and golden fries.

“Thank you, baby.” You press an open mouth kiss on your lover’s cheek.

“Don’t kiss me with your greasy mouth...”He growls, but you’re already leaving the kitchen, lilting an off-key song with the bowl of fries in your arms.

Simon just shakes his head and starts cleaning the countertop. If some fries can make you this happy, then fuck those healthy diets.

[18:00]

You two sitting face to face on the couch, the air is full of tension when you speak first.

“Mushroom”

“Mango”

“Oreo”

“Orange”

“Egg”

“g...”

“It’s over 2 seconds! Go take out the garbage, silly!”

“Fucking hell...”

Snickering at Simon’s loss, as he grumbles and on his way to grab the garbage, you add another star under your name to ‘the winner of the week’ sticky note that’s pasting on the fridge.

[23:00]

“Time to sleep.”

“but I want to watch this movie.”

“You can watch it tomorrow.”

“pleassee I want to watch it nowww Simonnn”

“...Fine.”

(00:00)

Simon looking at you sleeping like a log, whole body leaning on him and tangling him like an octopus, totally ignoring the wretched screaming from the movie, sighs and turns off the TV.

He leaves a night lamp for you, in case you need to get up for water during the night, and adjusts you two into a more comfortable posture.

He hears you mumbling something like donuts or maybe your favorite character, and chuckles quietly at how silly you are.

He already knew you would fall asleep during the movie, so that’s why he gave in, and time proves that his prediction’s correct since he’s looking at your serene face now.

“Goodnight.” Satisfied with you resting safe and sound in his arms, Simon plants a kiss on the top of your head and closes his eyes, hoping for a sweet dream that has you in it.

a/n: blåhaj sorry I love u I don't mean to harm u

[xazse]

OK OK SO i was thinking, if you do another part to the satosugu merman au, that you could add omegaverse elements to it! and if you don’t want to do the merman au, then you could write something for regular satosugu (or just suguru 🤭) i’m NAWT picky, i just want my men to have more a/b/o fics 😣

Warnings: A/b/o dynamics + first time writing something like this so tips are appreciated!! + cumming inside + mentions of pregnancy + merman!SatoSugu + hybrid!men x human!reader + weird anatomy

Satoru and Suguru have been acting weird, they’ve brought you little treasures from where they emerge before but now it’s an everyday thing, they’re constantly in your face asking if you like it and if you’ll put it in your nest? The hell is a nest? When you’d first ask they laughed and then all of a sudden got serious, did you honestly not know what that is?

“Different species remember guys?” You couldn’t count how many times they’ve been forgetting that you’re a human and not like them.

“Oh”

“Yeah”

You don’t mind the gifts, they always are extremely beautiful you make sure to give your thanks and each of them a little kiss on the cheek.

A few days have passed and things haven’t improved, there’s was even a moment where Suguru had snapped at you for giving Satoru an extra kiss, but Satoru was the one who insisted on it. If Suguru had asked you would have gladly given him one. When he had seen your hurt expression he profusely apologized and ushered to give you a hug.

You had brought up some more weird instances to them, but they couldn’t quite explain why they’d been acting like this. All they could describe it was a sense of needing you and needing to be near you at all times. You sometimes even slept at the beach to appease to their worries.

It was another one of those nights where the atmosphere was thick and you could already tell just by the men’s body language that they needed something.

They won’t outright say it though, they prefer when you initiate it.

You’re all relaxing on the beach halfway in the water, you’re just rambling on about your day and whatnot whilst Suguru and Satoru are struggling to not fuck you already. They hate how you can’t smell how needy they are. They hate how they can smell you and your delicious juices in between your thighs.

It’s been many weeks since you’ve all last had sex, they could only touch their sodden slits and cocks only so much until their heats had hit and they hit like a damn truck.

They had a little bit of control not to show their bad behavior around you.

Suguru is tired though, he starts pressing little kisses to the column of your neck, which in turn has Satoru touching and groping your boobs.

Those little kisses turn into deep full on hickeys, Suguru is suckling on your neck completely lost. He grabs your hands and leads them to his slit, you’re so taken aback just how wet the inside is. His cute cock is slowly coaxing itself out of its sheath, fully being exposed to the cool air and dripping precum.

Both of their breathing has picked up as they get needier and needier by the second.

Satoru tears your shirt off, ripping it down the middle, you’re about to scold him but his mouth is latching onto your nipple and sucking hardly, he’s sucking like an uncontrolled newborn infant. You know your nipples are gonna be in a ton of pain tomorrow, but you’ll let him have it right now.

They look content right now, but are getting rougher, tough hands roaming all over your body. Is this what their heat was? You could hardly recognize the sweet men who made sure to always make sure you were okay.

Suguru pulls your shorts along with your panties off your body, pleading with you to sit on his cock, ride him till he cums he begs and begs. Glancing down at Satoru you see he’s jerking his cock off, it looks like he’s literally already came on himself but won’t stop pumping his cock.

You oblige and offer to take Suguru first, maneuvering yourself you hover over his cock, he’s so fucking excited and ready, he can’t wait to be the first to pump you full of his cum.

You slowly sink yourself down on his fat length, his pretty long black hair is sticking to his face as he leans back and watches your pussy get filled with him, it’s lewd how your hole stretches to accommodate him.

“Nhgnn..” he sounds cute, a little girlish almost. When you bottom out, Suguru is drooling and becoming incoherent, this has never happened, hes not even moving signaling you to bring him to completion.

You bounce your pretty ass lightly and softly at first, grinding down on him slightly, it feels good, his cock is hot and feels snug against your walls.

Something fills you up not even thirty seconds in, you can hear the poor merman apologizing profusely, he didn’t mean to cum that quickly but he really can’t help it!

His cum feels thick and a bit more heavier inside you, you pay no mind to this. It has been a while he was backed up probably.

Satoru is still playing with his pretty cock as he watches you get Suguru off, he thinks he’s about to have his turn something startles you when you feel something swell inside of you, it hurts but there’s a slight pleasure underneath it.

They look so dewy and happy, dopy grins decorating their face at how you took Suguru’s knot and as soon as it swells down you’ll take Satoru’s.

Your cunt feels full and once again so damn good, you reach down and rub your nub, the sensations make you moan and twitch like a damn virgin.

When Suguru’s knot eventually does go down it’s Satoru’s turn, he wastes absolutely no time in fucking his cock into your already dripping pussy. He goes on and on about how pretty you’ll look with their babies and how they’ll take such good care of you. You aren’t fully understanding what they’re saying, not when you’re on the verge of passing out

[foreveia]

palentine’s day ⤨ kuroo tetsuro

⨭ genre; fluff, childhood best friends!trope, valentine’s day special!

⨭ pairing; kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 18.5k

⨭ description; kuroo suggests a “palentine’s day” when you both admit to being adults with no sense of a love life on valentine’s. that being said, obviously he becomes yours.

⨭ warnings; profanity, alcohol, suggestive dialogue

⨭ a/n; guys i made this over the course of like one day. it's literally NOT proofread at all (i am not sober rn and will do so tomorrow morning) so if ur early, deal with it. jk thank u so much for reading my bullshit on ur valentine's if ur reading this also check out 'in full bloom' aka pt 1 of my valentines gift to tumblr

edit; gave up on proofreading so if u find any mistakes. well

song i listened to writing this: 'pretty in pink' by lostboycrow

one.

JFK stands for ‘John F. Kennedy’ International Airport, but as you wait in the masses outside the pick-up zone, you can’t help thinking that it should really stand for ‘Just Fucking Kill’ yourself.

You tend to avoid the airport as much as humanly possible since TSA agents are evil and you always get lost, but today, you’re forced to be here: Kuroo’s flight lands in ten minutes, and he whined so much about the cost of an Uber to your apartment that you finally gave in and agreed to pick him up yourself.

Predictably, you’re already regretting it.

The arrivals area is a literal zoo: people standing way too close, aggressively waving handmade signs that say things like Welcome home, Papa! and Jorge & Melissa 4Ever!, and a seemingly endless stream of passengers getting on and off flights. A man in a suit shoves past you, nearly smacking you in the face with the obscenely large bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and an elderly woman parks herself directly in front of you with a luggage cart, as if she has no idea that you exist. Meanwhile, Kuroo is nowhere in sight.

Leaning back against a pillar, you sigh and clutch your coat tighter around yourself, because despite being a major international airport, JFK still hasn’t figured out how to keep the cold air from blasting in through the automatic doors. The little icon next to Kuroo’s flight says baggage claim, which means you probably have another fifteen minutes before he actually appears—maybe more, if he’s being slow (which he always is).

You pull up your messages.

(3:27 PM) y/n: hurry up tetsu: awh, miss me? 😘 y/n: keep it up and i’m leaving without u

Shoving your hands back into your coat pockets does little to restore warmth, and the irritation building in your chest isn’t helping. You should’ve just let him suffer through the Uber surge pricing. He deserves it: you’re already letting him crash at your place for the week, rent-free.

Your phone buzzes again.

(3:32 PM) tetsu: omw. don’t leave me 🥺 tetsu: remember when u were a baby and followed me everywhere?

You scoff, choosing not to dignify that text with a response.

What a bitch. It’s been years since you last saw him, ever since you moved to NYC for your PhD and he stayed in Japan to work for the JVA, but some things never change: he’s still the same guy who kept you humble your whole childhood, who was your older brother’s—and by extension, yours—sole and only friend, who was the coolest person you knew as a kid because he was in second grade and you were still a kindergartener. You grew out of it by the time you both hit middle school (though he, unfortunately, never grew out of reminding you).

And now he’s here, in your city for a full two weeks as he promotes some upcoming tournament. You guys call semi-regularly, but it really is different when he’s here in real life and in person, because you can no longer just hang up when he starts to get annoying. 

That’s when a pair of arms suddenly loop around your waist.

A startled jolt runs through you, heart seizing in your chest before the familiar scent of his overpriced department store cologne registers. Funny how smells bring back memories; he’s been using the same Armani Acqua Di Gio bottle since your undergrad years (you’re both shocked and impressed that he hasn’t finished it yet). His arms squeeze lightly, then drop away.

“Hi, babyface,” he coos, smirking.

Spinning around, you glare at him for still clinging to that dumbass childhood nickname—he overheard your parents call you that literally once, and has insisted on it ever since. He’s probably the sole person left in the world who refers to you that way, but whatever—you’ll tolerate it for two weeks.

Kuroo stands there, dragging a comically oversized suitcase behind him. Honestly, he doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him, three years ago when he and Kenma sent you off at Haneda Airport. He’s still got the same stupidly tall frame, same messy bedhead that somehow makes him look effortlessly cool instead of disheveled and gross, like it should.

But he’s older now. More… grown up. His face is leaner, more refined, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners when he smirks, as smug as always. It’s not that he’s annoyingly attractive, you tell yourself: his confidence is just so in-your-face, it’s impossible not to notice.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, crossing your arms.

He holds up a paper cup from some overpriced coffee joint inside the airport. “In my defense, I needed this. Been up since three in the morning.”

“Oh, poor you.” You roll your eyes. “Let’s just go. I’m sick of this crowd.”

“You Kozumes are all the same,” he grins, but when you turn to lead the way, he swings an arm around your shoulders with easy familiarity, guiding you through the herd of people clamoring for their reunions. The crush of bodies is suffocating—someone smacks into your elbow with a backpack, and you shoot them a dirty look. Kuroo just laughs and steers you closer to him, like he’s shielding you from a crowd of middle schoolers who haven’t learned personal space.

“Where’re you parked?” he asks, glancing around. The overhead speakers crackle as an announcement for a flight to Chicago booms through the terminal.

“Garage 4,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “It’s, like, a mile from here, so get ready to hike.”

“Sounds like fun,” he drawls. “Can’t wait.”

A scoff slips out, but the tug at the corner of your mouth betrays you—there’s something about him that makes you nostalgic for days when running around after him and your brother was your favorite activity. You guess old habits die hard; he still reaches back when you fall behind, still makes sure you’re not lost in the crowd.

When you finally reach the elevator, the two of you squeeze in with half a dozen other travelers plus an extremely disgruntled-looking airport employee. Kuroo tries to maneuver his luggage behind him without bumping everyone’s ankles, which, of course, is a losing battle.

“Sorry,” you mutter to the group while jabbing the button for the garage level.

The elevator lurches upward. From the corner of your eye, you catch Kuroo’s sideways grin.

“What’re you staring at?” you ask after a moment, realizing his gaze is fixed on you.

His lips twitch. “You. I haven’t seen you in forever, remember? Trying to see what’s changed.”

You resist the urge to smack him because this space is way too cramped for violence. “What’s changed is that I have zero tolerance for your bullshit now.”

He lets out a loud laugh, drawing a few curious glances from the other passengers that should make him feel more embarrassed than it does. “Sure, you do,” he murmurs, leaning in. “That’s why you came to pick me up, right?”

“I should’ve let you take the subway. You’re lucky I’m so kind and benevolent.”

Unfazed, he grins. “I’m very lucky,” he agrees, voice dropping an octave that sends a weird heat through your cheeks.

Thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, saving you from having to come up with a retort.

Stepping into the parking garage, the cold air slams into you instantly—JFK has no business being this miserable in February. Tucking your chin deeper into your coat, you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the wind.

Kuroo whistles low under his breath, dragging his suitcase along the pavement with a clatter. “Damn. This city really doesn’t give a shit about warmth, huh?”

“Welcome to New York,” you deadpan. “Now shut up and walk faster before I lose feeling in my fingers.”

He chuckles, shoving one hand into his coat pocket while gripping his suitcase handle with the other. You can hear the low hum of an airplane overhead, the distant honking of taxis below, the way his footsteps fall in sync with yours. It’s strange—how easily he slots back in, like no time has passed at all.

Your car is parked at the far end of the lot, tucked between an SUV and a sedan that’s way too close to the line. “There,” you say, pointing.

Kuroo groans. “You weren’t kidding about the hike.”

You ignore him, fishing your keys from your pocket as you approach the driver’s side. “Just get in, princess. Your chariot awaits.”

He snorts but doesn’t argue, tossing his suitcase into the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. The moment you settle in behind the wheel, you blast the heater, letting the warmth seep back into your body. Kuroo exhales in exaggerated pleasure.

“Ah, yes,” he sighs, holding his hands up to the vents. “This is the hospitality I deserve.”

You shoot him a look as you adjust the side mirrors. “Buckle your seatbelt. I wanna go.”

“So eager to get me home already? At least buy me dinner first.”

“Get out.”

Kuroo smirks, clicking his seatbelt into place. “Not a chance—you’re stuck with me now, babyface.”

And you just sigh and kick your car into gear, promptly backing up and heading out of the maze of a parking lot, because even if you were to argue, it would be a lie. You’ve been stuck with him for almost two decades, and whether for better or for worse (definitely for worse), you don’t see that changing anytime soon.

two.

Your apartment building’s leasing office has plastered pink and red hearts on just about every open space in the hallway, so it’s safe to say that you’re slightly annoyed as you lug Kuroo’s freakishly huge suitcase to the door of your flat. The wheels squeak in protest, and you’re 99% sure you hear something clanking around inside—like maybe he’s sneaking free weights in there, or some equally ridiculous item you’re going to have to store somewhere in your already-cramped closet.

“Seriously,” you grumble, pausing to readjust your grip, “what did you pack? An entire gym? A small car? Did you kidnap Bokuto or something?”

Kuroo, trailing behind you with his coffee cup that’s somehow still not finished yet, lets out an overdramatic groan. “Oh, come on. I need my suits, my shoes, and, of course, my extremely heavy hair-care products. Gotta keep this—” he gestures at the bedhead that somehow counts as a hairstyle for him “—looking flawless for the cameras.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo replies, stepping around a giant pink heart taped to the floor. “You love me anyway.”

You roll your eyes, key in hand as you finally reach your door. Jamming the key into the lock and wriggling it furiously, you mutter, “I can’t believe I’m letting you stay with me. Your fancy JVA job couldn’t get you a hotel?”

“They could, but the Marriott doesn’t have you,” he says proudly as you drag the suitcase over the threshold and inside your apartment, propping the door open with your hip. “I’d rather stay with my darling friend in her little one-bedroom place on the Upper East Side.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again—half because you’re exhausted, half because your heart is doing that annoying stutter-step in your chest, and you really don’t want to analyze why. Instead, you drop your keys on the small side table by the door and flick on the overhead light.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, and the words come out more begrudging than you intend. Despite this, he kicks off his shoes very casually, setting his half-empty coffee on your kitchen counter and taking a quick scan of the place. Inside, your apartment is as cozy as ever—small, but comfortable, and the warmth from your radiator is a welcome contrast to the drafty hallway. You drop the suitcase in the living area, exhaling with relief.

He smirks, reaching out to flick one of the pink paper hearts taped to your kitchen cabinet. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of love.”

“The leasing office gets way too into seasonal themes. They gave us all these cut-out hearts to tape up, like we’re in grade school,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I figured it was better to play along than have them slip passive-aggressive notes under my door.”

“Ah, yes, the joys of city living,” he intones. He peels one heart off the cabinet and sticks it onto his own chest like a ridiculous badge. How appropriate.

“The bathroom’s down the hall to the right. Towels are in the cabinet.” You pause momentarily, considering. “Do you think you can fit on the couch?”

Kuroo regards the couch in question—lumpy cushions, old springs, barely big enough for someone your size—then flicks his eyes to you, expression dry as if to say obviously not. In truth, you aren’t totally surprised. He’s always been freakishly tall, and the piece of furniture doubling as your “guest bed” is basically a glorified loveseat.

“Uh,” you say, slightly distracted as you take in the way his broad shoulders fill your kitchen, “maybe if you sleep diagonally, you could?”

He gives you a slow, sarcastic clap. “Wow, babyface. Thank you for that helpful geometry lesson.”

Your cheeks warm, partly in annoyance and partly because something about him looking so large in your space sets your nerves on edge. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” you mumble. “Unless you wanna sleep standing up against the wall.”

Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not exactly comfortable, either.”

You throw up your hands. “Then what do you expect me to do? I only have a full-sized bed in my room, and that’s barely big enough for—” You stop yourself, but it’s too late. You can practically see the grin forming on his lips.

“Oh?” He shifts his weight, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “I don’t mind sharing. We used to all the time.”

You open your mouth to retort, but no sound comes out. You can’t deny that a part of you has already considered this possibility. Sure, you’ve known him forever, but the last time you shared a bed, Kenma was also there, and you were eleven-years-old having a sleepover because you were all way too invested in Monsters, Inc.—very different from sharing a bed with him now. 

“Tetsu,” you start, forcing yourself to sound composed, “my bed is also a tight squeeze. There’s no guarantee we’ll both fit comfortably.”

Kuroo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not picky. I can do my best to take up minimal space.”

You snort. “You? Minimizing anything? Please.”

He laughs, and the rich sound echoes in your small living area. “I’m not that tall.”

“Pretty close,” you counter. “But fine.” You exhale, feeling the weight of two weeks’ worth of future awkwardness settle on your shoulders. “If you promise not to kick me in your sleep, you can share the bed.”

He smiles with infuriating smugness, like he’s won some big debate or secured a massive deal. “Noted. No kicking, no thrashing. I can be a good boy when I need to.”

At that, you turn away and take a sip of your water, because if you let yourself stare at him any longer, you’ll start overthinking everything (you already are). Like how you’re going to handle waking up next to him. Or how it’ll feel if one of you accidentally rolls over onto the other in the middle of the night. 

“Go shower. You reek,” you say instead, tersely and very much avoiding eye contact. 

Kuroo salutes you with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.” He starts unzipping his massive suitcase, rummaging around for clothes. When he locates what looks like sleepwear, he straightens and tosses them over one arm. “I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep before I get back.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, heart still fluttering at the reality of what you’ve just agreed to. 

You’re about to share a bed with your old friend—your insufferable old friend, who shows up with enough luggage to stock a small department store, calls you babyface, and then makes your heartbeat skip whenever he so much as looks at you a certain way.

So in other words, you think you’re probably fucked.

three.

He emerges from the bathroom a little while later, hair damp, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and basketball shorts that show off way too much of his long legs. You pretend you don’t notice. In the meantime, you’ve perched on the edge of your bed—both of your bed, you remind yourself, trying not to linger on that detail—flipping through your phone for the best takeout options.

“You hungry?” you ask, keeping your voice casual. “I’m too tired to cook.”

Kuroo sets his towel on the back of a chair and rubs at his damp hair a final time. “Absolutely. I owe you for picking me up anyway. Let me buy dinner.”

“Deal,” you say, pulling up a nearby Mexican joint’s online menu—you can almost taste the cilantro and lime already. “I vote burritos. Guac and chips on the side. Whaddya think?”

He moves to sit beside you on the mattress, leaning in to read the menu on your phone. Your shoulders nearly brush, and you feel a flicker of awareness at the close proximity. 

“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’m a sucker for a good burrito. Extra beans, though, or it’s not worth it.”

You snort, tapping in your order. “Fine. But don’t complain if you regret it later.”

He laughs proudly. “I have no regrets. Order some chips and salsa, too.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you finalize your selections on the app. “Fried plantains or no? They have them here.”

“Absolutely. Throw ‘em in.”

Satisfied, you place the order. “Alright, burritos en route. They said it’ll be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

Kuroo drops onto his back for a moment, groaning dramatically into one of your pillows. “I might not last that long.”

“Quit being dramatic or I’ll eat your half when it arrives.”

He pops back up, smirking. “You’d miss me if I starved to death.”

“Sure,” you say dryly, setting your phone aside and hugging your knees to your chest, getting comfortable. “Anyway, what’s been up with you lately? Aside from the glorious JVA life. You haven’t actually told me much.”

Kuroo shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, humming nonchalantly. “Mostly traveling, setting up events. Lately it’s been a lot of PR for an upcoming international tournament—making sponsor deals, meeting with potential partners, that sort of thing. It’s never-ending.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, and mean it. “But you seem to thrive on that chaos.”

He smiles. “I like keeping busy, yeah. What about you? Kenma mentioned something about you publishing an article in a big journal.”

A self-conscious warmth settles in your chest. “It’s not that big,” you insist. “Just a decent academic journal. But yeah, I’m pretty proud. Trying to balance that with my research duties and teaching labs at university is… a lot.”

He bumps your shoulder gently with his own. “Still, that’s impressive. Your parents must be bragging left and right.”

You exhale, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They are. Kenma, too, apparently.”

“He’s proud,” Kuroo confirms, then yawns. “Man, I’m wiped. But I gotta stay conscious long enough to demolish this burrito.”

As if on cue, there’s a buzz from your phone. You glance down to see a delivery notification: Your order is arriving soon.

“Perfect,” you murmur. “I’ll grab it in a minute. Might as well eat in here—it’s more comfortable than the couch.”

He grins, reaching to grab his wallet from his bag and handing you a few twenty-dollar bills. “I’m not opposed to an in-bed picnic.”

A few minutes later, you’re answering the knock at your door. Your hallway briefly fills with the mouthwatering scent of fresh tortillas and spices; you’re only realising now that this is practically the only thing you’ve had all day. Once you pay the delivery person, you lug the paper bag back to the bedroom. Kuroo shifts to sit cross-legged, making space for the containers between you.

“Dig in,” he says, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You unwrap your burrito, steam curling upward, and suddenly you’re reminded of all those nights you spent eating junk food with him and Kenma back in Tokyo—late-night convenience store runs, microwaved meals shared on the couch while you watched random movies. It feels oddly nostalgic; you almost want to put on Shrek 2 (the best one) just for the sake of it.

“Mm,” you manage around a mouthful of seasoned rice and beans. “That’s gas.”

Kuroo tears into his own burrito, letting out a satisfied hum. “New York burritos aren’t half bad. Who knew?”

You smirk. “They’re still not exactly authentic, but they’re decent. We have some good Mexican places nearby—if you stick around long enough, I’ll take you to this hole-in-the-wall joint in Queens that’s even better.”

He perks up. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.” Then he gestures at one of the pink hearts still taped to your wall. “Speaking of good times, we got Valentine’s Day coming up, right?”

You pause, taking a sip of your soda to stall, humming. “Yeah, next week. Not exactly my favorite holiday.”

“You doing anything?” he asks, fishing out a chip to scoop some guacamole.

You shrug, eyes fixed on your burrito. “No. I’m, uh… single. So it’ll just be another Tuesday for me. Maybe a glass of wine and some Netflix.”

He nods slowly, as if absorbing that information. “Right. Me too, actually. Single, I mean.”

You hazard a glance at him. “Really? I figured you’d have someone lined up,” you tease, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re always bragging about how charming you are.”

He snorts, looking faintly amused. “No takers at the moment, guess I gotta step up my game.” Then he sets his burrito down, brushing stray bits of rice from his fingers. “Honestly, though, I’m not looking to date just anybody. I’m picky.”

The confession sends a flicker of warmth through you. Don’t read into it, you warn yourself. “Well, guess that means we’ll both be alone on V-Day.”

Kuroo’s face brightens with an idea. “Doesn’t have to be alone-alone. We should hang out! Watch a movie, go ice-skating, corny shit like that. We’re in New York City, after all.”

Your stomach does a little flip, and you hope he can’t see the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. “You want to hang out with me on Valentine’s Day?”

He shrugs, looking casual, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “Why not? Better than moping around separately. We can do the whole anti-Valentine’s vibe. Or, y’know, a Palentine’s Day.”

“Palentine’s Day,” you echo, rolling the phrase around. Part of you wants to jump at the chance, but you’re also cautious—because this is Kuroo. Kuroo, who’s seen you when you were still climbing into Kenma’s bed every time you had a nightmare. Kuroo, who carried you home on his back when you twisted your ankle playing tag at the park. Kuroo, who knows about every embarrassing photo of you in your entire house and is featured in practically half of them. 

Kuroo, who was your first childhood crush, who took you to your senior year formal, who still makes your heart stutter like no one else.

Jesus fuck.

“Sure,” you say at last, trying to sound nonchalant. “That could be fun. As long as you’re not too busy with your JVA stuff.”

He offers a crooked grin, the one that always makes your pulse pick up. “I’ll make time. Promise.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of wrappers crinkling and the hum of traffic outside. You focus on your burrito, but every so often, you peek at him from the corner of your eye—how his long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheekbones, how he smirks just before taking another bite.

When you finally polish off the last of your dinner, you exhale in satisfaction, leaning back against the headboard. Kuroo does the same, patting his stomach. “That really hit the spot,” he says. “Might have to get seconds tomorrow.”

“We can’t keep eating like this,” you tease, crumpling up your napkin. “We’ll both end up broke, living off takeout.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Worse ways to go, babyface.”

You give him a mock glare, but you can’t hide your faint grin. Babyface. Somehow, it doesn’t annoy you the way it used to. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, you think, or maybe you’re just too used to it by now.

“Anyway,” he adds, glancing at the clock on his phone, “you ready to crash? ‘Cause I’m about to pass out any second.”

A twinge of nervous excitement flutters in your chest. You’d momentarily forgotten the whole bed situation. You clear your throat, stacking up the empty takeout containers so you can toss them. “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s clean this up, then… bed.”

He nods, stretching his arms overhead. His shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of toned abdomen, and you quickly look away, pretending to focus on tidying up. Two weeks, you remind yourself. He’ll only be here for two weeks, and then things go back to normal—whatever normal means when it comes to the two of you.

But for now, as you glance up to see him smiling at you—fond, amused, and something else you can’t quite name—you have the strangest feeling that nothing about this trip will be normal. And you’re not sure if that terrifies you or thrills you.

Considering it’s Kuroo, the answer is probably both.

four.

As it turns out, Kuroo lied about being a supposed ‘good boy’, because he grabs just about everything in his sleep, including your comforter, your pillow, and you.

The first thing you notice upon waking is that your arm is asleep—completely, pins-and-needles numb. The second thing you notice is that it’s probably because Kuroo is draped all over you like an overgrown cat: one arm slung across your waist, a leg hooking over yours, and his face half-buried in the pillow you share.

It’s still early. The faint gray glow of dawn filters through your curtains, and the radiator in the corner hisses quietly, pushing lukewarm air into the room. You try to move—gently, so you don’t jostle him too much—but his grip tightens reflexively, pulling you closer.

Your pulse hammers a little faster. Not exactly the start to the morning you pictured when you offered to share a bed. Hesitantly, you lay there, blinking sleep from your eyes as you let the situation sink in. On one hand, he’s so much warmer than the drafty air swirling around you. On the other… well, this is Kuroo.  

He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. You can’t help noticing how his dark hair flops forward onto his forehead, or how his breathing sounds steady, almost comforting against your ear. A little flutter stirs in your chest, and you decide it’s definitely the awkwardness. Or maybe hunger. Definitely not anything else.

You inch your free arm over to nudge him carefully in the side. “Hey,” you whisper, cringing at how scratchy your morning voice sounds, “mind letting me breathe?”

He stirs again, blinking blearily. When he opens his eyes, for a split second, he looks adorably confused—like he’s forgotten where he is. Then the realization dawns, and a slow, smug grin spreads across his face.

“Mornin’,” he drawls, voice husky from sleep. And he still doesn’t move his arm.

You clear your throat, refusing to let your face heat up too obviously. “Care to explain why you’re suffocating me?”

“Am I?” he says, sounding wholly unrepentant. “Sorry, babyface. Didn’t realize you were so delicate.”

Rolling your eyes, you lift your numb arm and give him another nudge. “At least release my limbs so I can feel them again.”

He finally relents, scooting back a few inches but still remaining obnoxiously close, the mattress dipping under his weight. You sit up, wincing at the twinge in your shoulder, and rub at the pins-and-needles sensation. Meanwhile, Kuroo stretches luxuriously, arms overhead, shirt riding up just a fraction.

“Not a bad night’s sleep,�� he remarks, yawning. “This bed’s cozier than it looks.”

“No thanks to you,” you grumble, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, you can’t quite suppress a tiny shiver at the morning chill. “Next time, keep your limbs to yourself.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you make a great pillow,” he counters, smirking.

Before you can toss a pillow at him in retaliation, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach over, scanning the screen: a news alert and an email from your department. With a sigh, you set it aside for now.

You flick your gaze back to him, noticing how the sunlight is slowly brightening the angles of his face. “What’s your schedule like today?” you ask, if only to give yourself something normal to focus on.

He scrubs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair—somehow, it still looks frustratingly cool—and shrugs. “Meeting at noon with the local organizers. Press conference in the late afternoon. After that, I’m free.”

“Alright,” you say, pushing yourself off the bed. “I have a lab to teach at eleven, so I’ll be gone most of the morning and early afternoon. I’ll give you a spare key in case you need to step out while I’m gone—just don’t get lost.”

“Aw, you’re giving me a key to your place?” His grin turns positively wolfish. “This relationship is moving so fast.”

You scowl, but the corners of your mouth twitch. “Shut up,” you say, grabbing a sweatshirt from a nearby chair and tugging it on. “I’ll make coffee, then we can figure out breakfast.”

Behind you, you hear the creak of the bed as Kuroo stands. “Coffee sounds great,” he says, padding after you. “But only if you have the good stuff. None of that cheap instant brand.”

He catches up to you in the hallway, and for a moment, you’re hyper aware of how tall he is, how his eyes are still a bit sleepy, how your bedhead probably resembles a hedgehog. Yet, there’s a comforting ease in the way he fits into your space—like he’s been here a hundred times before, even though it’s been years since you last lived in the same city.

You toss him a lazy glare over your shoulder. “You’re lucky I still have some leftover beans from when Kenma visited. Otherwise, you’d be stuck with the dreaded instant.”

Kuroo feigns a dramatic shudder, but his grin stays easy. As you flick on the kitchen lights, he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. It strikes you again how right he looks here, in your cramped little kitchen, sporting wrinkled sleep clothes and bed hair you’d tease him about if he didn’t look so… comfortable.

“By the way,” he says, voice lower, still thick with morning grogginess. “Thanks for letting me crash here. And, y’know… for not kicking me out of bed for being grabby.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you say, ignoring the warmth creeping into your cheeks as you fill the kettle with water. “Tonight, you stick to your side, got it?”

“Scout’s honor.” He raises three fingers in a mock salute, the picture of insincerity.

You roll your eyes and turn on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. He shuffles a little closer, peering at the kettle. He’s definitely invading your personal space again, but maybe you’re starting to get used to it, if the jump in your heartbeat is anything to go by.

It’s a strange, domestic moment: you, still half-asleep, and Kuroo, leaning in with his arms caging you in, braced on the kitchen counter, with the faint hum of traffic outside. Despite the tingle in your arm and the slight ache in your stiff neck, you realize you don’t hate the idea of waking up like this. For once, you’re not quite as alone in the big city, you justify to yourself. 

He meets your gaze, one brow raised. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, dropping your eyes to the kettle. “Just that the coffee needs to hurry up or I’m gonna be late.”

He chuckles, the soft rumble filling the space. “Sure, sure.”

But he doesn’t push, just stays close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. And for now—just this once—you decide to let it be.

five.

Kuroo looks unfairly good in a suit.

You realise this while you’re curled up on your couch, half-watching the new season of Single’s Inferno on your TV and half-dozing off with a bowl of stale popcorn balanced on your lap. The door swings open without so much as a warning knock—typical—and then there he is, in all his post-press-conference glory: crisp blazer, tailored trousers, tie loosened just enough to give off a casual but effortlessly hot vibe.

Your stomach does a funny little flip. It’s probably the stale popcorn.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door behind him with a nudge of his shoulder. “You look cozy.”

“I am cozy,” you huff, wriggling deeper into your throw blanket. You drop a piece of popcorn into your mouth and make a face when it crunches unpleasantly. “You look… fancy.”

He glances down at his outfit, as if he’s just remembered it exists. “Right. Forgot I was still wearing this.” A small smirk crosses his face. “Didn’t want to keep the fans waiting, so I came straight from the conference.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure your admirers really appreciated that.”

“Jealous?” he teases, toeing off his polished dress shoes. His shirt collar gapes slightly as he unbuttons the top, revealing a sliver of skin at his throat. Annoyingly distracting, even after all these years.

You pointedly look back at the TV, where two contestants are locked in a tense conversation about who picked whom for a date. “Not even remotely.”

“Ouch,” he says, sounding mock-offended. “And here I was, about to tell you that I saved you some fancy hors d’oeuvres from the event. But if you’re not interested—”

You sit up immediately, dislodging your popcorn bowl. “Wait. Real food?”

Kuroo snickers, pulling a napkin-wrapped bundle from his pocket. He tosses it onto the coffee table with a flourish. “Straight from the VIP section. Mini sliders and some kind of salmon tartare thing.”

You snatch it up without hesitation, peeling back the napkin to inspect the offerings. “See, this is why I tolerate you.”

“Tolerate?” He feigns a dramatic gasp. “Babyface, we’ve been through too much for that kind of slander.”

You grunt, already stuffing a mini slider into your mouth. “I don’t know. If I remember correctly, you used to tie my shoelaces together and push me into Kenma just to watch me trip.”

Kuroo grins, unbothered. “Building character.”

“Being an ass.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” he singsongs, shrugging out of his blazer. As he drapes it over the back of the couch and rolls up his sleeves, you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying not to be obvious about it. 

Because it’s unfair, really. He’s always been annoyingly attractive, but there’s something different about seeing him like this—sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loose, like he’s caught between polished professionalism and the boy you used to know.

Kuroo flops down next to you, stretching out his long legs. “You know,” he muses, “you’re getting a little too comfortable trash-talking your own husband.”

You freeze mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

His smirk widens. “Our wedding? First grade? Ring any bells?”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach flutters treacherously. “Oh my god, not this again.”

“Oh, yes, this again.” He props his chin on his hand, clearly reveling in your reaction. “It was a beautiful ceremony. You wore that little yellow dress with the flowers on it, I looked dashing in my Spider-Man t-shirt, and Kenma officiated with a Pokémon book instead of a Bible. Very classy.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up napkin at him. “It was a fake wedding.”

“That’s not what you said at the time,” he counters, smug. “You said we’d be married forever.”

You glare at him, but warmth is creeping into your cheeks. “I was six.”

“And yet,” he hums, leaning back against the couch, “you still haven’t divorced me.”

You want to argue. You really do. But the memory of that afternoon—standing in your backyard, clutching a dandelion bouquet while Kuroo grinned at you with all the unearned confidence of an eight-year-old—unfolds so vividly in your mind that you go momentarily speechless.

It’s stupid how much of that day you remember. How he laced his fingers with yours, grinning like he had just won something. How Kenma droned through a “ceremony” while barely looking up from his Game Boy. How, when it was over, Kuroo had squeezed your hand and whispered, Guess that means you’re stuck with me now, huh?

He’d been right, even if you both did eventually grow up and start dating around. And yet, as you sit here—knees almost touching on your too-small couch, the memory of that dandelion bouquet and his smug, gap-toothed grin dangling in the air—you realize there’s a piece of you that never truly left that backyard.

You swallow the last bit of the mini-slider, hoping it’ll ground you. “So,” you say, feigning a dismissive shrug, “we grew up. We definitely child-broke-up.”

Kuroo’s dark eyes glint with amusement as he shifts his weight, the couch cushions dipping under his long frame. “Mm, I don’t recall signing any annulment papers. Actually, I can’t recall you ever giving me back my ring.” He holds up his left hand to wriggle his empty ring finger. “I guess I should’ve at least invested in a proper Band-Aid ring for you.”

You make a face, ignoring how your heart lurches at the implied you he keeps tossing out, like he’s reminding you this is your story—both of yours. “Band-Aid ring, huh? How romantic. You really know how to woo a girl.”

“You always did love Pokémon bandages. Remember how you insisted on Bulbasaur for every scrape?” There’s an unmistakable fondness in his tone, and you wonder if he’s indulging in the same wave of nostalgia that’s been drowning you since you let him through the door.

Trying not to give yourself away, you tilt your head, pretending to examine him. “I see your memory is as annoyingly perfect as ever.”

He flashes a grin. “I have an eye for important details—like your shoe size, your favorite weird pizza topping combo, and the fact that you still haven’t actually denied liking me.”

You snort, heat creeping up your neck. “In your dreams, Tetsu. Where do you get off assuming things, anyway?”

He spreads his hands, tie swaying lightly at his chest. “Can you blame me? You did let me crash at your place. You drove all the way to JFK in rush-hour traffic just to pick me up. If that’s not love, I’m not sure what is.”

You open your mouth to argue but close it again when you realize you’ve got nothing. Yes, you did pick him up. Yes, you did offer him half your bed. And yes, some traitorous part of you is glad he’s here, sprawled out in your living room, reminding you of all the reasons you used to practically worship him when you were a kid.

“You’re insufferable,” you say finally, in a voice so soft it barely carries any bite.

Kuroo chuckles, shifting so he’s angled toward you—elbow braced on the back of the couch, one long leg tucked underneath the other. “Goes both ways, babyface. You’ve always driven me insane.”

The word always lingers in the space between you.

You try to distract yourself by flicking the TV volume higher, but the dating show is a blur. “So how was the press conference?” you ask, setting the empty napkin aside. “Any major breakthroughs? More sponsors falling for your cheesy grin?”

His responding laugh is short, a bit self-conscious. “You know how it is: they ask the same questions—how the tournament’s being organized, who our top competitors are. I say the same rehearsed lines. Then I shake some hands and get out.”

“Bet you loved the attention, though,” you tease, nudging his ankle with your foot.

“Of course,” he deadpans, “you know me too well.”

A quiet pause descends as you both sink further into the cushions. The overhead lamp is dim, casting long shadows on the walls. It feels intimate—too intimate, almost. A far cry from the raucous energy of the press conference he must’ve attended.

“Do you…” You’re not sure why you’re hesitating. Maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability creeping in at the edges of your rib cage. “Do you ever miss being a kid? Everything felt simpler back then.”

His gaze settles on you, something soft reflecting in his eyes. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” He reaches out—hesitates for a second—then pokes the side of your thigh. “But I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

Your breath catches. “Like what?”

A beat. Then: “Like you still call me out on my bullshit. You’ll still eat half my food if given the chance. You still follow your own weird rules—like never paying for Netflix because you say you can mooch off Kenma forever.” He grins. “And you still look at me the same way. Even if you won’t admit it.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you’re too caught off guard to pry. Look at him the same way—what does that mean, exactly? You’re suddenly hyperaware of how close he is, how he’s studying you in the dim light, how the old tether between you two has always refused to snap, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Anyway,” he says, shifting back with a little exhale, “got any more of that stale popcorn? I’m starving.”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound frazzled. “Go for it, but don’t complain when it tastes like cardboard.”

He leans over, snagging the bowl from the couch cushion and taking a bite. “Mmm, delicious cardboard.”

His faux-enthusiasm makes you roll your eyes—again. But there’s a familiar warmth curling in your stomach, almost like relief that this little moment is yours to share. Like you’ve both come home, just for a second, to the world you used to know.

You let the show drone on in the background while the two of you work through the stale popcorn in comfortable silence. Every now and then, one of you drops a sarcastic remark or a joke about the contestants on-screen. But beneath the banter, there’s something else stirring—a question you’re not sure either of you is ready to ask.

For now, you settle for glancing sideways at him, at the way his profile looks against the glow of the TV. You let yourself wonder, just briefly, what it would mean to take that childhood promise seriously again. And though you push the thought away almost as quickly as it comes, there’s no denying the giddy little thrill that runs through you when you realize Kuroo might be thinking the exact same thing.

six.

Three days later, it’s the weekend, and you’re free of labs and classes. So obviously, that’s the night Kuroo manages to wheedle you into going to one of his PR parties—with obviously, a Valentine’s theme because the entity in the sky hates you. 

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this,” you say in slight disbelief as you wait in the lobby of your apartment for your Lyft. You’re just the slightest bit wine tipsy already and are stumbling a tad bit on your three-inch heels. Kuroo stabilises you with an arm, pulling you into him. 

“You’re such a lightweight,” he says, amused. 

You scowl at him, nudging your heel against the toe of his polished dress shoe. “Says the guy who made me do a round of shots before we even left.”

Kuroo lifts his free hand in mock surrender, though the grin playing on his lips betrays zero remorse. “Hey, I never forced anything. You’re the one who decided it’d be a good idea to keep up with me.”

“You can probably metabolize alcohol through sheer arrogance alone,” you mutter, leaning into him a bit more when your heel wobbles on the slick tile. The building’s lobby has a floor so shiny you can see your own reflection. You catch sight of how red your cheeks look—definitely from the wine.

He snorts, sliding his arm more securely around your waist. “Arrogance is a powerful superpower.”

Before you can retort, the Lyft driver texts that they’ve arrived, and you and Kuroo shuffle through the lobby’s sliding doors. The crisp February air slaps you in the face, clearing some of the pinot-fueled haze from your head.

“God,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk up to the waiting car. “Why does it feel like it’s negative a thousand degrees out here?”

Kuroo hums sympathetically, tugging you close so you can huddle in his warmth. “Isn’t it romantic? Attending a Valentine’s party in frigid weather, half-tipsy, with your beloved husband—”

You jab him in the ribs. “Do. Not. Start.”

“Ow.” He laughs, not sounding at all wounded, and opens the car door for you. “Alright, princess, let’s get you warmed up.”

You slide into the backseat, tucking your purse by your feet. Kuroo follows, closing the door. The car smells faintly of peppermint and some floral air freshener, and the driver has a local pop station on low volume.

“Party tonight, huh?” the driver says, catching a glimpse of your outfits in the rearview mirror. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”

You force a polite smile. “Yeah, it’s a work thing for… him.” You gesture vaguely at Kuroo, who’s already fiddling with the seatbelt.

Kuroo pipes up, flashing an easy grin. “She’s being modest. She’s the star of the show.”

You give him a side-eye, but your stomach flips a little at how casually he includes you in his world. “I’m definitely just background noise. He’s the big fancy PR guy.”

He drapes an arm across the back of the seat, leaning in with that smug energy you always pretend to hate. “C’mon, babyface, we both know you’re the real highlight.”

The driver chuckles to himself at your banter and pulls out onto the main road.

The city lights blur by, and despite the wine, you’re keyed-up enough to notice just how close Kuroo is. His thigh presses against yours as the car bumps over a pothole, and you catch his scent—still that overpriced cologne. You almost tease him for using the same brand since undergrad, but some part of you likes the familiarity too much to make fun of it.

Kuroo scrolls through his phone—likely checking last-minute details for the event—and you let your gaze wander. You wonder what you’re walking into: a Valentine’s-themed volleyball PR party probably means pink cocktails, goofy heart-shaped decorations, and sponsors angling to chat up Kuroo for new deals.

You sigh softly, leaning back into the seat. At least you’re not teaching labs tomorrow.

Feeling your eyes on him, Kuroo pockets his phone and glances over. “You okay?” he asks, voice quieter so the driver can’t overhear. “Too tipsy?”

“Barely,” you lie. “I’m fine.”

He studies you for a moment, then nods. “If you get overwhelmed or bored, just say the word, and I’ll whisk you out of there.”

Your heart does that unfortunate flip again. “I won’t hold you back from schmoozing with your sponsors,” you say, trying to sound casual.

Kuroo just shrugs. “Eh. The only person I really need to impress is right here.”

He grins when you roll your eyes for the millionth time, but there’s a note of sincerity in his gaze that makes your pulse stutter uncontrollably (and feeling less and less like it’s the wine).

seven.

The Lyft pulls up to a sleek downtown hotel with a bright red banner above the entrance: Welcome, Pre-Valentine’s Volleyball Gala! The curbside is abuzz with people stepping out of taxis and rideshares, all dressed in varying degrees of fancy.

You thank the driver and step out. Immediately, the cold hits you again, but Kuroo’s hand is there, steady at your back. Together, you make your way through the glass doors into the lobby, which is decked out in pink and red balloons. You spot a heart-shaped ice sculpture near the reception desk and suppress a grimace.

“This is… a lot,” you say under your breath, scanning the crowd. Everyone seems to be brandishing name tags and sipping champagne. A table off to the side offers color-coded wristbands for something—“Single,” “Taken,” “Open to Networking,” and so on.

Kuroo leans in close, lips by your ear so you can hear him over the lounge music. “Brace yourself, babyface. Corporate Valentine’s chic in full force.”

You can’t help a snort. “Don’t call me babyface in front of everyone,” you hiss, trying not to look self-conscious.

He smirks. “Fine. Mrs. Kuroo it is.”

You elbow him gently in the ribs, and he lets out a playful “Ow!” just as a man in a suit rushes over to greet you.

“Kuroo, hey!” The guy beams and extends a hand. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got the sponsors over by the bar, and the press is setting up in the lounge area.”

“Thanks, Daichi,” Kuroo replies smoothly, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll swing by and say hello in a minute. Oh—this is my plus-one.”

The man’s smile widens. “Great to meet you!” He doesn’t even blink at the slightly flustered expression on your face, just hands you both event badges. “We’re color-coded, so choose whichever suits your mood. And enjoy the party!”

You glance at the bands in your hand: pink for “Single,” purple for “Open to Collaboration,” red for “Taken.” There are even gold ones for “VIP.”

“Seriously?” you mutter, turning to Kuroo. “This is next-level marketing cheese.”

He laughs, plucking a gold band from a nearby tray and snapping it onto his wrist. “I’m definitely VIP, babe. No shame.”

Rolling your eyes, you settle for a purple one—“Open to Collaboration” seems neutral enough, right? You have no intention of wearing the pink “Single” band all night.

Kuroo’s gaze flicks to it, and you catch a slight smirk before he ushers you forward into the main ballroom.

Which, by the way, is massive: vaulted ceilings, floating heart-shaped lanterns, a champagne fountain at the center. You can practically smell the wealth. A DJ in the corner is playing some inoffensive house music that somehow fits the glittery vibe.

“Wow,” you breathe. “They really didn’t hold back.”

“Volleyball PR events rarely do,” Kuroo says, threading his fingers through yours before you can process it. It’s casual and familiar, like he’s done this a thousand times, but your heart jumps all the same. “Let’s grab a drink, yeah?”

He guides you toward the open bar. A bartender in a bright red bow tie greets you with a grin, asking for your orders.

“Champagne for me,” Kuroo says, then glances down at you. “And for my lovely companion…?”

You pause. “Champagne’s fine. Might as well fit the theme.”

As the bartender works his magic, you turn to Kuroo. “So, what’s the plan? Do we mingle for half an hour and then dip? I’m not sure how long I can stand being reminded that Valentine’s Day is literally next week.”

Kuroo’s eyebrow quirks. “Aren’t we hanging out anyway? We promised each other a palentine’s date—remember?”

You feel your cheeks warm. “I remember. Just… these decorations are overkill.”

He hands you a champagne flute, then raises his own in a mock toast. “To corporate romance,” he says with a smirk.

You clink glasses, taking a sip. The fizzy sweetness bursts across your tongue, and you can’t help but think it tastes like anticipation—like something is about to happen tonight that neither of you saw coming. Then you convince yourself that it’s just the alcohol. 

Over the next twenty minutes, you watch as Kuroo does his job—he introduces you to a cluster of sponsors, some old teammates, and a few local sports reporters. He’s charismatic in that effortless way he’s always been: breezing through small talk, sprinkling in jokes, and deflecting every flirty comment from others with easy charm.

You mostly hover by his side, alternately sipping champagne and trying not to feel out of place in your heels. Every so often, his fingers brush your elbow or settle low on your back, like he’s silently telling you: You’re not alone here.

It’s strangely reassuring—even if you can’t quite decide what it means.

Eventually, the crowd disperses into smaller clusters, and you manage to snag a moment of relative quiet near the pink-lit fountain in the center of the room.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks again, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Not too bored?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. It’s actually kinda funny watching you switch between your used-car-salesman voice and your normal voice.”

He snorts. “You want me to hit them with the real me? That might be too much for these delicate souls.”

“I can handle it,” you say, surprising even yourself with your boldness—maybe it’s the champagne.

Kuroo’s gaze flickers, something mischievous in his eyes. “Oh, I know you can handle me, babyface. You’ve done it since you were six, right?”

Your heart skips. He just won’t let you live that childhood wedding down. And, annoyingly, you don’t really mind.

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s no heat in your voice. “Anyway, what’s next on the agenda? Are you supposed to give a speech or something?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, making it even more disheveled. “Nah, not tonight. Just an appearance—shake some hands, charm some sponsors.” He shrugs, then lowers his voice. “We could slip out soon, if you want. Go somewhere else—somewhere less… pink.”

The offer sits in the air between you. You can’t help wondering what exactly he’s proposing. Drinks at a quieter bar? A late-night walk under the city lights? Going back to your apartment to continue that half-finished bottle of wine?

You muster a casual tone. “I’m not opposed. But won’t your absence be noticed?”

“I showed up, I mingled,” he says, brushing off your concern. “That’s enough for them.”

He flashes that signature grin—so easy, so Kuroo—and a flutter of nostalgia collides with the champagne buzz in your bloodstream. You think about how this night started: you, tipsy in your lobby, letting him steady you on your heels. You think about Valentine’s Day looming, and how all of this might be leading to something (which, you’re still trying to figure out if it’s good or bad).

“Alright,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. “One more round of goodbyes, then we escape.”

Kuroo’s eyes linger on you, almost thoughtful. “Deal.”

He downs the rest of his champagne and sets the empty flute on a nearby tray, offering you his arm. The little gesture makes you laugh under your breath; he’s always half-joking, half-serious. But you slip your hand into the crook of his elbow all the same, taking advantage of the moment—you grin. 

He is your date tonight, after all.

eight.

You two end up at a 99cent pizza shop.

It’s one of those shitty ones, where the lights blink every other second and are open 24/7 and catering exclusively to drunk people. You order a pepperoni slice (which is $1.50, absolutely criminal), Kuroo gets a slice with mushrooms and peppers like a weirdo, and a ten-piece garlic knots because you’re both absolute whores for shitty food. 

The cashier barely looks up as you pass over a crumpled bill, his expression one of pure indifference. It’s the kind of place where no one gives a shit if you waltz in wearing a ballgown or, in Kuroo’s case, an untucked dress shirt and a loosened tie that screams former professionalism turned reckless abandon.

Kuroo nudges your shoulder as he grabs the tray of food. “Find us a seat, babyface.”

You glance around. The booths are occupied by a mix of exhausted bar-hoppers, students pulling all-nighters with greasy paper plates in front of them, and one guy hunched over, presumably contemplating his life choices. Classic New York.

You settle for a two-seater in the back corner, mostly because it’s the only spot that doesn’t look like it’ll give you tetanus. Kuroo sets the tray down between you, sliding into the seat across from you with that ridiculous, smug expression that hasn’t left his face all night.

“You’re staring,” you say flatly, reaching for a garlic knot.

He props his chin on his hand, unbothered. “You look cute.”

Your hand freezes mid-air. “What?”

Kuroo, the absolute bastard, takes a slow bite of his pizza like he didn’t just casually drop a grenade into your bloodstream. “I said, you look cute.” He gestures vaguely at you with his slice. “All dressed up in a shitty pizza joint. Very Serena van der Woodsen in Gossip Girl vibes.”

You recover quickly, snorting as you take a bite of your garlic knot. “You did not just compare me to Serena van der Woodsen.”

“Hey, I know my pop culture references.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously. I like this look on you.”

The warmth in your chest spreads far too quickly. You shove it down with a bite of pizza. “If you’re trying to butter me up, it’s not gonna work.”

Kuroo smirks. “You sure? It worked when we were kids.”

You shoot him a look. “I was six. You bribed me with strawberry Pocky.”

“And you fell for it every time,” he says, grinning. “You were so easy to manipulate.”

You kick him lightly under the table, but there’s no real venom behind it. He just chuckles and takes another bite of his pizza, chewing thoughtfully before glancing at you again.

“So,” he says after a moment. “What was the verdict on tonight? Was it as painful as you thought?”

You hesitate, twirling the crust of your pizza between your fingers. The thing is, you actually had fun. Not just tolerable, get-through-it-and-leave fun, but actual, laughing-with-Kuroo-in-the-middle-of-a-stuffy-corporate-party fun. The realization makes your stomach flip.

“It was fine,” you say, playing it cool. “Drinks were good. Company was tolerable.”

Kuroo barks out a laugh. “Tolerable? Damn, I’ll take it.”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—so easy, so damn fond—makes it hard to breathe for a second.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your plate. “Anyway, it was nice to see you in work mode. You actually seemed like a functional adult.”

Kuroo sighs dramatically. “I know, it’s exhausting.”

You snort. “I imagine so. Having to use, like, three brain cells at a time.”

“It’s really pushing my limits,” he says with an obnoxious frown. 

The conversation drifts into easy territory—inside jokes, exaggerated retellings of childhood disasters, a debate about whether New York pizza is actually better than Tokyo’s (you say yes, he remains stubbornly neutral). It feels natural, like slipping into an old sweater that still fits perfectly despite the years.

At some point, he reaches across the table, swiping a garlic knot straight off your plate.

“Hey,” you protest, swatting at his hand too late.

Kuroo just smirks, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, babyface.”

“Possession is going to be me slapping you in the face if you steal another one.”

“Violence,” he muses, chewing. “That’s how you treat your childhood husband?”

Your face heats. “Tetsu.”

He winks. “Relax. I’ll buy you more next time.”

Next time.

The words hang there for a second longer than necessary. He says it like it’s a given, like this—you and him, nights like this—is a thing that should keep happening.

And the stupidest part? You don’t hate the idea… not even a little bit.

You pick up another garlic knot, breaking eye contact like that’ll do anything to slow your heartbeat. “You better buy me more.”

Kuroo just leans back, watching you like he already knows something you don’t, and you are slightly terrified of whatever that implies.

nine.

Monday night, after you get home from an excruciating day of labwork (like… you entered at 6 AM and left the next day at 2 AM—you’re really going through it these days), Kuroo is already changed and in his pajamas, reading a book and playing a vinyl you bought when you went through your #artsy stage. He looks up with a smile from his spot sprawled across your couch as you come in, drop your keys on the side table, and promptly collapse on the floor.

“I’m so tired,” you wail, fake sniffling, slumped against the wall. Kuroo looked momentarily alarmed until your pleading; he lets out an exhale that’s vaguely close to a laugh when he realises you’re just being dramatic.

“Welcome home,” he says, his smile practically audible in his voice. “Take it you had a long few day… days.”

You sigh, nodding, wobbling over to the couch and plopping on top of him. You’re so tired you don’t even care about the proximity—you want to lie down, right now. “Yeah. But I think I’ve discovered something pretty interesting, so I’m hoping I can get into Neuron this time around.”

“You’ll get it,” Kuroo says completely calmly, sounding insanely confident in you. He doesn’t even look away from his book—just lifts his arms enough to let you put your head on his chest, and then resting them against your shoulder blades. “Smartest girl I know.”

“...Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face into his t-shirt to hide your embarrassment. 

You let out a weary groan, face still hidden in Kuroo’s t-shirt, and he just chuckles under his breath, shifting slightly so you can get more comfortable. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers raking through it in a surprisingly soothing motion—like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Can’t believe you’re still awake,” he remarks, eyes darting back to his book. “Look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

“Very astute observation,” you mumble into the soft cotton. “Nothing gets past you.”

He snorts, lightly tapping your shoulder in retribution before turning a page. “Hey, just looking out for my genius scientist here. Big day tomorrow, right?”

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “Big day? I mean, I guess I have more lab stuff…”

Kuroo tilts his head, arching an eyebrow at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. “Not that,” he says, exasperated. “Valentine’s Day, babyface. Remember?”

Your heart does a quick, uncomfortable skip. Valentine’s—not Palentine’s. The difference lands in your head like a small explosion, especially considering you’ve both been referring to it as Palentine’s up ‘til now.

“O-oh,” you stammer eloquently, trying to recover. “Right. Valentine’s. Sure.”

He watches you carefully, eyes gleaming with amusement as he gently closes his book. “You didn’t forget our plans, did you?”

Plans. Right. He invited you for something—ice skating or a movie, or maybe both. You’d said yes in that flustered, I’m-pretending-this-is-just-a-friendly-thing way. But the way he’s saying it now, with that particular lilt in his voice, has your mind racing.

You force yourself to sit up slightly, though you don’t leave the comfort of lying half-on-top of him. “I—uh. I didn’t forget. I guess I’m just… used to calling it Palentine’s.”

Kuroo smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek with casual familiarity. “Oh, right. My bad. I must’ve slipped.”

Slipped, he says, which makes your pulse do an annoying little flutter.

“I mean, it’s not like it matters,” you continue quickly, your words tripping over themselves. “We’re just hanging out—like always. Whether we call it Valentine’s or Palentine’s or ‘Tuesday’… right?”

He hums in response—low in his throat, almost thoughtful—while his hand drifts from your hair to the back of your neck in a comforting weight. “Sure,” he says, a bit too lightly to be casual. “Whatever you wanna call it.”

The tone in his voice suggests that maybe it does matter, that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t want to hide behind the ‘Palentine’s’ façade anymore.

A moment of silence settles between you, broken only by the faint crackle of your old vinyl spinning and the ever-present traffic outside. Your nerves feel strung tight as a bitch, and you wonder if he can sense how tense you’ve suddenly gone.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness, “I was thinking we could do something painfully cliché tomorrow. Romantic comedy marathon, maybe. Or that ice-skating idea. Hot chocolate, the works.”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. “That sounds… nice.” You fidget with a loose thread on his t-shirt, trying not to overthink every micro-expression on his face. “You sure you won’t be busy with, like, sponsor stuff, or—”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you kidding? I’d rather be with you—binging Netflix, falling on my face on the rink—than stuck in another press conference.” He gives a lazy shrug, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Besides, I’m all yours tomorrow.”

I’m all yours.

There’s that pesky little flutter in your chest again, ramping up several notches. You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding where you’re still sprawled half-across his torso. Possibly. Probably.

“That’s… good,” you manage, trying not to think too hard about the myriad ways Valentine’s could be interpreted. Trying not to let the prospect of him wanting more—maybe wanting you—send you into a full-blown panic. Because a teeny, traitorous part of you is really hoping that’s what it means.

“Now,” he says, clearly sensing the rabbit hole your mind might be running down. “It’s past midnight, and you’ve had, what, negative hours of sleep?”

“That’s not even physically possible,” you argue, though your eyelids suddenly feel very heavy.

“Sure it is,” he counters, wrapping an arm more snugly around your waist as he tugs a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “I’m pretty sure you’re living proof. C’mon. Let’s just crash right here for a bit.”

You don’t have the energy to protest, and honestly? The idea of dozing off to the low hum of the vinyl, warm against Kuroo’s chest, is downright tempting. Besides, you’ll have to drag yourself to bed eventually—but for now, this cozy bubble is enough.

“Fine,” you mumble, feeling your limbs already going slack. “But if I drool on you, it’s your own fault for not kicking me off.”

He laughs quietly, letting the book he was reading slip onto the coffee table. “I’ll live. I’ve survived worse. Like the time you threw up all over me after that carnival ride in middle school.”

You grumble something incoherent in protest, too exhausted to muster a real comeback. The corners of his mouth twitch in amusement, and he shifts just enough to angle you more comfortably against him.

As your eyes flutter shut, you can’t stop replaying the word Valentine’s in your head. Tomorrow. Kuroo said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like it was a given that you wouldn’t just be celebrating as friends or old childhood buddies. Warmth pools in your chest, a mix of excitement and nerves. Maybe you’ll just have to see how tomorrow plays out—maybe you’ll finally figure out if this… thing you’ve been dancing around for so long is actually real.

Because if there’s one thing you are sure about, it’s that Kuroo has always had a way of turning your world on its axis. And this time, you really hope he doesn’t stop at Palentine’s.

ten.

You wake up to the smell of french toast.

Which, honestly, you lowkey don’t love nearly as much as waffles. But you aren’t going to be picky after your crash out last night. 

You stumble into the kitchen, vaguely rubbing your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, blinking away the sleep to read the Eevee alarm clock Kenma bought you when you moved in. 12:19PM. Honestly not your worst: once, during finals season in your undergrad years, you pulled a three-day all-nighter and passed out for sixteen straight hours after. Kuroo had to practically drag you out of your dorm room after that one; he and Kenma basically froze your phone with the amount of texts they sent in a futile attempt to wake you up. 

Kuroo’s back is to you as he stands at the stove, his compression shirt accentuating his muscle definition. He looks straight up like a model you’d see at the mall in a Calvin Klein billboard, and it makes you flush as you remember he said Valentine’s last night. He senses you without even turning around—he, without even bothering to look up, says, “Mornin’, babyface. Do you want strawberries or whipped cream?”

“You doubt me. Both,” you snort, stepping closer. Despite your attempt at nonchalance, your stomach flips when you get closer and can see just how freakishly good he looks in that stupid ass shirt. The memory of him casually calling it Valentine’s still sizzles in the back of your mind.

Kuroo casts you a brief over-the-shoulder grin. “Both it is, princess.” He deftly flips a slice of french toast on the pan, the sweet, eggy aroma curling toward your nose. “Hope you’re hungry. I got a little carried away.”

“Oh, I’m starving,” you say, eyeing the small stack of bread slices he’s already prepared on a plate. “Seriously, I might eat all of this. If you don’t move fast, you won’t get any.”

He chuckles, dropping another piece of bread into the batter. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind while I guard my breakfast with my life.”

You open the fridge for the strawberries, and sure enough, there’s also a can of whipped cream on the shelf—Kuroo came prepared. “I can’t believe you actually planned this,” you mutter under your breath, rifling around. “Is this your way of bribing me to be your Valentine?”

He pretends to think about it. “Might be. If it works, I’ll make waffles next time, too.”

You huff a laugh, grateful your face is still hidden in the fridge so he can’t see the fond smile spreading across your lips. Might be. It’s clear he’s leaning full-throttle into the idea of spending this entire Valentine’s Day with you. The thought warms you more than you want to admit.

Sliding the carton of strawberries onto the counter, you catch him drizzling a bit of honey on the toast. “Fancy,” you tease, dragging out the syllable.

Kuroo shrugs one shoulder. “Hey, can’t help being an overachiever. Besides…” He flips off the stove burner and slides the last slice of french toast onto the plate, stacking it neatly. “I missed this.”

You glance up, curiosity and something else tangling in your chest. “This? Cooking breakfast?”

He sets the spatula aside, turns around, and leans against the counter. “Cooking breakfast for you,” he clarifies, pausing as if testing how you’ll react. “Y’know, we used to hang out all the time—before you left for New York. I guess it just reminded me of those days. Late nights, lazy mornings, that sort of thing.”

Your cheeks warm at his candidness. “We still hung out a bit after we graduated,” you offer, though you know it was never the same once you’d moved halfway across the globe for grad school.

Kuroo nods, his hand lingering on the handle of the frying pan as if he needs something to ground himself. “Yeah, but once you officially moved here? We both got busy. Kenma did his whole streaming empire thing, I jumped into work. And you were—”

“Neck-deep in studies,” you finish for him, remembering those endless days in the lab, how you’d chug energy drinks and blink against fluorescent lights until your eyes burned.

Kuroo taps the counter with his knuckles, a soft exhale escaping him. “Uh-huh. And Kenma and I, well… we kinda promised each other we wouldn’t make a big deal about how much we missed you.” He flashes a small, wry grin. “Figured you already had enough to worry about without dealing with our whining.”

You pause, strawberries in hand, staring at him. “Wait. You both made that promise?”

He nods, and for once, you catch the hint of sheepishness in his expression. “We might have texted constantly about how weird it was without you around,” he admits, chuckling under his breath. “But we agreed to keep it low-key so you could focus on your research. Didn’t want you feeling guilty if you started missing home too much.”

Your chest tightens. “I—God, that’s so stupid of you guys.”

He arches an amused eyebrow. “Stupid?”

“I would have been fine!” you insist, though a pang of fondness (and maybe regret) flickers through you. “Yeah, I’d have been sad, but I would’ve rather known. Going months without hearing from you two sometimes was way worse.”

He huffs a laugh, pushing off the counter to move closer. “Yeah, guess in hindsight, it wasn’t the best plan. But we were, what, twenty? Twenty-one? And mostly worried you’d drop out of grad school to come home if we made you feel bad.”

“Drop out?” You roll your eyes. “Please, as if I’d ever let you be that important.”

Kuroo tosses you a smirk, but there’s a gratefulness in his gaze. “Hey, I’m plenty important. Just not more important than a doctorate in neuroscience.”

“Damn straight,” you retort, but your heart is pounding too hard for sarcasm to land with its usual punch. He missed you. More than that—he and Kenma both actively hid how much they missed you, just so you wouldn’t feel sad or guilty. That’s… an annoying level of sweet.

Before you can dwell on it, he gestures to the french toast. “Anyway, let’s eat? Unless you’d rather stand here and get all sentimental.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, but your tone is more flustered than harsh. “Give me the plate.”

He hands it over with a dramatic bow, then grabs the strawberries and whipped cream to set on the table. You both sit across from each other, and he insists on adding the toppings to your serving, swirling an absurd amount of whipped cream atop each slice.

“Seriously,” you scold, swatting his wrist when he won’t stop pressing the nozzle, “we don’t need that much foam sugar.”

He just laughs. “Oh, come on, babyface. Live a little.”

“Hmm,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your grin. “Fine. But if I get a sugar crash in like two hours, you’re dealing with the aftermath.”

He mock-salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s a small, silly moment, but something in the easy way you banter—especially right after that confession about how hard it was when you left—makes your chest swell with warmth. Perhaps it’s just the Valentine’s vibe that has your mind spinning in circles, but you can’t help wondering what he’s getting at here.

You try a bite, letting the sweetness and cinnamon melt on your tongue. “Damn,” you mumble through a mouthful, “this is actually pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” He sets a hand against his heart in mock offense. “I slaved away in the kitchen—”

“What, for like ten minutes?” you interrupt, snickering. “Yep, truly backbreaking labor.”

He pretends to wipe away a tear. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Despite the teasing, he looks satisfied when you reach for another slice. You don’t miss how his eyes follow the movement, nor how his gaze lingers on your face, like he’s taking mental snapshots of you enjoying the meal. It’s disconcertingly tender—especially for a guy who’s teased you your entire life.

Eventually, when you’ve both eaten more than enough, you lean back in your chair, hand resting on your full stomach. “All right, Chef Kuroo. That was acceptable. Now what’s the plan for the rest of Valentine’s Day, hmm?”

He clears his throat, fiddling with a piece of crust on his plate. “Well, we could go ice skating later—like we talked about. If you’re still up for it. Or we could do that rom-com marathon and eat a bunch of store-bought chocolate. Or both.”

“That’s… definitely an option,” you say slowly, feeling a little thrill ripple through you at how nonchalant you’re trying to be. “Which one first?”

He meets your eyes, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “Why not flip a coin?”

You snort, standing up and collecting the dishes. “No way. I have the worst luck with coin tosses.”

“Then I’ll rig it so you win.” Kuroo grins, pushing back his chair to follow you to the sink. 

“And you call me the overachiever,” you toss over your shoulder, cranking on the faucet. You start rinsing plates, the soap suds foaming around your fingers.

“Mm,” he murmurs, stepping up behind you. “At least let me help.”

He crowds in, reaching to take the plate from your hand. You don’t protest—mostly because your entire body goes rigid at the realization of how close he’s standing. His chin practically brushes your temple, and you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the running water, the faint drip of the faucet, and the thud of your own heartbeat in your ears. You can’t help the way your breath catches.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, noticing your sudden stillness.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing yourself to relax. “Just spacing out.”

His lips twitch into a small, understanding smile. “Same here.” Then, with a deft motion, he takes the plate from you and resumes scrubbing, shoulders barely an inch from yours in your cramped kitchen.

This shouldn’t feel so charged, right? He’s just helping you do dishes. But everything with Kuroo feels different this morning—like there’s some invisible line you both keep brushing against, neither one wanting to take the leap but both too invested to step back.

When the last plate is clean, he sets it on the drying rack, shuts off the water, and dries his hands with a dishrag. “So,” he says, turning to you. “Breakfast? Check. Next item on the Valentine’s agenda?”

You roll your eyes—can’t believe you’re actually calling it Valentine’s now, you think, but you don’t correct him. Instead, you tilt your head, as if deep in thought. “Well, you did promise me cheesy romance, so maybe we do the rom-com marathon first and ice skating afterward, if we still have time.”

His grin is immediate. “Sounds perfect.” He turns and saunters toward your living room, tossing the dishrag onto the counter. “I’ll pick the first movie?”

You’re about to agree when you suddenly remember—he said he’d rig the coin toss. So you raise an eyebrow. “Wait, how do I know you’re not just rigging this in your favor?”

Kuroo snorts, grabbing the TV remote. “Hey, I’m giving you exactly what you want, babyface. I call that your favor.”

You roll your eyes for the millionth time, but you can’t keep the small smile off your face as you follow him into the living room. For the first time in a long while, you feel light—like maybe the missing piece of your life that you left behind in Tokyo is right here, making you french toast and joking about Valentine’s Day.

eleven.

You easily binge Netflix’s Love Is In The Air recommendations for several hours, to the point where, by the time that you wrap up The Kissing Booth 3, the sun has already started to set. Outside your fourth floor apartment, you have a relatively unobstructed view of the way the sky melds into a blend of purples and blues, casting shadows and making your living room’s lighting feel even warmer.

Somehow (you say, knowing full well that you climbed into this position with full intentions of doing so) you end up curled up in Kuroo’s arms, one of your legs draped over his thigh while his arm wraps snugly around your shoulders. His other hand lazily scrolls through the Netflix homepage, searching for the next rom-com victim. You barely pay attention, though—too busy noticing how ridiculously warm he is, how easy it is to fit against him, and how the dark colors of the setting sun outside look so damn pretty.

Finally, after a half-hearted scroll through the Looking For The One category, you decide: “I’m hungry. Let’s get sushi.”

He perks up, setting down the remote. “Now you’re speaking my language. Which place should we order from?”

“There’s this little spot a few blocks away that does really fresh rolls,” you say, grabbing your phone from the cushion beside you. “They deliver in like fifteen minutes, too.”

Kuroo nods, giving you a light squeeze. “Cool. Just let me know how much I owe you. Or consider it your Valentine’s gift to me, I guess.” He snickers.

You roll your eyes at the terrible suggestion, pulling up the menu on your phone. “I’ve got it, I’m feeling generous. Plus, this place is kinda special to me anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Special? Because the sushi’s that good?”

You shift, trying to type your order without meeting his eyes. “Uhh… well, an ex brought me here once. That was back in like, grad school.”

Kuroo’s hand stills against your arm. “Excuse me?” he says, feigning dramatic outrage. “I can’t believe you’d talk about your sordid affairs on Valentine’s Day, babyface. You wound me.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove that doesn’t move him even an inch. “Relax, it was ages ago. It’s not like it was a big deal. I mostly liked him because he kinda looked like—” You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening.

“Kinda looked like… what?” Kuroo parrots, amused suspicion lighting up his features. “Finish that sentence.”

You clamp your mouth shut and tap furiously on your phone screen instead. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no no no, you don’t get to drop that bomb and then pretend it never happened. Spill.”

“It’s none of your business,” you reply swiftly, your cheeks burning. “And for the record, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.”

He sets his jaw, locking you in place by tightening the arm wrapped around you. “Alright, guess I’ll have to guess. Let’s see—you liked him because he kinda looked like…” He pauses, tapping a finger to his chin in exaggerated thought. “Me?”

“Oh my god, no,” you say, maybe a bit too quickly. “That’d be weird, Tetsu. You’re—well, you’re you.”

Something fleetingly vulnerable flashes across his face. He frowns a little, brow knitting. “Do you really think so?” His tone goes quiet, serious in a way that has your stomach dropping.

Your pulse stutters. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” You flail, phone clattering onto the cushion as you try to find his gaze. “I just—look, it’s not weird. Of course I—I mean, you know I—” You exhale shakily, feeling your words tumble over themselves. “I like you, Tetsu. Please don’t be upset.”

There’s a beat of tense silence… and then Kuroo bursts out laughing. Actual, stomach-jostling laughter. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he struggles to compose himself, and you realize, with rapidly boiling annoyance, that he’s been messing with you.

“You jerk!” you sputter, smacking him on the arm. “That wasn’t funny! I thought I actually hurt your feelings.”

He just grins, easily absorbing your weak swats. “Aw, sorry, babyface. You should’ve seen your face, though.”

Your cheeks feel molten. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”

“Mm-hmm,” he drawls, pulling you back against him, his palm smoothing over your shoulder. “But the good news is, now I know you do like me. And that some of your exes looked like me, which is a really nice ego boost.”

You groan, burying your face against his chest. “Shut up.”

He keeps talking anyway, voice taking on a more pensive note. “I mean, it’s not like I can judge. I think about you whenever I meet someone new.”

Slowly, you lift your head, eyebrows knitting. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs one shoulder, as if it’s no big deal. “Just, like, whenever I go on a date, I find myself comparing them to you. They’re never as funny or as smart, or I wonder if they’d get along with Kenma the way you obviously do… that kind of thing.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. “Tetsu…” You’re not sure how to respond to that confession. Warmth and a spike of adrenaline rush through you, and you can only open and close your mouth in silence.

At your speechlessness, Kuroo just laughs, scrunching his nose in amusement. “Aw, come on. It’s not that shocking, is it?”

“Uh,” you manage, blinking. “I—uh.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, so you do the only thing that makes sense in your frazzled state: you announce, “I’m gonna go pee.”

“What?” He snorts. “Really? That’s your best response to my heartfelt confession?”

“You think I chose this response?” you squeak, scrambling to your feet. Your cheeks feel like they could combust. “I don’t control your unfiltered romantic drivel, and you don’t control my bladder, okay?”

Kuroo just shakes his head in disbelief, though his eyes gleam with delight. “I’m not stopping you, babyface. Go pee. The sushi’ll be here in a few minutes anyway.”

You nod, fleeing the scene for the bathroom, heart pounding in your ears. Even as you slam the door behind you, you can hear him chuckling softly in the living room.

Leaning against the bathroom door, you take a steadying breath. He compares everyone to you. You literally admitted you like him, too. And he’s laughing, because this is all apparently just… normal. Suddenly, the entire dynamic shifts—like everything you’ve both been dancing around for so long is right there, out in the open, and you’re not quite sure what to do next.

Well, you do know one thing: you really do need to pee.

“Okay,” you mutter, “priorities.”

And as you step toward the toilet, part of you wonders how to keep your composure once you walk back out to him—because from here on out, there’s no more pretending you don’t both feel something real.

twelve.

After peeing and washing your hands with your favorite bougie ass soap (Christmas gift from your boss; you could never afford it at department store rates), you whip out your phone and call Kenma. You know it’s 8 AM over there, so there’s a good chance you’ll be waking up your brother, but you don’t care because you need his objective opinion right now.

It takes until the third call, but on the fourth ring, he finally picks up. 

“What?” he mumbles groggily. “I was sleeping.”

“Sorry, but I don’t care. Give me some good advice right now,” you hiss into your phone, pacing back and forth in front of your shower like a maniac.

You hear fabric rustling, followed by a prolonged yawn. “Fine. I bet it has to do with Kuro.”

You freeze, biting down on your lip. “...Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Kenma sighs. “I literally can’t believe you’re calling me about him at eight in the morning.”

“It’s not that early, y’know.”

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, then says more clearly, “So what’s the crisis? I’m not sure how many brain cells I have at this hour.”

You rub your forehead, letting out a strangled groan. “Kenma, is it weird if I kinda—I don’t know—wanna make out with him? Like, a lot? Maybe not just make out—maybe, like, really make out—” You shake your head vigorously, cheeks flaming. “But is that weird?”

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment. Then Kenma’s voice, flat as ever: “That’s my sister and my best friend you’re talking about. Gross. But also not really weird. Because I literally officiated your wedding in second grade, remember? You two are basically old news.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, your free hand clenching at your side. “Oh my God, not you too. Kuroo keeps bringing it up, and now you’re enabling him. When did that wedding even become a real memory to everyone but me?”

“Uh, it’s always been a memory. You wore a yellow dress, he had a Spider-Man t-shirt, I was reading from a Pokémon handbook.” He yawns. “I was, like, seven, but I still remember, because Kuro wouldn’t shut up about it. And apparently, still won’t.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, pacing faster. “He mentions it daily, I swear, and it’s driving me insane—like, I get it, we had a pretend wedding when we were literal children. Does he have to bring it up every chance he gets?”

Kenma’s voice goes deadpan. “He brings it up because he likes you, dumbass.”

Your pacing halts so abruptly you almost trip over the bathroom mat. “...Oh.”

A beat passes; the only sound is your heart thudding in your ears.

“Yeah,” Kenma continues, dry as day-old toast. “He’s liked you forever. You’ve liked him forever. You’re both idiots. Congrats.”

You gawk at the phone, mind spinning. “Wait—he—he’s always…? Does everyone know this except me?”

Kenma yawns again, unperturbed. “Probably. I mean, we weren’t exactly subtle growing up. Dad used to tell me he was more worried about you running off with Tetsu than, like, your middle school crushes.”

You gape. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” You hear the faint click of a laptop or a Switch—knowing Kenma, he’s probably opening up a game to pass the time. “Anyway, is that all you needed to ask? Because I’d like to get at least another hour of sleep.”

You groan, but you can’t quell the swirl of hope rising in your chest. “This is… surreal. He just told me earlier—like, not directly, but he basically said he thinks about me whenever he meets someone new. And I might’ve implied I like him too—oh God, Kenma, what do I do?”

He’s quiet for a moment, presumably considering. “Make out with him. I don’t know. You literally said that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s it? That’s your profound, brotherly wisdom?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he drones. “You both already know you like each other. This was the most obvious outcome in the world. Just do your thing, get it out of your system. Or get married again if you want. Could be a nice full-circle moment.”

You let out a mortified noise, pressing your forehead to the cool tile of your bathroom wall. “You’re—urgh, never mind. Thanks, Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Tell Kuro he owes me five bucks for something… I’ll think of a reason later. Bye.”

Before you can protest, he hangs up, leaving you with your phone still pressed to your ear. You stare at the blank screen, a mix of exasperation and relief swirling through your chest.

He likes you. You like him. You’re idiots—Kenma’s words, not yours. And apparently, neither of you has been hiding it as well as you thought.

You inhale slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. Then you square your shoulders. “Okay,” you say to yourself, “I can do this. Just… go out there and act normal. Or as normal as possible while wanting to jump his bones. Easy.”

With that pep talk, you push off the wall, open the bathroom door, and step into the hallway, with completely unfounded confidence in yourself.

thirteen.

That confidence goes straight out the window because as soon as you walk back, you are caught off-guard by Kuroo standing in the middle of your living room, hands behind his back and wearing the guiltiest expression you’ve ever seen, obviously hiding something from your view. You’re scared, and immediately a little suspicious. 

“What are you doing?” you ask warily, taking very slow, careful steps toward him. “What is that?”

He ignores the question entirely, instead breaking into a triumphant grin. “Babyface,” he declares, “I have a Valentine’s Day gift for you.”

All the tension in your shoulders uncoils in one quick moment of relief. “Oh.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “Okay, this should be good. What is it—a frog? A cricket? Remember when you gave me that cricket in fourth grade?”

Kuroo stifles a laugh, as if recalling the memory of your horrified shriek when you opened a tiny shoebox to find a chirping insect. “I was trying to teach you about biology. You always liked science-y stuff,” he defends. “Besides, a cricket is romantic if you think about it long enough.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please don’t tell me that’s what’s behind your back right now.”

He steps forward, eyes warm with mirth. “I promise. This is way better.”

He produces a small, flat object from behind him—a rectangular folder, sealed by a thin, glossy cover. At first, you’re genuinely perplexed. It’s too big to be a normal card, and there’s no way it’s a book, unless it’s some custom print job. The corners are crisp, the material looks like maybe photo paper. Curiosity coaxes you closer.

Catching your confusion, Kuroo grins wider. “Look inside.”

With a hint of skepticism, you slip your fingers under the cover, peeling it back. Inside is a high-quality color print—like a medical scan or something from a research article. Black-and-gray cross-sections and bright neon highlights fill your vision, and as you blink, trying to parse the image, your mouth goes dry. You recognize the shape of a human brain from an fMRI scan: swirling patterns in vivid oranges and reds indicating activated regions.

“Is this… an fMRI?” you breathe, your hand trembling slightly as you lift the print to the light. Definitely an fMRI, your trained eye confirms—distinct slices, certain labeling, the faint text from the imaging software. “Tetsu, why the hell are you giving me…?”

He shifts, almost shy, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked one of the JVA’s partnered sports med facilities to do a little favor for me.” A pause. “A small, borderline unethical favor.”

Your eyes dart back to the vibrant splotches. “The nucleus accumbens,” you whisper, tapping a bright orange blob near the center. “And the hippocampus. They’re… lit up.” You draw in a sharp breath. “These areas activate when you’re—”

“—experiencing motivation, reward, or strong emotional attachment,” he finishes gently, voice hushed. “Like, for instance, thinking about someone you love.”

Your heart stutters so violently you nearly drop the print. “So, you—this is… from your brain?” you manage, your throat suddenly tight.

Kuroo nods, looking almost bashful, which is a jarring contrast to his usual smug confidence. “They scanned me while I was, uh… focusing on a particular mental image.” He glances away, expression uncharacteristically shy. “I figured you’d like the hard data. You being a scientist and all.”

You force yourself to swallow past the dryness in your mouth. “You’re telling me you literally got an fMRI done while thinking about… someone?” Your voice trembles on the last word, and you can’t quite meet his eye.

He exhales a quick laugh. “Uh-huh. Didn’t take long. I just, you know, had to fill out some forms, promise it was for a PR stunt about brain health or something. Then I, well, closed my eyes and pictured—”

“Who?” you interrupt, not even caring that you sound breathless. You’re clutching the fMRI print so hard you can feel the edges biting into your fingertips.

Kuroo’s grin turns downright sheepish, and he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Take a wild guess, babyface.”

Heat floods your cheeks, your mind flashing back to all the data you’ve read about how the nucleus accumbens is heavily involved in romantic love, addiction, reward. All those nights you taught undergrads about dopaminergic pathways and the hippocampus’s role in forming new memories—specifically, emotional memories.

“You… you were thinking about me?” you ask, voice scarcely above a whisper.

The sheepishness melts into something warmer. “Yeah,” he admits, gaze holding yours. “Obviously.”

For a moment, your living room goes silent—no hum of traffic or whir of appliances registers in your ears, just the thud-thud-thud of your heart as you stare at the bright orange smears on the print. He was literally focusing on you, flooding his mind with thoughts of you, enough to trigger all these hallmark signs of love and emotional resonance in his brain.

“You—” you start, but your voice is shaky. You take a breath, dropping your eyes to the image again. “This is probably the strangest and most… scientifically romantic thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He clears his throat, stepping closer. “I hoped you’d see it that way. I know you’re not into the typical Valentine’s gifts—flowers and cheesy cards. So I thought, you know… I’d show you proof.” He shrugs, but there’s an earnestness in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. “Real, measurable proof that you’re always in my head.”

Overcome, you tear your gaze from the print to search his face, half expecting him to burst into laughter and say it’s another joke. But there’s no sign of teasing. He’s dead serious, a bit vulnerable, and it reminds you painfully of how you’ve known him forever—how under all the arrogance and jokes, he’s always worn his heart right there on his sleeve.

“I—” You can’t find the words, so instead, you lean forward, pressing your forehead gently against his shoulder. The fMRI print stays clutched in your hand at your side, but the rest of you rests against him, trying to steady your breathing.

Kuroo’s arms come up, enveloping you. You feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of his body, and it’s equal parts comforting and electrifying. “So,” he says softly, voice rumbling through your hair, “was this too much?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “No,” you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up in a shaky smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in.” You let out a small laugh, one that wobbles on the edge of tears. “You literally went out of your way to prove you’re thinking about me with actual neuroscience data. How am I supposed to top that?”

He grins, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You don’t have to. Maybe just trust me when I say you’re stuck in my head, yeah?”

A breathless little chuckle escapes you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I… can do that.”

For a second, the two of you just stand there, pressed together, the overhead light casting a soft glow on the fMRI print you still clutch in your trembling hand. Then Kuroo’s voice breaks the silence:

“Hey,” he murmurs, “since we’re on the subject of your super-scientific interest in my reward pathways… maybe we can do a little experiment?”

Your brow arches, a half-laugh catching in your throat. “An experiment, huh?”

“Mhm.” He carefully closes his hand around your wrist—the one holding the print—guiding it so you can set it gently on the coffee table nearby. Then he slides his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to his. “I wanna see if I can spike some more activity in that region. Because I’m definitely thinking about you right now.”

Your heart stutters. The last time he teased you about wanting to test something, you were six years old, and he was coaxing you into believing that tying your shoelaces together would make you run faster. This, though? Vastly different stakes.

Still, your lips twitch into a wry smile. “Just… kissing me won’t show up on an fMRI unless you, I don’t know, plan on hooking up electrodes or something.”

He smirks, fingers trailing up to brush the line of your jaw. “Nah, no fancy medical tech needed. I just want an empirical result—like, say, a moan or a heartbeat spike.”

A shiver runs through you, and you swear you can feel your pulse jump beneath his hand. “You’re such a nerd,” you whisper, lips quirking. “But sure. For science.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and easy, like the last golden light of sunset spilling through half-open blinds. Then, before you can think too much about it, he closes the distance, tilting his head just slightly as his lips brush against yours in a kiss that is warm, lingering, and unhurried. It steals your breath, not in the way a storm might, but like a tide gently pulling you under, enveloping you in something deep and inevitable.

The taste of him is familiar yet new all at once—there’s the faint trace of the sushi from earlier, or maybe just the memory of it, mingling with something sweeter, something unmistakably him. His fingers ghost along your waist, their presence featherlight but grounding, like a silent promise that he’s here, he’s real. And when he pulls you closer, his body pressing flush against yours, you feel it—the way your heart flutters wildly against your ribs, the way warmth spreads through your chest like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.

For a moment, the world holds its breath. Everything fades away—the hum of the city beyond the window, the soft glow of the overhead lights, even the thoughts that usually crowd your mind. There is only this: the way his lips move with quiet reverence, the quiet hitch in your breath as your fingers curl instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, the subtle shift of his body as he deepens the kiss just enough to make your pulse race.

And then, suddenly, you realize—you don’t need a machine or a calculation to tell you how you feel. The answer is already written in the way your entire chest hums, in the way your skin tingles where he touches you, in the way something inside you feels like it’s come alive, like a supernova has replaced your heart.

God, the astrophysics department should be studying this instead.

When he finally pulls back—foreheads brushing, breath mingling—he searches your eyes, his own half-lidded with affection. “So,” he murmurs, “did I succeed in lighting up your hippocampus?”

Your laugh comes out a little breathless. “If you keep that up,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest, “you might just rewire my entire brain.”

He grins, leaning in again to drop a quick peck at the corner of your mouth. “Good. Then I’ll have all the data I need.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another lingering kiss, feeling the warmth of his smile against your lips. In the back of your mind, you’re distantly aware that your own reward pathways might be exploding, nucleus accumbens glowing neon, hippocampus forging brand-new memories like a bonfire. And for the first time in a long time, you’re okay with letting the feelings have free rein.

Because sometimes, science can capture how people feel, but it can’t fully capture why. And right now, with Kuroo’s arms around you and that precious fMRI print still waiting on the coffee table, you think you’ve finally found your “why” in the easiest, most obvious place of all:

He loves you, and you love him back.

fourteen.

Three hundred and sixty-four days later, Kuroo is helping you move into a new apartment. In Tokyo. Because Columbia offered you the chance to do an exchange with the University of Tokyo before the end of your doctorate studies. For two entire years, slicing open human brains and figuring out what’s going on beneath, because your article published in Neuron made the cover page and you got a fat and juicy grant from the school. Two entire years of being close enough to hear your parents bragging about you in person again, and to have shitty takeout dinner with Kenma after his video game streams but before his corporate mojo. 

And two entire years of getting to live with your boyfriend. Kuroo, your very wonderful boyfriend who you love more than life itself and who you want to be buried with one day. The Kuroo who was the first person you liked at six years old and is still who you like at twenty-six. The Kuroo who you have successfully managed an international relationship with because you’ve already went three years apart without the spark dying. Still, you’re absolutely beaming as you carry in boxes and boxes of clothes, because you always love getting to be with him, in person and in real life, and now you get to every single day.

You can’t hang up on him when he gets annoying anymore, but it’s worth it when he makes you breakfast daily and reaches for you in his sleep. 

You heave another box into the apartment—this one filled with mismatched mugs you’ve collected from half a dozen coffee shops—and set it down with a groan. Kuroo flashes you a grin from across the living room, one hand resting casually on his hip as he surveys the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and hastily labeled luggage.

“You brought an entire suitcase just for shoes,” he points out, amused.

“Hey,” you protest, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, “if I’m living here for two years, I’m not just gonna live in sneakers.”

He ambles over and nudges the box with his foot. “I guess that’s fair—though I’m not carrying that one up another flight of stairs if we end up moving again. You’ll have to bribe Kenma for help.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips free. “Fine, fine. Now, major question: where are we putting our bed?”

He waggles his eyebrows, eyes bright with mischief. “We?” he echoes, as if you haven’t been living together for all of thirty minutes. “I’m pretty sure I get ultimate bed placement rights, given my extensive experience in interior design.”

“Oh, sure, because black-cat-themed t-shirts and old gym hoodies scream ‘interior design mogul.’”

He smirks. “Hey, I’ve got taste.” With that, he gestures expansively toward the center of a wall in the room you’d marked for the bed, where the largest patch of light from the window splashes onto the floor. “I say we put the bed there. We’ll get a queen, obviously.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A queen? As if you’re actually gonna stay on your side.”

His grin turns lazy. “Exactly. I can find you in the expanse.”

“And you wonder why I think you’re annoying.” You toss him a mock exasperated look, which only earns you another chuckle.

“You still chose to live with me,” he points out, that devilish glint in his eyes returning, “because you’re stuck with me, right here.”

“Lucky me,” you tease, while your heart still does that stupid flutter thing at the thought of waking up next to him every day.

He walks over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. It’s such a simple, tender gesture that you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” you say, turning back to break down an empty cardboard box, “it’s Valentine’s Day. Any big plans, or are we just, y’know, gonna eat convenience store chocolates while finishing the bed frame?”

Kuroo shrugs, far too casually for someone who’s obviously up to something. “Mmm, I might have a surprise,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Of course you do. You and your surprises. Is it expensive, by chance?”

His brows lift in feigned innocence. “Depends if you consider a diamond ring expensive.”

You almost drop the box, now flattened and very, very large. “A what now?”

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You heard me.”

He’s kidding. He has to be fucking kidding, right now. He did not spend a small fortune on a rock for your finger.

“Fucking return that,” you blurt instantly, your heart skipping not one but multiple beats. “That’s so expensive. Why would you do that?”

“Well, if I’m gonna get my future wife a ring, I’m gonna make it an investment,” Kuroo replies with an ease that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“Wait—what the… Are you—are you serious?”

He leans closer, lips tilting in a secretive smile. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

Your mind whirls, half in shock, half in outright giddy disbelief. You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything: his calm breathing, the faint noises from the street outside, the way the newly painted walls catch the late afternoon light.

“Are you messing with me?” you finally manage.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and then taps the tip of your nose affectionately. “But trust me, you’ll like it.”

It’s maddening and wonderful all at once, and you can’t help but wonder how on earth you got lucky enough to stumble into a future that looks a whole lot like happiness—especially if it involves a ring.

But for now, you tamp down the frantic beating of your heart and glance at the corner of the room. “Right,” you say, clearing your throat. “Queen bed. Got it.”

He laughs. “We’ll get the perfect one tomorrow. After all, we have at least two years of me latching onto you in my sleep, and then… maybe forever.”

And you roll your eyes, but you know what’ll happen tomorrow. Because of course you’re going to say yes. Because Kuroo Tetsuro has been the love of your life since you were a kid marrying him with dandelions, and because in every version of your imagined future, he’s still there, standing across from you at the aisle, regardless of if it’s a Band-Aid or an engagement ring he’s putting on your finger. Because he still makes every reward center in your brain light up (and because you’re putting that fMRI in your office at the university). 

Honestly, love is a system of chemical reactions. Scanners and artificial intelligence will probably take over the world sooner or later, and the scientific community is getting better and better at understanding the whys. You can measure the dopamine flooding your brain, track the firing of mirror neurons, and map out which regions of your cortex light up at the sound of his laugh. But still, science is flawed, because all the scanning techniques in the world can’t replicate the soft, certain rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, or the way his eyes crinkle in tender amusement when he looks at you.

In this moment, your hippocampus diligently encodes every detail: the slight scuff on the floor, the teasing quirk of his lips, the warm press of his shoulder against yours. The memory crystallizes, even before tomorrow’s promise fully forms, because you already know the answer. You always have.

When you finally pull your gaze away, the last rays of sunlight spill over the spot where you’ll put your new bed—the place you’ll fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms, night after night. You picture the days ahead: lazy mornings that begin with his sleepy kisses, evenings spent side by side, peeling back the layers of the human mind and finding new depths in each other all the while.

And as your heart thrums with a rhythm that science can’t quite pin down—something that defies clean categorization in textbooks—you realize that in this bright, messy, glorious future, every neuron in your body is wired just for him.

And if that’s not proof enough of love, you’re not sure what is.

⨭ closing notes; i love being able to write bc i can create purely self indulgent things like this. i'm a neuroscientist and my bday is nov 14 (exactly 9 months after valentine's day) and im from nyc so this one really has a lil kick to it. did u notice i made it perfectly 14 chapters cause feb 14 lol i rly used my brain for that one. anyway happy day of love!! whether ur celebrating or not, please know i love u all <3

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 17 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, mentions of OC thinking Jungkook was going to hurt himself in October, mentions of Hobi, explicit content: nipple/breast play, hickeys, praising, teasing, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, balls sucking, a bit of mouth fucking, hair pulling, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid)

☆word count: 9k

☆a/n: I don't want this to be the end no :') thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I hope you loved this story as much as I loved writing it, and I hope it stays in your heart like it will for sure stay in mine <3 thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, December 19th

It snowed for the first time of the year this afternoon. 

It had been forecasted for a week now, but you still smile as you walk out of the exam building along with Nabi, a blanket of snow covering the ground. Students are milling around, throwing snowballs and building snowmen as their cheeks turn rosy, and their breaths turn into clouds that slowly lift towards the cloud-covered sky. 

It’s not snowing anymore, but it’s supposed to start again over the night, which you reckon might disrupt your plans of driving home tomorrow with Taehyung, Ariane and Jungkook. You think your mother would be relieved - the apartment will be crowded for two weeks, and you know she likes her space.

At least she doesn’t have a boyfriend this year, and so it’ll only be the five of you. It’s not like you aren’t used to sharing a roof with the three others though - you’ve been good at it this semester, especially considering that you and Jungkook have been sharing a room, and Taehyung and Ariane another.

Which left your old room as a guest room for the nights Jimin and Sera get too drunk with you to make their way home.

Your relationship with Jungkook has slowly evolved over the weeks and months since you’d run home thinking that he was going to hurt himself. You’re now fully dating, or at least you tell so to everyone that asks you where you’re standing when it comes to Jungkook.

You know he does the same anyway, even if you haven’t really stated to each other that you are boyfriend and girlfriend yet. You don’t think it matters - your relationship with him has been going on for far longer than just a few weeks, and the absence of a label doesn’t scare you in the slightest. Not when you fall asleep and wake up next to him every day, his first and last words of the day always love confessions uttered against your skin.

It’s a side of Jungkook that you like. The way he’s demonstrative of his affection, not caring if your brother is watching whenever he hugs you or kisses you. Taehyung has cursed the two of you repeatedly for it, but there’s just some beauty in the carefree act of loving each other in front of the very person you thought would end you that you both can’t let go of.

Speaking about that, your relationship with Taehyung has been… strained, since October. You haven’t really been able to forgive him for what happened that night he threw Jungkook out of the apartment, and he hasn’t quite been able to forgive you for hiding your relationship with Jungkook from him. You think he’s a little hypocritical for it - he and Jungkook have had no trouble resuming their friendship despite the fact that you and Jungkook are now a thing. But you don’t mind. 

As long as Jungkook is happy, then you are happy too.

“You coming to Yoongi and Namjoon’s tonight, right?” Nabi says as you walk down the path, your shoes crunching on the snow.

You chuckle. “You think I’d miss Yoongi introducing his boyfriend?” you say. “Hell nah. Of course I’ll be there.”

Nabi laughs, slightly shaking her head. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them together at the gym.”

She’s got a point, but you still want to see gym guy - Mikey, you’ve now found out - out of his natural habitat, aka the gym. 

“Is Jungkook coming?” she asks.

You nod. “Later though. He’s going out for drinks with his friends, and he said he’d meet up around eleven.”

“That’s late,” she comments.

You playfully push her. “We’ll probably be going until three am, I think eleven is fine.”

She laughs, though her eyes sparkle as she looks at you, with excitement and amusement you know is reciprocated in your own gaze.

Tonight will be one for the books, and you just can’t wait.

You have to head to your apartment first, to take a quick shower and grab the drinks you’ve bought for the evening. Nabi tags along, chilling with Ariane in the living room while you get ready. You get out of the shower ten minutes later to see that they’ve been joined by Taehyung.

The absence of Jungkook brings a pout to your lips, even though you know he’s just with Jimin and Eunwoo at Jimin’s apartment, pre-drinking for the bar.

“What’s up?” Taehyung greets you. 

You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He takes it in stride, looking away from you to focus on Nabi and Ariane’s conversation while you make your way to your room to do your makeup quickly. Soon enough you’re ready to go, and you stop by the kitchen to grab the drinks - different flavours of lemonade with alcohol, like maybe it’s summer and the snow outside is but a mirage.

“Let’s go!” you say as you reach the living room next, and Nabi nods as she jumps up from the couch, meeting you near the door.

“I am so excited Y/n, you have no idea,” she says, and you laugh as you nod approvingly.

“Let’s go see what that Mikey is made of.”

Her laugh doubles up, and it follows you outside after you’ve put your coats and boots on. You’ve decided to walk to Yoongi and Namjoon’s place, and Nabi lets out a happy yelp when it starts snowing again.

“It’s so pretty!” she says, motioning to the fat snowflakes that are lazily falling from the sky.

You fully agree with her - there’s something magical about the first day of snow. It fills the air with excitement and joy and nostalgia for the days when you were younger and the first snow meant the beginning of the Christmas season, which you reckon might have always been your favourite season after all.

“It really is,” you agree with Nabi.

She nods wisely, and then throws you a look. “Did you know Ariane’s grandfather was French?”

You actually did. Ariane told you it was the reason why she’d decided to do a semester abroad in Paris, and that her grandfather had also been the one to name her. 

“Yeah, she told me all about it when we went out to the karaoke bar,” you say, referencing an outing that had taken place in early November, when your relationship with Jungkook still felt fresh.

Not that it doesn’t anymore. You reckon being with Jungkook will always be refreshing to you - he’s the oasis in the middle of your desert.

“Oh right,” Nabi lets out. “That time you lost your voice for five days straight.”

“I did not!” you cry out as she bursts out laughing.

You, as a matter of fact, did lose your voice, but it was only because you and Jungkook had gotten too drunk and you were screaming more than singing by the end of the evening.

You spend the rest of the walk to Yoongi’s apartment bickering with Nabi, laughing as you reminisce about the good times you spent over the last few months. And there have been many - Jungkook fits right in with your friend group, and you’ve been hanging out with all of them on multiple occasions, Taehyung, Ariane, Sera and Jimin even tagging along some of the time.

You get to Yoongi’s apartment at the same time as a flustered Seokjin, who admits he had to sprint to make it in time because Ria complained about his tardiness. He’s clutching two rosé bottles for dear life - Ria’s preferred alcoholic beverage now - and he explains he was late because of them. Though you know Ria probably wasn’t actually upset with him in the slightest, you still find it weirdly endearing that Seokjin ran.

It’s proof that he’s utterly obsessed with your friend, much like she is obsessed with him, too.

“Well then let’s get in,” Nabi says, and you follow her inside the building, and then up to the apartment in and of itself. 

The door is unlocked when you get there, and you walk in, taking off your boots in the hall before making your way to the living room, where your friend group is all gathered already.

The first person you notice is Mikey, and he politely smiles at you as Ria throws herself at you and Nabi, hugging you both tight to her chest.

“Congrats on finishing your semester!” Ria says. 

You thank her, and she takes the drinks you’ve brought from your hands so that you can take off your coat, putting them down on the coffee table where all available alcohol is waiting for you all. And there’s a lot - you would think a lot more people are coming tonight, but it really is just the seven of you, and Jungkook later.

You reckon it’s just another sign that tonight will be one for the books.

You start the evening by ordering dumplings, and you grab one of the lemonade drinks as you wait for the food to arrive, sipping from it as you talk with all of your friends. Mikey remains silent by Yoongi’s side, though you notice the way they’re holding hands, and you smile at the sight.

Yoongi is shining. His eyes are sparkling like you’ve never seen them do before, and he looks like the sun personified with Mikey by his side. He deserves the happiness, every single ounce of it, especially after what Hoseok put him through.

For some reason the thought reminds you of your old friend, and you wonder how Hoseok is doing on his side of the country. Has he found the solace he was seeking for? Though you’d long hated him for the way he’d ghosted everyone, tonight you reckon you forgive him.

You forgive him for what he put Yoongi through, only because it allowed Yoongi to experience this relationship now, a much needed relationship that’s been healing every jagged piece of his heart.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of the sweatshirt you’re wearing - Jungkook’s shirt - and you pull it out, immediately smiling when you see that Jungkook texted you.

[5:57 pm] JK: am tipsy

[5:57 pm] JK: can’t wait to see you later

You laugh at his text, replying quickly to make sure to drink water, and then you put your phone away, focusing on the conversation again.

“That’s just because you’re jealous I can make good music!” Yoongi is saying, and Namjoon rolls his eyes, though the laugh on his lips tells you that they aren’t truly fighting.

“You say you make good music but none of us has ever heard your music, Yoongi,” Ria says, finger pointing at him like she’s scolding him. 

“You’ve never showed them your music?” Mikey intervenes.

Yoongi blushes, eyes falling to the floor. “Well, uh, I just never had the occasion to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Namjoon says. “Pull out the receipts, Yoongi.”

Yoongi shakes his head, looking around for salvation. He meets your gaze, but you only shrug your shoulders, a mischievous smile on your lips. You’ve been curious about his music too, so you certainly won’t be the one to encourage him to hide it for longer.

“I hate y’all,” Yoongi grumbles.

“I mean, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Mikey says next to him, resting a hand on Yoongi’s thigh as Yoongi grabs his phone.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Yoongi reassures him, and they look at each other for a few seconds.

It’s intimate, and you look down at your drink to give them privacy. A few seconds later, the living room fills with the intro of a song, and your gaze widens when the lyrics start, all in Korean. You don’t think Yoongi’s the one singing, and you’re proven right when a rapper comes in, and you recognize Yoongi’s voice.

“Bro, what?” Seokjin lets out.

“Shhh!” Nabi says, and Ria fake-glares at Seokjin, who just purses his lips, visibly holding a laugh in.

The song is good. More than that, the song is moving, the emotions running high all throughout it, up until the end, when the instruments all stop except the piano, giving a melancholy ending to the song.

“Yoongi!” you let out. “That shit is fire.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi says, his cheeks turning deep red.

Mikey is smiling next to him as everyone congratulates him, and before you have time to listen to more of his music, Namjoon receives a text saying that the food has arrived. He goes downstairs with Seokjin to bring everything up, and a minute later you’re all eating at the kitchen table, Ria sitting on Seokjin’s lap so that everyone can fit around the table.

The evening unfolds with more music that Yoongi composed, songs he claims he wants to put in an EP he’ll release next year. You’re reeling at the beauty of his talent, and though he still turns red every time someone compliments him, you know his smile means he appreciates it, and is probably relieved that you all enjoy his music. 

You reckon Mikey helps, encouraging Yoongi whenever he looks too embarrassed, and you’re so happy for your friend you feel like crying. Or maybe that’s because you’re on your fourth - fifth? - lemonade and the alcohol has started messing with your brain.

Time flies, and Jungkook texts you that he’s on his way while you’re playing Jackbox on the TV, the laughter so loud in the small living room that you’re convinced the boys might get a noise complaint by the end of the evening. You’re excited to see Jungkook, deadly so, and you decide to meet him downstairs, needing some fresh air anyway.

The snow is still falling outside when you make your way downstairs. The streetlights colour it in neon orange, and it covers the ground in a soft blanket. You wait in the hall of the building, watching the world outside and thinking about how everything has changed in a year.

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be dating your brother’s best friend now, you would have told them that they were crazy. 

Now you know there’s nothing crazy about you and Jeon Jungkook. It just makes sense. 

Jungkook arrives sometime later - it’s hard to tell if it’s been a long time or not when your head is swimming in alcohol. He smiles brightly the second he sees you, opening the door to walk into your arms.

You hug him tight to your chest, hiding your face in his neck as his arms snake around your waist. He smells of home - you’ve realized he’s become your home now - and you relax in his embrace, letting him sway you from side to side gently.

“Hey there,” he greets you with his softest voice, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“Hey,” you reply. There’s a silence as you tighten your hold on him, and then you pull away to meet his gaze. “I’m drunk.”

He laughs, pecking your forehead. “I’m tipsy. But I drank lots of water like you said.”

You nod approvingly and then return your head to his neck. Unable to resist, you lightly bite at the skin, and Jungkook yelps, jumping out of your arms.

“What was that for!”

You eye him up and down. “You look yummy.”

He snorts, grabbing your hand to pull you in. “Oh, you’re drunk drunk.”

“I’m not!” you insist, though you’re fully aware that you are.

It’s not like it matters - you know Jungkook will take care of you.

And he does - he gets you water as soon as you get inside, your friends greeting him in a chorus of hellos. He waves at them, forces you to sit down with the glass of water, and you sip from it as he grabs the beer Namjoon offers him. 

Namjoon and Jungkook’s friendship has blossomed over the last two months. They’ve gotten really close, often hanging out just the two of them, which you think is adorable. They apparently have more in common than you thought, Namjoon coming from a rich family as well.

Nothing like Jungkook, but still.

Jungkook sits in front of you on the floor, and you immediately slide down from the couch to sit behind him so that he can lean against your chest. You wrap your arm around his dainty waist, smiling softly as you peck the top of his head.

He glances at you, eyes gleaming with happiness, and then resumes his conversation with Namjoon.

This, you think, is happiness. This is the kind of scene you see in movies when everything is resolved after a long journey. It’s a coming of age - your coming of age, despite the fact that you aren’t a teenager anymore. 

You just know that, when you’ll be old and grey and reminding yourself of your college days, this is what you’ll think of. Jungkook’s presence amongst your friends, the gentle ambiance of the snow outside, the smiles and the laughter and the music filling the air. Everything - you’ll remember everything with vivid clarity when it’s time to go, knowing that this moment, and all of those related to Jungkook and your friend group, have forged the person that you’ll become.

The thought brings tears to your eyes - happy tears - and you blink them away as you hug Jungkook tighter. He looks back at you again, smiling softly, light filling those big doe eyes of his that you’ve been in love with since a certain power outage.

To think that your whole relationship with him started because of that outage - where would you be now if it hadn’t been for that?

“What?” Jungkook asks softly. 

“I love you,” you reply.

He grins, that adorable bunny grin of his that steals your breath each time. “I love you too.”

You know it - it’s been a law of your universe since you ran back home that October night, when you realized that your love for him was far more important than your brother being upset with him.

In truth, you think your love for Jeon Jungkook might have been the reason why you were put on this Earth - your purpose, if you will. Like the Fates weaved your story with his, until one can’t exist without the other.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tuesday, December 24th

Christmas Eve has been fun. You’ve been laughing around with Taehyung, Ariane, Jungkook and your mother, sharing way too much food at the dinner table. Good food - your mother has always been a good cook, whenever she finds the time to actually come up with a meal. Jungkook helped her too, and you haven’t missed the approving glances your mother has been throwing him all evening.

Ariane has received her good shares of those too. You can tell your mother is happy for both you and Taehyung, which makes you feel bad that you initially thought it was good that she’s currently single.

She deserves love, too.

You’re in the bathroom, sometime after midnight, mind swimming with the eggnog drinks that your mother made for everyone, when your phone buzzes in the back pocket of the mom jeans you’re wearing. You pull it out, blinking a few times, and your gaze widens when you focus on the text message you’ve received.

Mostly, your heart falls to your ass when you see who texted you.

[00:24 am] Hobi: hey, merry christmas! just wanted to text to apologize for dipping in april? that sucked of me and yeah, it’s christmas so i thought it was a good time to apologize

You reread the message a few times, wondering if you’re the only one that’s received an apology. You highly doubt you’re the one that needed it after all, and when your phone buzzes again a few seconds later, with a text from Yoongi, you realize you’re not.

[00:24 am] Yoongi: you’ll never believe who just texted me

You slide your phone open, ignoring the conversation with Hoseok to head straight to the one with Yoongi. You type your reply, worrying at your bottom lip as you send it.

[00:25 am] You: i know the fuck he texted me too

[00:25 am] You: how are you feeling?

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away, and you decide not to reply to Hoseok either, instead stuffing your phone back in your back pocket before washing your hands. You return to the kitchen after, where everyone’s been waiting for you to play your turn in the game of Ticket to Ride you’ve started at midnight.

You can’t believe Hoseok texted you. It feels like a ghost coming back to haunt you, reminding you that you’d been friends with benefits, albeit on a break, this time last year. Perhaps that is why Hoseok chose to text you too - you meant something to him to a certain extent.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as you frown, trying to remember what it is you wanted to do in the game.

You blink once, meeting his gaze. “Yeah.” You nod, repeating the word, and then you pick up two green wagon cards.

Jungkook lets it slide, focusing on the game too, and you all but forget about Hoseok’s text when your mother gives you another eggnog drink. You finish the game a little while later - Ariane winning grandiosely - and then you all head to bed after wishing each other a last Merry Christmas.

Jungkook plops down on your childhood bed as you walk into your room, and you close the door, leaning against it as you smile fondly. He props his chin on his hands, looking at you. 

“Tonight was fun,” he says.

You nod, smile growing wider. “It really was. But wait until tomorrow, that’s where all the fun is.”

Indeed, you’re going to visit your grandparents’ house tomorrow evening, along with all of your uncles and aunts and cousins.  It’s tradition every year, and it’s the first time you’re bringing someone. You’d be a little anxious, if not for the fact that you know your grandmother is already obsessed with Jungkook from everything your mother told her.

“I can’t wait,” Jungkook says, and the soft curve of his lips tells you he means it.

You cross the distance between you, lying down on the bed next to him. Jungkook shifts, opening his arms for you to slide into his embrace, and he holds you tight, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mostly can’t wait to give you your gift tomorrow morning,” he adds, his mouth moving against you. He pulls away, rubbing his face to take out from his mouth the hair he clearly almost swallowed from talking against your head. “You’ll be so happy.”

“You really didn’t need to give me a gift,” you say.

“You think I haven’t noticed the suspiciously large box with my name on it under the Christmas tree?”

You shrug. “Maybe it’s from Taehyung.”

“It’s written from peach.”

You snort, laughing against his chest. “And what about it?”

“You’re allowed to get me a gift but I can’t get you one?”

You nod forcefully. “Yeah. You already got me that dress anyway.”

He laughs, rolling on his back. He pulls you with him until you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. “That was almost a year ago, it doesn’t count.”

“It does,” you mumble.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deeply in his chest. “You’re adorable, I love you.” He pecks the top of your head again. “Besides, what did you get me?”

“What did you get me?” you ask, gaze narrowed as you look up at him.

His next peck lands on your forehead. “Not telling you.”

“Well then, I’m not telling you either,” you smugly reply.

He laughs, tightening his hold around you. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and then it starts again on a wilder beat you hear echoed behind his ribcage.

“I love you too, Kook.”

“Luckiest man alive,” he whispers, and it’s rhetorical, not asking for a reply. 

All you do is grin as you start tracing idle shapes on his stomach. You fall silent - the kind of comfortable silence you can only share with him - up until you remember Hoseok’s text. It makes you prop yourself up on an elbow, and you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“You’ll never guess who texted me earlier.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Who did?” 

“Hobi,” you reveal.

Jungkook’s gaze widens. “The guy you used to fuck?”

You roll your eyes, pinching his side. “Yes. But mostly Yoongi’s… ex?”

“You did use to fuck though, I heard you guys.”

“Oh my God, Kook.”

He offers you a shit-eating grin. “What?”

“You’re annoying.”

He pulls you on top of him until you’re straddling him. “But you love me.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him. “But you’re annoying.”

His hands, now on your hips, tighten slightly, and your brain chooses this instant to zero in on the spot.

“Do you know how much it drove me crazy?” he says, and his voice is suddenly low, husky, shooting warmth right to your core. “I fucking wanted to beat his ass.”

You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as a smirk appears on your lips. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He forces you to circle your hips, and you’re not surprised to find him already getting hard. “I’d imagine it was me instead.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to smirk, and he sits up to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth once before he lies back down. “And then when I was fucking Shelly and you were touching yourself?”

You’re turning molten, like you’re metal melting in a forge. “Yeah?”

“That’s when I knew that whatever I’d promised to Tae didn’t matter anymore.” He grinds into you. “I needed to have you, one way or another.”

You crash your lips on his so hard you taste blood. He’s quick to slide his hands under your shirt, and he fumbles with the fabric until you part to allow him to take it off your body. You’re only wearing a red bralette you bought before finals, and Jungkook’s gaze darkens at the sight.

“Shit peach, you’re always so fucking hot.”

“One way or another, you say?” you repeat what he said earlier.

He looks confused for a heartbeat, and then he nods. “Yeah. I was into you already then, as you know, but damn every time I touched myself all I could think about was you.”

“Outrageous,” you tease as you circle your hips once more.

He grunts softly. “Oh, peach, don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of me too.”

You lean forward, sucking on his lower lip, your tongue then flicking at his piercings. “Oh, you know I was thinking about you,” you say against his mouth.

You move down enough to find his neck, your teeth teasing the skin before you suck on it, yet you refrain from leaving a mark.

You don’t want your mother asking questions tomorrow.

Jungkook grunts as you lick at the spot, and then move back up to nibble at his jaw. His large hands on your waist caress up your flanks until he reaches your breasts that he shamelessly cups, his fingers immediately searching for your nipples. He pinches them, hard enough to hurt, and you moan out loud, hiding your face in his neck.

“Careful, peach,” Jungkook warns. “We wouldn’t want your family hearing us.”

You bite at his neck again and he hisses. “What did you just say?”

“Fuck,” he groans, and it sounds like a growl. “Now I want to fucking ruin you.”

You straighten, your hands landing flat on his chest to hold him down. “Why don’t you let me have my fun tonight?”

His dark gaze surveys you carefully as you climb down his body until you’re sitting on his legs. You grip his thighs and then slide your hands up to his clothed erection. You run a hand along it and then move up to push his shirt up, revealing the strong muscles of his abdomen. You graze them with your nails, and Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as your other hand returns to his dick.

“How should I please you tonight?” you ask.

You lean forward and, unable to resist, you suck a hickey on the spot right above the hem of his pants. Jungkook instinctively bucks his hips in response, and you smirk as you sit back on your heels again.

“Someone’s impatient,” you tease.

“Peach…” he warns.

“Be nice,” you say. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He takes a sharp breath, and then nods curtly. You bite at your lower lip, a smirk teasing the corner of your lips.

“Good boy.”

He groans, but then you’re ridding him of his pants and boxers, and his dick springs free, slapping his abs. He looks just as pretty as he always does, the large vein running up his dick begging to be licked. You don’t even resist - you immediately bend down, tracing it with your tongue up to his tip, which you circle once before pulling away just enough to grab the base of his dick.

You stroke him slowly, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed with arousal, eyes shining with lust and desire, all of it for you. You feel powerful - you have him wrapped around your finger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s with that thought that you finally take him in your mouth, not breaking eye contact. He clenches his jaw to hold a moan in, and you take him as deep as you can, your eyes watering when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

You pull almost all the way out, hollowing your cheeks as you suck on his tip, teasing his frenulum with your tongue. His dick twitches, but you’re holding him tight, keeping him in place.

You get to work, bobbing up and down, drooling all over him. You use your drool as natural lube so that you can jerk him off in time with your motions, and Jungkook grows infinitely hard in your mouth, so much so that you wouldn’t be surprised if he came.

You wouldn’t mind - he always tastes good for you, and the thought of it is making you soak through your panties to the point you think your pants might even be affected. But then again, Jungkook always makes you so wet.

No one’s ever fucked you as good as him after all.

You take him all the way in, and Jungkook thrusts up, grunting as you moan around him. His hands are in your hair, and he’s been guiding your movements, though always allowing you to pull away to breathe when you need it.

So when you decide to pull away so that you can suck on his balls, he lets you do it. You reward him by jerking him off quickly, your grip tight on his dick just the way you know he likes, and he fists at the sheets of your bed, fucking into your hand.

Right before you think he’s about to come, Jungkook pulls you away. He’s panting heavily, and you barely have time to breathe before he flips you on your back, climbing on top of you so that he can kiss you. 

The kiss is ravishing, languid, all tongues and saliva and his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You barely can contain your moans when he drives your legs apart with a knee he then presses on your clothed core, and you can’t help but grind on his leg, searching for much-needed friction.

Jungkook leaves your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, and then on your clavicle. He sucks a purple mark underneath it, and you arch your back in his touch as he cups your breasts again, massaging them.

“Peach,” he says as he’s looking at your necklace where it lies between your breasts. “You’re so perfect.”

And then he’s pushing your bralette up enough to have access to your nipples. His mouth closes around one while he pinches the other between his thumb and index, and you lose your hand in his jet-black strands, pulling on his hair just a little by reflex.

His tongue circles your nipple, and then he licks at it twice. It hardens in his mouth as you hold your moans in, and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he shifts to your other nipple, offering it the same treatment.

“Take this off,” you breathe, pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Jungkook raises his head, meeting your gaze. His lips are glistening with his saliva, and he looks so devilish you think you’d be able to come just like that.

“Take it off for me,” he teases.

You roll your eyes despite your lips curving in a smile, and you pull his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. You rake your nails on his back - lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark - when he returns to your nipples, devouring your breasts like a man starved.

“I fucking love every part of you, you know that right?” he says when he pulls away.

You nod, but he’s already going down your body, reaching for your pants. He takes them off, and to your surprise, he takes your panties off too, leaving you naked and gleaming when he pushes your thighs apart to look at you properly.

“So pretty…” he praises.

You want to tell him to fuck you, that you don’t even need foreplay right now - you’ve been feeling your juices dripping out of your pussy for a while - but he doesn’t leave you time to speak, immediately diving in, lapping a large stripe from your entrance up to your clit. He swirls his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan.

“Silence, peach,” he reminds you, and then he circles your clit again. “I really don’t want your mother to look at me differently tomorrow morning.”

You don’t have anything left in your brain to say that she wouldn’t care, and maybe that’s good - you’re pretty sure she would, as a matter of fact, care.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

Jungkook shoots you a quick glance, and he pecks the inside of your thigh lovingly, miles away from the lust transpiring from this moment. “I love you,” he breathes against your skin, and then he’s back on your pussy.

He eats you out like he’s a demon come from hell, and soon enough he pushes two fingers inside of you, fighting against your tightening muscles. You take a deep breath to relax, and a few seconds later he arches his fingers, rubbing them on the most sensitive spot inside of you. It makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he starts fingering you, quick and hard, always rubbing your g-spot. He times his fingers with his tongue, and it’s no wonder he’s dragging you towards an orgasm at eighty miles per hour.

It’s no wonder it hits you like a slap to the face when he sucks on your clit hard, and your thighs close around his face as your back arches off the bed, your climax hitting so hard you feel like you’re swimming in the night sky, amongst stars and galaxies and nebulas.

You’re shaking, thighs trembling, as he milks your orgasm out for so long you think you’ll die, but eventually his fingers leave your pulsing walls, and he licks them clean. You watch him, your eyelids heavy with the ecstasy invading your bloodstream, and you feel fucked out, your mind like cotton as he positions himself between your legs.

“Have you had enough?” he asks, teasing your entrance with his cock. “Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You reach for him, fingers grazing his chest and abs. “Shit, Kook.”

He grins wickedly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeat. You chuckle lightly, and then you glance around. “I do want you to fuck me,” you whisper, “but my bed creaks a hell of a lot.”

Jungkook shrugs, picking you up in one swift motion that makes your mind swim even more. The room spins around you as Jungkook carries you off the bed, and then he sits you on the floor. He grabs a bunch of pillows, arranging them in a makeshift bed on the floor, and then he motions at it, a proud smile on his lips.

“Voilà,” he says.

You snort. “You’ll fuck me on this?”

He smirks, picking you up to lie you down on the pillows. It’s a little unsteady, but when he positions himself between your legs again, you forget all about it.

Even more so as he rubs his dick on your clit, and meteorites erupt in front of your eyes.

“Yeah I will,” he says. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

You gulp, your throat suddenly dry with arousal, and you nod your head. “Fuck me, Kook.”

He doesn’t need more to push in, and he sheathes all of himself inside of you. Or at least all that fits, and he’s quick to put a hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. You bite at his palm, and he startles, moving his hand away.

“That was mean,” he says, a pout appearing on his swollen lips.

Fuck, you love him so bad.

“Sorry,” you apologize.

He narrows his gaze, bending down to steal a quick, gentle kiss on your lips. “No you’re not,” he says.

“I’m not,” you agree.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just an inch of him in. “And for that reason, I’ll fuck you until all you remember is my name.”

He pushes all the way in again, and you bite your lip to refrain from crying his name out. It becomes much harder when he starts pounding into you, and soon your room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and of the squelching your pussy makes every time he fucks into you. It’s clearly loud enough for everyone in the apartment to hear, but faint music is coming from Taehyung’s room, and you know your mother sleeps with foam earplugs in.

You can only hope they don’t hear you when you moan Jungkook’s name. He gently rests his hand against your mouth again then, though he’s quick to push a finger in instead. You suck on it, teasing the pad with your tongue, and Jungkook grunts as he jack-hammers you, so much so you fall off the makeshift bed.

You both don’t care - you don’t even think Jungkook realizes. He’s too busy rearranging your gut, and you’re too busy trying to not moan like you want to do. Jungkook keeps at it for a while, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, but his pace remains unforgiving, a reminder that he has a solid cardio from all the hours he spends at the gym.

Eventually, Jungkook gets bored of the position, and he pulls out. You get a glimpse of his wet dick before he flips you on your stomach, and he’s quick to fuck into you again, the new angle so good you feel like you’re floating somewhere between your body and the ceiling.

His forearm is next to your head, and you hold onto his wrist as he pounds into you. You know he’s nearing his high when his motions grow unfocused, slower, and soon he bends down, grunting against the side of your face as he releases his load deep inside of you, painting you white.

You hold onto him as he comes, circling your hips to prolong his pleasure, up until he stops you with a hand on your waist. He pecks the side of your face, and you turn your head to be able to kiss him properly. It tastes like the sweat that’s collected on his upper lip, but you don’t care. Not when it’s his sweat, and you are so obsessed with him you wish you were under his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he pulls away from the kiss. 

He pecks your cheek again and then straightens to search for something to clean you up with. He reaches for the tissues on the night table, and he takes a bunch of them that he puts against you before he even pulls out.

You both manage to avoid making a mess, and Jungkook lets you go clean up first. You put on his shirt, as it’s long enough to be a dress on you, and then you head to the bathroom, where you take a quick shower. Jungkook goes next, kissing you deeply before leaving your room, and you wait for him under the covers of your bed, your heart still beating wildly from the sex.

As it always does when it comes to sex with Jungkook.

Jungkook comes back about five minutes later, and he slides under the covers with you as you’re on your phone, looking at the conversation with Yoongi.

He still hasn’t replied, and though that worries you, you know he’s probably just busy with his own Christmas celebration.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks as he molds himself to your back, an arm wrapping around your waist.

You turn on your back, going in for a soft kiss that settles your heartbeat in your chest. 

“Yes,” you reassure him. 

You glance at your phone again and then switch to the conversation with Hoseok. “I don’t know what I should say.”

Jungkook blinks a few times like he needs it to focus on your screen, and then he reads Hoseok’s message. “I mean…” he lets out. “He seems genuine.”

“I know, but it’s weird no?”

Jungkook purses his lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m with you now,” you explain.

His eyes widen. “Oh, is that because of what I said earlier?”

You nod, worrying at some dry skin on your lower lip.

“Oh, peach,” he says, and he pecks your forehead. “I really don’t mind if you want to reply. I was only teasing earlier.”

You cock an eyebrow, not entirely believing him. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Were you?”

“Well…” he trails off, turning on his back as he looks up at the ceiling. “I was jealous, yes. But as you said, he mostly is Yoongi’s ex. What you guys had hasn’t mattered for a really long time.”

He’s right. He’s entirely right, and it reassures you, enough so that you don’t feel guilty for replying to Hoseok, right before you decide to turn off your phone for the night.

[2:37 am] You: hey merry christmas! no worries:)

You put your phone away, and then you turn to face Jungkook, wrapping your arm around his dainty waist as he wraps his around you, one of his biceps a perfect pillow for your head. You sigh in contentment, knowing that you are right where you’re supposed to be in the world - by Jungkook’s side. 

Home, wherever he is.

You fall asleep with love in your heart, shining bright on you despite the dark, winter night outside.  

Monday, December 30th

The restaurant is crowded, lively chatter and clinking utensils filling the atmosphere with the type of life only the holidays can provide. Taehyung sits at the head of the table, a bright smile on his lips as your mother explains to Ariane and Jungkook how you come to this restaurant each year when there’s a special occasion.

By that, she means your and Taehyung’s birthdays, as you spend hers on the camping trip.

“We started when you were what?” your mother says, looking at Taehyung. “Fourteen?”

“Thirteen,” he answers. “We came with a bunch of friends from middle school, and Y/n was complaining the whole time.”

“I was not,” you say, pouting slightly. “You were just ignoring me the whole time because I wasn’t cool enough.”

“You really weren’t.” Taehyung’s teasing remark earns him a slap on the arm from your mother, and Ariane telling him to shut up. “What! She was just obsessed with One Direction, it was annoying.”

“And what about it?” Ariane says. “One Direction was a good group!”

Horror inches into Taehyung’s gaze. “Not you too.”

Ariane rolls her eyes, but then the waitress stops by your table, taking everyone’s order. An easy conversation follows, your mother telling you about interesting cases she saw at the ER over the last few months. Jungkook looks appalled when she mentions certain of them, his eyes about to bulge out of his head.

“You’re good?” you let out, patting his thigh reassuringly. 

“We’re supposed to eat after she’s told us all of that?” he asks, his widened gaze sliding to you.

You snort. “Yes, we are.”

He sits back in his chair, folding his arms on his chest. “Damn.” You just laugh even more, and he looks at you again. “It’s not funny!”

“It is,” you insist. “You’re adorable.”

He glares at you, though his eyes are gleaming with too much amusement for you to believe he means it. “So are you.”

“Right right,” you say, at the same time as Taehyung fake-gags. 

“You guys are disgusting,” your brother says. 

“And you think you’re better?” your mother intervenes. “You all should listen to him when he calls me and gushes about Ariane.”

Taehyung flushes red as Ariane leans towards your mother. “Oh? What does he say?”

“Namely that he thinks you’re the love of his life, and that he wants to marry…”

“Stop!” Taehyung interjects. “Fuck, mom, this is not necessary.”

He’s so red he looks like he might pass out, and you can’t help but laugh at his expense. “Don’t worry, Ari, he’s always been a hopeless romantic.”

“I’m not!”

Ariane laughs, and she rubs his back. “You are. I love that about you.”

Taehyung’s distressed features turn into a soft smile, and you roll your eyes teasingly. 

The rest of the dinner goes well, all of you eating your fill. Jungkook finishes your dish when you declare yourself defeated, and you speak with your brother without any animosity for the first time in months.

It’s relieving, far more than you would admit it. Or perhaps it’s because he’s invited you to the party one of his childhood friends is hosting, which he never did before. You know it’s because Jungkook is his closest friend now, but you still appreciate the invitation, and the party that comes with it.

Taehyung’s always partied the hardest surrounded by his friends, and tonight is no different. It’s a night of drinking and revelry and bright smiles, loud music to accompany the chatter and drinking games and everything that makes a party a good party. There’s a hot tub, and you and Jungkook spend far too long in it accompanied by Ariane, Taehyung and two of his other friends, taking turns rolling in the snow before jumping back into the hot tub.

The stars shine on and on above you all, and though it’s freezing outside you think they might allow you a piece of summer in the winter night.

You head home before Taehyung, walking hand in hand with Jungkook. You’re both tipsy, even maybe a little drunk, yet it doesn’t deter you. Not when the night is beautiful, and you have Jungkook next to you.

“I still can’t believe you got me that frame,” Jungkook says as he notices you looking up at the stars, your eyes going over the Orion constellation.

Indeed, you got him a star map of Valentine’s Day last year for Christmas. It’s beautiful, and Jungkook grew teary-eyed when you gave it to him, telling him that it was a map of the night you’d fallen in love. He promised he’d hang it in his room the second you returned to your apartment, and then he sheepishly gave you your gift.

Your reaction to his gift was… much less wholesome than his. You were outraged, telling him that he was crazy to spend so much money on you, and Jungkook just shrugged his shoulders, telling you you deserved it.

You still think he’s crazy. But over the last few days, he’s slowly convinced you that it’s going to be fun, that you truly do deserve the gift…

And who would say no to a trip to Bora Bora?

“I’m sorry,” you let out. “You fucking bought first-class plane tickets to go to Bora Bora. My gift looks like nothing compared to yours.”

“It’s not nothing!” Jungkook insists. “It’s the most sentimental gift I’ve ever received.” He smiles at you, his big doe eyes swimming with love for you. “It’ll forever be my favourite gift.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips upwards as your heart warms in your chest. “You deserve it,” you say, and you mean it.

Jungkook deserves every proof that people do love him. That his parents don’t know shit when it comes to him - you’ll try your best to shower him with all of the love your heart holds, every day of your life with him.

“And you deserve the trip,” Jungkook says. “You always work so hard in college, I just want you to relax for a while.”

“With you,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. 

“Obviously.”

He pulls you in, interrupting your walk, and he kisses your forehead softly. Your heart grows even warmer, so much so that you think flowers are blooming in your soul, like a garden bursting into life.

You get home together with him, your mother seemingly fast asleep in her room from the soft snores that come from behind her door. You make your way to your room, and Jungkook plugs in your old fairy lights, even though they’re so dim now you barely can make out anything.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says as he sits on your bed.

You sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “What for?”

“For everything,” he replies, and he wraps his arms around you to pull you into his chest. “Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“Oh, Jungkook…” you trail off, looking up to see the silver lining his gaze.

“I love you more every day, peach,” he whispers. “It’s… it’s a gift.”

You cup his cheek, tilting your head backwards as you pull him down. The kiss is soft, gentle. The kiss is everything that makes Jungkook Jungkook, and you you. It’s the months of struggle that led to so much beauty, it’s the knowledge that, wherever you’ll go in this life, he’ll be by your side.

It’s the knowledge that he’s the one for you, and you’re the one for him.

When you pull away from the kiss, what seems like an eternity later, Jungkook pulls out his phone from his pocket. You watch him curiously as the device lights up his features, and a second later, your room fills with the first chord of Chasing Cars.

Of your song.

“Cuddle?” Jungkook asks.

You can’t say no to those big, doe eyes, and you lie down with him, your head on his chest.

“You know,” Jungkook says when the first chorus starts. “Ever since you showed me this song, it’s been my favourite.” He pauses, pecks the top of your head. “Not that I didn’t know it before. But it makes me think of you now.”

Just like it makes you think of him.

“It does?” you let out.

You feel him nod more than you see him. “When I marry you, I want it to be the song we dance to.”

Your gaze widens, and you prop yourself up on an elbow so that you can look at him. And despite the dim light in your room, despite the blurriness in your gaze from the happy tears he summoned, his beauty shines for you. So bright, a proof that he’s the Sun in your life.

He’s the astral body you were meant to orbit.

“When you marry me?”

His arm tightens around you. “Yes, when I marry you.”

You smile, brighter than a summer day. “You’ll be my husband.”

“And you’ll be my wife.”

You laugh, a crystal clear sound that heals whatever wounds were left from the months apart. From that night Taehyung punched him and kicked him out. From every time you thought that your timing didn’t align and that maybe you weren’t meant to be in this universe.

But you are. You’ve always been meant to be, haven’t you?

“Let’s start by calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, shall we?”

He pouts. “M’kay, then. Girlfriend.”

Another laugh tumbles from your lips, and you put your head back on his shoulder. He runs a soothing hand on your back, while you trace random shapes on his chest, and you think this is it.

This is a moment that will be forever engraved in your memory, to look back on whenever you have a bad day. A first moment - though it’s hardly the first - of a long line of events that will make up the story of you and Jeon Jungkook.

The song reaches its last chorus, and your heart, beating in sync with Jungkook’s, reaches the nirvana of you and him.

If I lay here 

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

And you think, perhaps your story was already written in between the lines of your favourite song - a story of resilient love, and of promises of forever. Perhaps it was written between the first verse and the chorus, or perhaps it was written in the melody. It’s hard to tell - you just know it’s become a law of your universe. 

Now, you’ll lie with Jungkook, and maybe you’ll even forget the world. It’ll just be him, forever.

And you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing cars around his head.

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

I am so emotional please do not touch me :') I can't believe this story is over. I hope you guys loved the ride - let me know what you think about this last chapter <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[k-hotchoisan]

touch and sketch

<jongho x fem!reader>

stuck with an artist’s block, Jongho’s friend introduces you to be his model for his project, which ends up introducing a whole whirlwind of problems, especially when you're modelling nude for him, and he realises how pent up he is on top realising how attracted he is to you.

Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, artist jongho (bc he’s the only who can actually draw 😭), nude modeling for art, perverted! Jongho who’s actually pent up, unprotected sex, sexual tension, kinda fluff?, oral (m receive), tit/nipple licking, masturbation, blowjob, cumming on garment, cream pie, Wooyoung is lowkey a wingman, bathrobe is a paid actor

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷stay perverted: the masterlist

The back of Jongho's wooden pencil taps against his sketch book. The page has faint lines of messy sketches, erased over and over again. Eraser dust is scattered all over his desk, especially around his notebook. Jongho sighs, dropping his pencil, where it rolls into the crook of the notebook before he gets up to grab his third cup of coffee. Artist's block is a common occurrence, but this came at the wrong fucking time. Not when he has deadlines to meet.

He glances over at the large blank canvas propped up on the easel. It doesn’t help that his model bailed last minute because something came up. Now he’s left uninspired, without a model, and a shit ton of piling works to submit before the month ends. Sure, two and a half weeks sounded long, but for an artist? It’s almost a death sentence with the amount of work sketches he needs to come up with, let alone the large glaring canvas serving a reminder that his final piece is due altogether.

Knocking from the studio door echoes in the room, snapping Jongho out of his thoughts and worries, at least for the time being. There is a pause before the door pushes open, Wooyoung’s head peeping from the door.

“Hyung”, Jongho greets, settling his mug onto the table, rubbing his hands on the fabric of his trousers. Wooyoung’s eyes are bright, and he looks like he has something to tell Jongho, and he hopes that it’s good news.

“I’ve got good news for you, buddy”, Wooyoung says, dragging a stool to sit beside his junior. “I found a replacement model.”

Jongho’s tired eyes suddenly lighten up. Fuck, there’s hope. Maybe he can wing this shit especially when one of his worries has been elevated by a whole ton.

“How?” Jongho asks, his fingers idly twirling the pencil.

“I’ve got my ways. You owe me dinner, bro”, Wooyoung smiles, patting Jongho’s back gently. “But you can do that when you’re done with your submissions.”

Jongho has never felt relief this large like the ocean, washing over him over and over again. He feels like he can breathe once more. He looks up at Wooyoung, his eyes reflecting a glint of hope of completely escaping his hell.

“Thank you, Hyung. I really am eternally grateful for you”, Jongho sighs, dropping the pencil back to the desk as Wooyoung snatches his phone to enter the model’s number into Jongho’s phone.

Wooyoung dons his signature smile before he heads for the door. He pauses for a moment before he turns to Jongho.

“She’ll come in tomorrow. Don’t scare her off okay?”

Jongho scoffs at Wooyoung’s words, but he nods before he waves Wooyoung off, then going back to his empty sketch book, attempting to drown in his work once more, hopefully with an ounce of progress this time at least.

You glance down at the message from the number Wooyooung passed to you the day before. He told you he had a friend who needed a model for his art finals, and that he was pretty desperate because his previous model cancelled on him. You didn’t think much of it, considering that you did help a couple of your close friends to model for their art finals too, and accepted without much thought.

“He’s a polite guy, but he’s a little shy. Don’t bite him okay?” Wooyoung reminded you, receiving a soft smack to his arm from you in response.

You look up at the art studio, double checking the signage before knocking on the door.

There’s silence. You furrow your eyebrows and knock again after a few seconds.

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door before the door pulls open to reveal a boy with glasses that sit loosely on the bridge of his nose. His cheeks are chubby, and his whole demeanour reminds you of a…bear? Something about him looks so cuddly. But he looks like a mess—his brunette hair tousled, his eye bags are slightly prominent, and it makes you wonder how much this poor dude has been slaving away for his work.

You force a smile. “Hey! I’m y/n. You’re Choi Jongho right?”

Jongho blinks before it seems like a lightbulb has gone off in his head. His eyes slightly brightens up, and he shifts a little to let you into his studio.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. Thank you for accepting such a last minute thing. I’ll compensate you once I’m done”, Jongho greets, shutting the door behind him.

You take a step into the studio, taking in the small and cluttered space. Canvases and easels stands take up space on the floors and corners, different types of papers, pens, brushes and palettes covering the desk. There is a couch in the middle of the room, probably for the model, dusted clean, with a large piece of fabric hastily draped over the piece of furniture.

He plants himself on the roller chair before he turns to you, gesturing to you to sit on the couch, and you take the offer, trying to relax against the fabric beneath you.

“So”, Jongho begins, flipping a smaller notebook open, scanning through the bullet points he wrote. “I need you to come in quite often for the next two weeks, at least until I’m done with this, so I’ll have to trouble you a bit.” You shake your head reassuringly.

“No worries, I’m done with my finals, so I’ve got time to spare.”

Jongho nods, and he starts with briefing you on the details of the schedule, and he pauses at the final bit. He seems hesitant.

“…And for this piece, I need you to model nude”, he finally says. Then he looks up. “Are you okay with that?” You see pink tint dusted at the tips of his ears, but his expression remains firm. But he continues, his gaze switching back to his moleskin-esque looking notebook, “this one is gonna take the longest because as you can see”, his hands gestures to the large, blank canvas that sat in the middle of the studio, “it’s definitely going to take awhile.” He’s done, and you see his fingers fidgeting with the dangling ribbon of his notebook.

“Sure. Do we get started now? We should right?”, you respond, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips, watching hints of relief flood Jongho’s expression as he relaxes slightly. “I’ll compensate you well, I promise”, the male artist sighs in relief.

Of course, he doesn’t have you model nude immediately. He doesn’t want to scare you off, not when he knows how fucking difficult it is to get a model, let alone someone to model nude for him. But he has you do simple poses, poses that he manages to transfer into gorgeous sketches in his sketch book that he feels relief in seeing filled up. It’s amazing to see Jongho at work—how he’s concentrated at fixing your poses at the smallest angles and movements, and how he’s able to replicate real life into drawings. It was almost like magic.

You take a small sip of coffee that Jongho made for you as you watch the pencil in his fingers make rough, yet confident strokes on the paper, all of it coming together.

You observe that he’s rather quiet for the most part, or maybe he’s just absorbed in his own works. So from time to time, you would talk to him, sometimes making coffee for him in between sessions, which Jongho is definitely grateful for. Undoubtedly, he slowly starts to open up, on top of making progress on his assignments. If anything, you thought it was nothing short of attractive Jongho looked when he was fully focused onto his crafts.

The sixth day is when he gives you a head’s up to start modelling for him in nude. By then, the both of you were more comfortable with each other, especially spending quite a bit of time in close proximity, not to mention, despite his seemingly cool demeanour, Jongho was a very easy person to get along with.

“Have you done this before?” Jongho asks, as he sifts through large canvases, looking for the one that is perfect. “Yeah, a couple of times”, you reply, squeezing the bathrobe in your arms.

“I’ve drawn the curtains and locked the door. You can remove your clothes behind the folding screen there”, he points over before going back to setting up his charcoals onto the easel.

It doesn’t take you long to walk out from behind the folding screens in a bathrobe, and Jongho is still setting up his canvas. He looks over when he hears your footsteps growing closer, then gestures to the couch, now with a large piece of white silk fabric draped over. “You can get ready over there”, he instructs.

You drop the robe, letting it hang over the couch as you get yourself comfortable on the furniture. You shiver slightly at the cold breeze from the ceiling fan, and well, also because you were currently naked.

When Jongho is finally done with setting up, his attention turns to you, and he’s rooted to the ground for a good few seconds as his eyes wander all over your body and your pretty little features, and for a moment, his breath is caught in his throat.

Here’s the thing, Jongho has had models model nude for him—both men and women. He’s not phased, because that’s just part of what he needs to do—capture anatomy at it’s rawest form and sketch them onto his papers. But then, here’s the thing—he suddenly cannot seem to focus when his eyes are on you.

“So, how should I pose, Mr Artist?” You ask with a small smile on your face, snapping him out of his little thoughts. Jongho looks pretty flushed—you notice the tips of his ears are growing slightly red, but he walks over where you are.

“If you don’t mind”, he asks, and you shake your head, holding your breath when you feel his warm touch against your bare skin as he gently positions you.

“Lie down for me and face the canvas. I’ll position your arms and legs for you”, Jongho says. You let yourself rest on the plush couch, and you feel Jongho’s hands all over you once more, resting under your ams as he positions it on the couch. Your eyes follow his movements, noticing how he would glance past your chest, but then pause when he has to touch your lower body. The red at the tip of his ears is starting to flush his entire ear by now. His fingers brush against your thighs, and you try not to fidget too much, and hope he doesn’t feel the goosebumps he’s giving you. Jongho manages to position your legs the way he wants them to look before he hastily gets up and scurries back to the canvas.

“I might need you to stay like that, at least until I’m finished with the rough sketch. Could you hold on for me until then?” He asks, his eyes slowly trailing down your whole body, trying to keep the image in his head.

“I’ll try my best”, you reply with a smile.

Jongho tries his best to keep his thoughts at bay, at least, until he finishes the sketches. He lets his hands do the magic, the graphite pressing against the canvas as the quick strokes begin taking shape.

The process definitely took awhile, and you were grateful that Jongho positioned you in a pose where it was relatively comfortable, at least. The both of you would have small conversations in between, and it definitely helped ease the tension. When Jongho’s head would peek out from the side of the canvas, you would internally giggle to yourself, thinking how much he looks like a little bear looking for food.

Although the first day of the nude modelling went well, for some reason, Jongho can’t seem to get you out of his head, well your body, specifically. The touch of your skin still burns on his, and he barely is able to shake off the growing tension in his body. He slaps his cheeks.

Few more days, Jongho. Just a few more days.

The following days go by, not with their own problems—not with the art piece though, thankfully, but with you. The more he stares at you, the more he can’t seem to get his mind out of the gutter. Each passing day he thought he would grow more used to looking at your bare body, but apparently not, because his cheeks would heat up whenever he’s shading or blending, especially nearing your chest and thighs, when he has to look over, his gaze lingering a little too long, at the same time, thinking about how ridiculous he feels about this. Jongho mentally slaps himself, and forces his attention back to the canvas, his shading already halfway done.

But as his glances continue to stay longer on you, the sudden thought of his fantasies bubble up right at that moment—the way you’re writhing underneath him, taking his thick cock inch by inch on the couch that you were supposed to be modelling on, his bare skin against yours. His mind begins to float at the expressions you would make, the things you would say, and his grip on his charcoal tightens.

Jongho pauses there, his mind swimming in the depths of sin, his charcoal paused in mid air. His erection is pressing against his cargo pants. He internally curses, thankful that the canvas is big enough to hide whatever embarrassment he’s holding right now.

As the drawing slowly blooms on the canvas, you could take more frequent breaks in between sessions. At first, you’d wear the bathrobe fully, but as you slowly become more comfortable, you wouldn’t even tie the bathrobe, letting your nipples peek through the large opening, and boy, did that sometimes send Jongho’s head spinning when you’re teasing him like that.

Everything seems to almost snap during another one of your breaks, you quietly walk over to Jongho’s side, your bathrobe only draping over your shoulders watching him blend out the charcoal. The smell of your body soap hits him and floods all of his senses, and Jongho stills, his mind completely surrounded by you.

And that’s when realises his cock is rock hard, and that you are standing just over his shoulder, barely covered.

“I really like your art style”, you compliment, your eyes tracing the lines. You lean in forward, and your hand presses against his shoulders to balance yourself, followed by your body weight. All Jongho can do is force a smile while his heart is beating a hundred miles an hour.

When you leave few hours later, Jongho stays behind to finish and clean up. He doesn’t know how he was able to pull through the rest of the session with an erection just pressing painfully against his pants, but the moment he goes to the couch to collect the bathrobe, he cracks. The smell of you lingers on the piece of garment and Jongho feels like he’s about to fucking burst. He slides his bottoms off, including his underwear, letting his wet cock sit heavily against his abdomen with a relieved sigh.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this.

Lifting the garment to his nose, your smell completely engulfs him, and his hand is on his cock, giving it a couple of pumps, soft groans leaving his lips. His hips buck into his hand, desperate to speed up while day dreaming about you between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head, looking up at him with fluttered lashes, then slowly pulling out, agonisingly slow that it drives Jongho crazy, before you pump him and let him cum all over your bare tits.

Jongho’s hips jerk, accompanied by a whine at that imagery. He fucking swears you look ethereal bare like that, but his cum on you? He thinks you’ll look like the perfect masterpiece. The bathrobe falls slightly, and drapes over his cock, and Jongho decides to fuck his hand over the garment, while still letting himself go drunk over your smell.

“Y/n, fuck. Deeper. Oh gods”, His mind slowly growing more hazy at the thought of you doing things to him. Before he knows it, a pleasured whimper slips past his lips, his eyes rolling back, the lewd sounds of his cock being fucked by his hand grow louder, more faster and more wetter, as his orgasm bubbles over, warm and thick all over the bathrobe.

He’s fucked.

The next day, Jongho is completely in a blur, but he’s almost done, much to both his relief and dismay, mostly because he wants to see you more often. The sinful act he committed lingers freshly in his mind, and the slight of you wearing the bathrobe, loose over your body, when he just cummed on it the night before (although he still washed it), has his cock jump in his pants again. He internally prays for the session to go quickly, or smoothly at least, because he doesn’t know how much more he can take.

On your break, you stand behind him again, watching him skilfully use his fingers to blend out the charcoal, his movements growing slower at your scent once more.

“Oh, that means you’re almost done, aren’t you?” You ask, your sides leaning onto him, only separately by the useless garment hugging you loosely.

“Yeah. It’s just a little more blending and we can wrap up”, Jongho manages to reply. He doesn’t catch you taking one of the charcoal. He doesn’t catch you with that playful stare while you slightly stain your hands with it. And he definitely doesn’t catch your playful intentions when you smudge your fingers against his face, a stroke of charcoal that streaked down his cheek while he blinks in utter shock. He glances up at you with a pout before hastily getting off his chair.

A wide smile spreads over your face before you giggle and run away, with Jongho giving chase after you.

“Come back here!”, he yells playfully, chasing you around the studio, which only makes you giggle even more. “That was rude as hell, y/n!”

His hands manage to grab your wrists, and you’re pinned onto the couch, the bathrobe sliding off your shoulders, all the way down your arm. Jongho is just inches above you, panting slightly from chasing you.

“Caught ya”, he presses his hands on your face, streaking a charcoal stain down your cheek as well, for payback, reflecting your smile before it completely disappears. You stare back at him breathlessly, your eyes lowering to his lips before shifting back to his eyes.

He slowly lets go of your wrists, his hands sliding to your jaw. Your arms hug his neck, and before you realise it, Jongho’s lips are soft and wet against yours, parting your lips to let his tongue swipe your bottom lip. A soft groan is pulled from you as he tugs gently against your bottom lip, feeling slick slowly puddling from the arousal. Jongho’s hands slide down to your thighs, pushing them open while his lips keep yours occupied, his mind slowly blanking out.

When the both of you pull back, you can’t help but relish at the way Jongho still looks so fucking good even after that steamy make out session. He looks starved, and so pent up, even more evident when you feel the hardness of his cock just pressing onto your thigh through his pants.

You press your bare leg against his erection, and Jongho lets out a whimper.

“Let me help you with that”, you offer, shifting so that it was Jongho on the couch. You tug at the waistband of his shorts, and his cock comes into view, as heavy as it was the night before, transparent fluids coating the tip of his length.

His breathing grows more ragged, because he can’t believe that this is happening.

“So fucking pretty”, you smile, before sticking your tongue out, giving licks from the base to the top, sending Jongho’s mind into a complete frenzy. “How long have you been pent up like this, babe?”

Babe. Jongho’s breath is caught in his throat. “Awhile”, is all he manages to answer, his abdomen flexing from the way you’re stroking him with your hands.

You don’t give him any warning before pushing your head down, letting your mouth cover the entirety of his cock, letting it hit the back of your throat. Jongho’s knuckles are growing white from how hard he’s gripping the silk fabric on the couch, his other hand tugging at your scalp.

“F-fuck. Don’t stop. Please. It feels so fucking good”, he whimpers, slowly turning into a sob, his hips fucking into your mouth. You pull back slowly, letting him watch his cock emerge from your mouth, wet and sticky with a coy smile.

“Feels better than in your little fantasies, doesn’t it?”

Jongho’s eyes widen, and he swallows hard. Fuck.

You don’t even give him a chance to respond, taking his full cock into your mouth once more, this time, bobbing your head, feeling him fill up your mouth whenever you take him in once more. Jongho’s mind is completely gone, his head is resting against the backing of the couch, eyes rolled back in complete bliss.

He barely comes back to reality when you finally slow down and pull back, thick fluids of his precum and your spit link your mouth to his cock before you lick them away. You give his pretty cock a couple more pumps before you sit up to straddle his thighs, letting Jongho undress you completely (although there wasn’t much to undress anyway), leaving the bathrobe somewhere on the couch.

You inch forward, capturing his lips with yours once more, taking his hands to roam around your bare skin, letting his warm touch linger. Jongho lifts your hips, barely hovering over his cock, and he pushes you down slowly, his eyes locked onto you—eating up your fucked out expression as you’re spilt open by him from below as his cock pushes past your hole. He swallows hard again when his cock is seated warmly in your cunt, taking your breast to his mouth, his tongue swirling gentle circles over and over to distract himself from cumming too early. Drool seeps past the corner of his lips, his mind dizzy at how you’re so warm and just squeezing him so fucking perfectly. He switches to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, absolutely drunk on the way you’re moaning his name, your hips lifting slightly before he’s seated in you to the hilt.

“So fucking deep babe”, you sigh, keeping your eyes locked onto Jongho, who only pulls you into another deep kiss before he says, “we can go deeper.”

You blink at him, and this time, it’s his turn to stop you from responding when his hands roam to your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, letting your cunt swallow his cock even more, before making you bounce on his cock while you hug him.

“That’s it. All the way, baby”, he encourages right into your ears, ignoring the profanities spewing out of your mouth.

The sounds of wet skin only echoes louder in the closed studio, you only pray that no one walks past or tries to rattle the damn door knob. Well, not that you could do anything about it.

“Too much, Jongho-“ you choke, feeling his cock dragging against your soft walls, “I’m gonna-“

“Go on, let it go”, he encourages once more, making sure every time he sinks into you, you fucking feel him pressing against your sensitive spots.

Jongho holds your thighs down, his vision completely focused onto, watching you fall apart on his cock, fluttering so fucking nicely against his length as stars overtake your vision, and cream coating his cock when he pulls out, only to rut back into you.

“You’re so fucking pretty, y/n. Even the canvas can’t capture your glow”, Jongho confesses, feeling himself reach his limit. His eyes are shut, and he buries his head against the crook of your neck. You feel yourself flush at his words.

“I’m gonna cum, y/n. I can’t take it. Feels so good”, Jongho mutters, eyes glazed, looking up at you once more, his grip around you tightening. Your fingers comb back his locks, and with a smile, you reply, “you’ve earned it, baby.”

He falls apart, flooding thick and warm cum into your pussy, his breathing uneven and his mind spinning. Oh god, he can’t think.

As the both of you come down from your high, Jongho still has his head nuzzled against your neck, giving soft kisses from time to time as he softens in you.

“Don’t you need to finish your piece?” You ask, slotting your hands into the sleeves of the bathrobe as Jongho holds it behind your back.

“Yeah, I’m almost done. If it wasn’t for someone who decided to smudge charcoal onto my face”, he teases, and you laugh in reply. “Give me fifteen minutes, then we can have dinner together.”

The mess the both of you made was the least of your concerns, because Jongho scored a distinction on said piece anyway, and evidently, you’ve become his favourite muse, and he turned to be your favourite artist.

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.