#that no one else wanted to be friends with

[okwonyo]

ONLY YOU, MY GIRL ★ only you, babe.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝟏𝟕𝟏𝟏𝒾──── enhypen 𝗑 f!rea ✿ fluff 𓂋 kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡ ⠀

𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦

HEESEUNG

holds your bag for you. he is always ready to do anything and everything for his sweet angel. when you go out together, he doesn’t want you to be bothered by your bag, especially if you are holding stuffs as well. therefore, in the proof of his devotion of you, he holds your bag whenever you are out. it has came to the point where he chooses his outfit that matches with the bag you are wearing that day.

take care of your appearance. not that you need to have anything changed about it. however, whenever he notices that your shirt is put in a weird way or when you have one of your eyelashes that fell onto your eye, it his mission to take the matter into his own hands. his favorite thing to do is to tuck a wild hair strand behind your ear when your hair is up in a cute ponytail.

shuts up as soon as you tell him. listen, what else can he do, really? heeseung tends to be very flirty, very chatty. you tend to get shy so easily. and when he starts to tease you with his flirting, your first reflex is to be a tad mean to him. “heeseung, shut up, i will hit you,” you tell him, pushing him away from you weakly. your tone is cold, yet the man giggles like a teenager and does shut up immediately.

JAY

praises you all the time. he can’t control it. he notices so much things about you— and he is always in awe of everything that you have, everything that you do. sometimes he praise you for the bare minimum, for eating lunch or taking a nap. he likes to pat your head ever so gently without ever forgetting to add, “good girl,“ and a kiss on your forehead while you blush.

puts on your shoes for you, even if you insist that you don’t need to. your boyfriend’s chivalry goes over the roof and he feels the uncontrollable need of always taking care of you. therefore, when you get ready to go out and he notices your shoes in your hands, he is quick to snatch them away from you and get on one knee. you always laugh at him, assuring that he doesn’t need to. “but i want to.”

doesn’t let you pay for anything. it’s really the first thing you noticed about him. at your first date, he payed for the dinner while you went to the bathroom. he did it at the second, the third and at every date you had since then. his habit extended to daily life; his card is the one registered on every shopping site you like, he slides it in your purse whenever you tell him that you want to go shopping and he buys even the smallest thing you mention.

JAKE

walks on the roadside. of course, he know basic gentleman actions. when you walk on the sidewalks, he makes sure that he is always walking on the side next the cars, the roadside. he doesn’t know why, it’s just a sense of urgency, an alarm that goes off, an unspoken rule. he slides his hand on your waist whenever you are walked where you are not supposed to, he moves to the side, “stay there, my love,” he tells you.

brings you breakfast in bed. it’s a lovely habit of his that you are always so surprised to witness. every few weeks, jake’s soft lips place kisses on your skin in the hope of waking you up. nothing new, that’s how he usually gets you out of slumber. but when you open your eyes, he has your pink apron on and proud smile on his face, “good morning, princess. i bring you breakfast.”

let’s you sit on his lap. he doesn’t let you, he actually wants you to be there very much. it makes him smile, whenever there is plenty of room, many seats where you can sit— even right next to him. yet, you decide to sit on his lap every single time. jake let’s you, without complaining. even if he is holding something in his hand or if he is busy talking to a friend. his girlfriend wants to sit? he’s eager to serve her.

SUNGHOON

lifts you up as much as you want it. your boyfriend is strong, stronger than anyone you have ever known. he can pick you off the floor without any effort needed. most of the time, the worlds doesn’t need to leave the barrier of your lips, he just knows. he holds you bridal style, like the princess you are to get up those stairs. he is happy to hop you over his shoulder to go to bed when you are too lazy to walk. a eyelashes bat is all it takes to get a piggyback ride out of him.

he is always so gentle with you. it is something so subtitle yet so important. your lover, despite his impressive frames and sculpted muscles is the most gentle person you have ever know. he holds your so softly, as if you were the most fragile porcelain doll he has ever seen. he takes you in his arms, presses you against his chest when he hugs you with such a care that it makes you want to cry everytime.

gives you the first bite of his food. it’s natural to him, when his food is served— when his dishes his different from yours— he takes his spoon, takes a bit of what is in his plate and guides it to your mouth. it’s not that he absolutely needs your opinion on it, although it’s better, he just feels like you should always have the first bite of his food: because he loves you that much.

SUNOO

gives you his jacket. he has seen many movies before; about a lot of different subjects, and about romance especially. he has seen that scene where the man gives his jacket to the woman he likes when she is cold. when he does it for you, when he takes off his precious jacket to drape it on your shoulder, he understands why it’s such a romantic gesture. loving you enough to know when you are slightly cold is his favorite thing about himself.

he hugs you when you are embarrassed. sunoo finds it adorable, how easy it is to tease you, how simple it is to make you shy. he is not a the type to tease, he never was, but there is something about the way you blush whenever he gets too playful for your heart. he especially adores when you hide your face in the crook of your neck out of shyness and he is alway happy to welcome you in his arms.

helps you take off your coat or shoes. he is surprised by his own actions— acting like such a knight in shining armor is something new to him. yet, it becomes one of his habit so naturally. whenever you come back home, he is quick to get behind you and take your coat off your shoulders as you sigh heavily. he even gets on his knees to help you take off your shoes. his reward is getting kissed by such a sweetheart like you.

JUNGWON

holds the umbrella for you. “babe,” he says, his nose facing the sky. his eyes squint as he feels droplets on his skin. he is always so fast to open his umbrella, as if he knew the weather like the back of his hand, “come here.” he tells you, although he is already holding the umbrella above your head. you tell him to get under it too, but he refuses, claiming that there is not enough space for the both of you.

brings you flower. jungwon is a little extra, perhaps. he doesn’t send your favorite flowers to wherever you may be at the moment. he goes out of his way to be able to give them to you in person, in the utmost need of seeing your smile when you receive them and to feel the joy that your lips on his own makes him feel.

his first priority is you. you are aware that your boyfriend’s life is full, that he is a very wanted and wanted man. never you have excepted for him to put anything but his work the priority in his life— which is why you are always taken aback when he proves you otherwise. he is alway there for you. whether you are sick or just feeling a bit down, he puts everything on the side to be there for you. “i’ll be home in a few, sweetheart, wait for me.”

RIKI

let’s you put cute things in his hair. if there is one thing he dislikes, it’s definitely pink. he doesn’t really know since when it started, but he doesn’t like that color anymore. but if there is one thing he likes, loves even, the it’s you—therefore, yes, he lets you put your sanrio hair clips and pink ribbons in his hair. he keeps them until you tell him he can take them off, and honestly, he is starting to like these in his hair.

goes shopping with you. when you bring your boyfriend to your shopping session, you pretty much just drag him all around the mall as much as you want. during your shopping spree, he is destined to do a lot of things; such as being a tester for the makeup, the perfume and the skincare. he doesn’t mind doing all of these stuffs honestly, because he gets to be with you. he serves you with all his heart, his hands full of your snacks and shopping bags.

shares his jewelry with you. riki values his dressing a lot, as the fashion lover he is. and the favorite thing about making an outfit is adding accessories. he cherishes his jewels a lot and you admire his collection the most. of course, he knows how much you like his rings, it’s obvious whenever you stare at his hands. “give me your hand,” he chuckles, taking off one of the rings on his hand. he slides it on your finger with a sweet smile. “now, we match.”

분지 ܃ i’m very tired so this is um.. but i hope you still enjoyed and i will try to post something better soon 💌

© 𝖮𝖪𝖶𝖮𝖭𝖸𝖮 ୨୧ 𝟐𝐎𝟐𝟓 ── taglist open 。

[alchemistc]

Post finale crack treated seriously. Ravi "Who's Tommy" Panikkar stirring shit up for his new friend.

red string

"You know you guys are like, weirdly interconnected, right?" Ravi asks, like Buck hasn't spent the last ten minutes admitting he doesn't know how to reach out to Tommy.

"How would you know?"

Ravi has the grace to look a little squirrelly for half a second. "Okay so I know a lot of people at the LAFD. Because of the Academy stint. And - well, a lot of them know I own rentals."

"Thanks for letting me do month to month, by the way."

"Yeah you sure did remind me that you saved my life a bunch of times before I agreed to that. I had to send in a special request with the company that runs that apartment building."

"Your life is way more important than a special request, Ravi."

Ravi looks like he has something else to say about that, but.

"You're veering off the point. I'm trying to tell you you two have like, a weird red string thing going on and it's kind of driving me crazy that you won't just figure it out and go live in his house month to month until you figure out your crap and like, elope like the crazy people you are."

Buck takes a second to let that sink in. "Have you been asking all your LAFD buddies about Tommy and me?" His narrowed eyes don't seem to have the same effect as Hen's. Ravi stares back at him like he's making a stupid face.

"In my defense, I did try to ask you but you spent weeks trying to find a way to pull his pigtails."

He's not touching that with a ten foot pole. Nice ammo for when he gets home, though. "So you, what, put together an itemized list of reasons we should be together?"

"Gross. No. I gossiped, like a normal person."

"Lists are important, Ravi."

"If you don't do something on your own I'll get his number from one of the guys at Harbor I know and tell him about all the baked goods you foisted on me for two solid months after he dumped you. And about all the pining I've had to put up with since -."

"Evan. Hey."

Buck is the sort of person who always wants to play it cool and never quite manages. The table jumps when he cracks his knee against it.

And there he is, in all his glory. Date night chic, four buttons undone, hair perfectly tousled, probably that aftershave that always made Buck want to live in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"And that's my cue," Ravi says, and does a terrible approximation of a wink as he scoots out of the booth. "This is a setup. I set you both up. Tommy, this beer is yours, please sit. Don't make me do this a third time."

And then he's gone.

Tommy slides in, and it's familiar in a way that Buck doesn't enjoy.

Ravi reappears. "I already had his number, that was a decoy because I saw him walking in. Please, for the love of God, talk this time."

They stare at each other for a long, long time. Tommy has this way of looking at him that always makes Buck feel like he could run through a brick wall. Like Tommy would take care of him after even though it was a dumb thing to do. Like Tommy would thank him for the opportunity to take care of him.

"So Ravi has a theory," Tommy says, after they've taken their fill of staring in silence.

"I kept interrupting him but it kinda sounded like he's been spending way too much time dissecting our lives."

Tommy's smile lights up this dingy sports bar like nothing else. "Kinda reminds me of you, if I'm honest."

"He doesn't even like spreadsheets, Tommy."

"God, I love you."

It's a terrible place to start.

It's an excellent way to keep going.

[cheftsunoda]

no im not in love — ln4

smau

lando norris x !best friend singer reader

yn and lando have been best friends for years— they have also spent those years doing things that ‘best friends’ don’t. morning cuddles, stealing kisses, sleeping together, getting jealous when the other is spotted with someone else. yn releases a song and fans pick it apart…noting it to be about lando. will this cause the two to finally admit that they love each other?

obviously based of the tate songgg

fc : madison beer and various pinterest girlies

⚠️not proofread! slight angst, gets a tiny bit steamy, blah blah⚠️

draft for yall while I proofread and fix part 4 of heal your heart

—

“swear im only sleeping at your house— six times in one week— cause its convenient.”

f1gossipgirls

248,275 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Singer YN LN leaving Lando Norris’ place six days in a row this week — coincidence or something more? The longtime best friends, who’ve known each other since their early teens, have fueled romance rumors for years. With this kind of consistency, fans are wondering if the ‘just friends’ label still applies…

—

username00 : lando! blink if your in love

username10 : she is always there…I don’t think this is out of the ordinary for them. she always pops up in his streams so we kind of know she is there

username5 : he was seen at a restaurant with magui last week too so idk

username7 : 6 days…in a row…this is more consistency than I have with my own employer

username17 : me pretending to be shocked while I’ve had a wedding pinterest board for them since 2019

username20 : the greatest situationship of our generation

username22 : that man is in love I will not elaborate

—

“are you coming over later?” lando asked over the phone and i chuckled to myself.

“i might as well move in at this point,” i said, and felt a smile creep onto my face.

“already made that offer and you said no,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice.

i rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, my heart doing that annoying flutter thing it always did when he got like this — casual, but with just enough meaning to keep me spiraling.

“well…”i trailed off, biting my lip. “that was before you started bribing me with morning coffee and back rubs.”

“you forgot the part where i let you pick the movies and stick your cold feet on me,” he added, smug.

i laughed. “okay, true. honestly, i am starting to think you want me to move in.”

there was a pause — not awkward, just weighted — like he was thinking about how honest he wanted to be.

“i do,” he said simply. “i like having you here.”

that shut me up real quick. for a second, all I could hear was the sound of my own pulse in my ears.

“well,” I said, voice slightly higher than I intended, “guess I’ll start bringing more than just an overnight bag.”

he laughed, soft and warm. “good. ive already got a spot cleared out in the closet.”

—

“Only kinda dressing like you now— ‘cause your clothes they fit me — and that’s good reason.”

yn_ln added a post to her story!

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, maxfewtrell & 2,376,299 others.

lando : looks so much better on you anyways

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux : hmm…still at his place…in his hoodie?

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : yes mum 🙄

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux: that’s funny…same thing I do with Charles WHO IS MY BOYFRIEND

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : speaking of charles- tell him to stop being nosey

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux: WHAT HE SAY FUCK ME FOR - charles

—

i wasn’t planning to steal it.

but there it was, draped over the back of his couch — navy blue, soft-looking, and very obviously worn in. his favorite one. definitely the one I always “borrowed” and conveniently forgot to give back.

i glanced over my shoulder. lando was still in the kitchen, humming to himself and completely unaware of my criminal intentions.

i grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over my head. it smelled like him — some combination of expensive cologne, laundry detergent, and whatever shampoo he used that I secretly liked more than mine.

just as i was admiring myself in the mirror by the door, arms swallowed whole and sleeves dragging over my hands, i heard him behind me.

“oh, really?” he said, amused. “that’s your hoodie now?”

i turned slowly. “possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you are unbelievable.”

“and yet,” i said, tugging the sleeves over my fingers with a grin, “you still like me.”

he rolled his eyes but crossed the room and stood in front of me, eyes flicking down to the hoodie.

“i liked that one.”

i stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. “you still do. you are just sharing it now.”

he gave me the look — the one that meant he was annoyed, but also very clearly melting.

“you know you’re not getting away with this, right?”

i shrugged. “too late. ive already imprinted on it.”

—

“every friend of mine—I told them the same— no im not in love”

“so,” alexandra said, sipping her mimosa with an innocent smile, “how’s your new apartment been?”

I blinked. “My new what?”

Kika leaned forward, chin in hand. “lando’s. six nights this week, babe. we have a group chat. we have been counting.”

i nearly choked on my drink. “okay, first of all, you have way too much time on your hands. second, we are best friends.”

lily raised an eyebrow. “friends who do what, exactly? morning cuddles? sleep together? kiss each other? share clothes? share socks?”

i gaped at her. “that was one time—he had cold feet!”

kika smirked. “he has cold feet, and you’re in love.”

“i am not in love,” i said, louder than necessary, which of course made all three of them lean in.

alexandra tilted her head. “sure. you just smile at your phone every single time he texts you and you wear his clothes like you don’t have a whole closet of your own.”

i opened my mouth. closed it. opened it again. “its a nice hoodie!”

lily grinned. “and he’s a nice man. who makes you pancakes and lets you sleep in his bed.”

kika raised her glass. “to yn and lando— her completely platonic live in boyfriend.”

alexandra clinked hers with a laugh. “who she’s not in love with, of course.”

i groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “i hate all of you.”

“lies,” lily sang. “you love us. just like you love—”

“don’t say it.”

“—landoooo,” all three of them said in unison, full chaos energy.

i sighed. “you are impossible.”

kika winked. “so is pretending you’re not head over heels. just admit it, and we’ll buy you matching mugs.”

—

“And I don’t hate every girl your eyes go to.”

f1gossipgirls

284,265 likes.

f1gossipgirls : After weeks of swirling rumors, YN LN and Lando Norris have finally stepped out… just not with each other. Lando was spotted getting cozy with model Magui Corceiro, while YN was seen out with none other than Magui’s ex, footballer João Félix. Coincidence? Petty? The plot thickens.

username00 : be so for real right now. there is no way this isn’t intentional. YN OUR PETTY QUEEN.

username5 : yn really said fine you want her?? ill get with her ex

username7 : I need to achieve this level of petty bitch some day

username14 : i know alex and kika are somewhere screaming rn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and kikagomes

username00: OH they r CREEPING

username22 : call me delulu but this could just be for pr

username15 : this is so iconic im screaming

—

yn_ln

liked by kikagomes, charles_leclerc, joaofelix79 & 4,285,257 others.

yn_ln : life lately

—

kikagomes : you are so hot come kiss me

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : on my way!

charles_leclerc : Floki and Leo play date sometime soon? 😌

liked by yn_ln & joaofelix79

yn_ln : absolutely!

joaofelix79 : a mais linda😻

liked by yn_ln

username00 : damn she really said lando won’t commit?? hard launch

username7 : her and joao lowkey look so good together

username14 : no lando like…that is how you know he is pissed

username15: I went through 5 years of her posts and this is the only one with no Lando like

pierregasly : who is that beautiful woman you are playing chess with??

liked by yn_ln and kikagomes

yn_ln : my girlfriend :)

liked by kikagomes

pierregasly: should’ve known I’d get that response

—

“you didn’t have to post that photo,” lando said, not even looking up from his phone.

i glanced at him from across the room. “what photo?”

“the one with João. the one where he’s practically breathing on your neck.”

i rolled my eyes. “it is called posing, lando.”

“oh, so now it’s posing?” he scoffed. “looked cozy to me.”

i crossed my arms. “right…because you’d know all about looking cozy. how is magui, by the way?”

his head snapped up. “don’t bring her into this.”

i laughed, bitter. “oh, I’m sorry. was that hitting a little too close to home?”

“you are being ridiculous.”

“and you’re being possessive for someone who swears we’re just friends.”

that shut him up for a second. Then he said, quieter, “m’not possessive.”

“really?” i said, stepping toward him. “because you’re acting like I cheated on a boyfriend I don’t have.”

he stood up too, jaw tight. “maybe i wouldn’t care if you weren’t acting like you’re suddenly in love with João fucking Félix.”

i stared at him. “and maybe i wouldn’t care if you didn’t light up every time she laughs at your jokes.”

“you know what?” i muttered, grabbing my jacket. “this is dumb. you do whatever you want. do whoever you want.”

“already have been,” he snapped. “and so have you.”

i was halfway out the door when he called after me, voice softer but stubborn. “you’re the one who said we were just friends.”

i paused, turned slightly. “yeah. well. maybe that was a mistake.”

neither of us said what we really meant. the tension in the air said enough. touching.

—

“I’m not bothered looking up your exes — Matter fact we could probably be friendses.”

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Oh? YN LN hanging out with Luisa Oliveira — Lando’s ex — in Monaco today? Did not have that on my bingo card.

username2 : guys calm down— her and luisa have stayed in touch since her and lando split. they are always interacting online

username5 : no bc if my ex and best friend were having a meeting about me id cry and never been seen again.

username7 : giving “we both survived the same man”

username10 : forget the drivers. the wags have taken over the season.

username8: yn pls drop a selfie with luisa with the caption “his taste is consistent” PLEASE

—

—

“we got the same taste that ain’t my fault”

it supposed to be a solo coffee run. no drama. no tension.

i pushed open the door to the little corner café, the bell chiming like it always did, and stepped inside—only to immediately bump into someone coming from the opposite direction.

“oh—sorry, I—” my voice caught.

lando.

he froze too, holding two takeaway cups, one already half-spilled from the impact.

“hi,” he said, blinking like he wasn’t sure i was real. “i—wow. hi.”

i swallowed hard. “hey.”

we both stood there, awkwardly, in the narrow doorway, neither moving. my heart thudded. this place — this stupid café — had been ours for so long that it felt wrong seeing him here and not being with him.

“i didn’t think you still came here,” he said, voice low. “not without me.”

“yeah,” I said quickly. “i didn’t. not really. just—craved it today.”

“guess we still have the same taste?” he said and looked down.

“and I just spilled one of yours. cool.”

i couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “you always did have terrible coordination off-track.”

he gave me that sideways smirk i hated how much i missed. “says the girl who once tripped literally just over air…many times.”

“that was one time.”

“it was three.”

the silence after that wasn’t heavy like before. it felt like it always has.

“i miss this,” he said suddenly, glancing around the café, then at me. “i miss you.”

i looked at him then — really looked. the tired eyes. the nervous thumb tapping the side of the cup. the way he kept stealing glances like he was afraid i might disappear if he blinked.

“i miss you too,” i admitted.

he exhaled. like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

“i was stupid,” he said. “about the fight. about João. about everything.”

i bit my lip. “i was too. i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“i know,” he said. “i didn’t mean to lose you.”

A pause.

“so don’t,” i whispered.

he looked at me like the world tilted back into place. then held out one of the remaining coffees — the unspilled one. my usual.

“still how you like it?”

i nodded, smiling. “perfect.”

and for the first time in weeks, things felt right again — no explanations, no drama. just us. at our table. in our café. where it all began.

—

“if i slip and i somehow say it — you should know in advance, im wasted.”

the bass was shaking the floor. lights pulsed, the air smelled like overpriced tequila and victory, and someone — probably charles — had just climbed onto the DJ booth screaming “he finally won one!”

lando was glowing. sweaty, flushed, champagne-soaked, still in his tee with a medal crooked around his neck. everyone was celebrating like it was the first time F1 had ever seen a podium. maybe it felt like the first time. especially to me. he found me through the crowd, grinning, eyes already glassy with drunk adrenaline.

“there you are,” he said, stumbling slightly as he pulled me in with one arm. “did you see me? like actually see me?”

“hard to miss when you were standing on top of the world,” i yelled over the music.

he laughed, messy and wild, like it was pouring straight out of his chest. “could not have done it without you.”

“lando, i didn’t even—”

“you were there,” he said, serious now, crowd and noise fading behind us. “you are always there. i look for you first.”

i froze, heart stuttering. “you are drunk.”

“yup,” he said. “but not wrong.”

and before i could say anything, before i could stop him or stop myself, he leaned in and kissed me — champagne-flavored, heat-drunk and reckless.

it was a little too fast. a little too desperate. but, it felt right. like something we’d been circling for too long.

he pulled back first, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe it either. “was that—?”

“stupid,” i said quickly.

he nodded. “yeah. super stupid.”

then kissed him again.

—

lando and i barely made it into his hotel room before his hands were back on me, clinging to the zipper on the back of my dress. his lips sucking on my neck and i let out a light moan. he gently pushes me back onto the bed and crawls on top of me.

“ive wanted this for so long.” he admits before his lips brushed against mine.

“me too.” i stuttered as i felt his hands explore me.

before i knew it — we were both undressed and pressed against each other.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.

“please- lando. i want you.” i said and a smirk appeared on his face. i feel him inside of me and his lips are attached to mine again.

“i-i love you.” i muttered through my moans—not fully realizing what i said.

“i love you more. always have.” he whispered in my ear, driving me crazy.

—

my head was pounding and i could barely open my eyes but as i did i noticed lando beside me. this obviously was not rare but he was…naked. i gasped to myself and looked around the hotel room. our clothes mixed on the floor. i stared at myself in the mirror and noticed hickeys from my neck down to my mid chest. i sighed— trying to recall the events of last night.

last night.

the win. the club. the kiss. the aftermath.

his hands. my shirt on the floor. my heart in his hands.

the words — god, the words.

“i love you.”

i said it first. then he said it back. too fast, too real, too drunk.

but also… not drunk enough to lie.

i carefully untangled myself, trying not to wake him, and grabbed the nearest hoodie i could find — his, obviously — before tiptoeing into the bathroom. i was halfway through drinking water straight from the tap like a gremlin when i heard his voice, raspy and half-asleep behind me.

“you left the bed.”

i turned. “you were starfishing.”

he gave a lazy smile. “you didn’t run.”

“nope, still here. still processing.”

he nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. “same.”

“we said somethings.”

“yeah,” he said blinking at me. “we did.”

“im sorry- i don’t- know. i was drunk.”

“don’t apologize. i meant it, yn.” he said.

“so did i.” i said with a sigh of relief.

“i love you, yn.” he said and pulls me into the bed holding me.

“good because if you said you didn’t i was just gonna throw myself off the balcony from embarrassment.”

“so dramatic, even hungover.” he chuckled, kissing my head.

“consistent…and in love with my best friend apparently.”

“good to hear…I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

—

f1gossipgirls

523,377 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Lando Norris and YN LN caught getting rather steamy in the club after his most recent win.

—

username00 : the audacity to make no im not in love about him and then DO THIS

username2 : well this is one way to make up with your friend after a fight

username5 : me pretending I’m happy for them when really I’m pacing my room like a victorian widow

username7 : You KNOW Lily and Kika are already planning the wedding. Alexandra’s making the guest list. Soft launch era is over.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, lilymhe

username8 : CAUGHT CREEPING AGAIN

username14 : I don’t care about the driving anymore— need a whole season of this

—

yn_ln

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, carlossainz55 & 7,205,210 others.

yn_ln : okay I lied im in love with my best friend but stream no im not in love about your situationships!!!

—

username7 : girlie we been knew

alexandrasaintmleux: never tell me im wrong ever again— but im so happy for you bb!

liked by author

lilymhe : good thing I started planning the wedding like 3 years ago

liked by author

kikagomes : lost my wife 😭😭

liked by author

yn_ln : you still have me mamas

lando : ive loved you since i first laid eyes on you

liked by author

charles_leclerc : I catch a stray for being nosey when you literally LIED

liked by author

yn_ln : haha sorry charlie…😀

—

lando

liked by yn_ln, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri & 2,373,289 others.

lando : she loves me so much she made a song to convince the world she didn’t 😎

—

oscarpiastri : good im tired of seeing you mope around the paddock

liked by yn_ln

lando : now you get to watch me smooch yn all the time

oscarpiastri : goodie

maxfewtrell : took you both long enough

liked by yn_ln and lando

carlossainz55 : im glad you both remembered the next morning bc I couldn’t break it to you if you didn’t

liked by yn_ln and lando

—

🐞💐🌺🦋☀️🌷🌞🌟💫🌻⚡️

[gojosconsort]

blowjob 101 with satoru

𓂃୨ৎ after a movie night, you confess to your older best friend satoru that you’ve never given a blowjob and he offers to teach you at your doorstep.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x older best friend!satoru gojo

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. oral sex (m receiving), age gap (consensual, reader early 20s, satoru early 30s), teaching, praise kink, cum

“you sure you don’t want popcorn?” satoru’s voice is a playful whisper, leaning close as the movie’s opening credits roll, his breath tickling your ear. you’re slouched in the cinema’s plush seats, shoulder brushing his, the dark theater hiding the way your pulse jumps.

he’s your best friend, ten years older, with his sharp grins and effortless charm, the kind of guy who makes your heart stutter even when he’s just being satoru. his arm’s slung over your seat, casual, like it’s always been—intimacy that’s normal, expected, yet electric every time.

“i’m good,” you murmur, smirking, nudging his elbow. “you’d just eat it all anyway.” he chuckles, low, hand dropping to your thigh, resting there like it’s nothing, fingers warm through your jeans. it’s always like this with him—close, tactile, a line you both toe without crossing. his thumb brushes idly, and you shift, pretending to focus on the screen, but your skin’s buzzing. he doesn’t move, just keeps his hand there, heavy, possessive in a way that feels safe, familiar.

the movie’s a blur, some action flick he picked, but you’re distracted, stealing glances at his profile—white hair catching the screen’s glow, blue eyes glinting when he catches you looking. “pay attention,” he teases, squeezing your thigh lightly, and you roll your eyes, shoving his hand halfheartedly.

“you’re the worst,” you whisper, but you’re smiling, and his grin says he knows you don’t mean it. the rest of the film passes in a haze, his hand never leaving your thigh, a quiet claim that makes your stomach flutter.

after, you’re in his car, a sleek black thing that smells like leather and him. he’s driving, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the gearshift, city lights flashing past. “that movie was bullshit,” he says, laughing, glancing at you. “next time, you pick.” you snort, kicking your feet up on the dash, ignoring his mock glare. “you’d just complain anyway.” he grins, turning onto your street, and the banter flows—easy, stupid jokes about the movie’s plot holes, his bad driving, your worse taste in snacks.

“speaking of bad taste,” he says, tone shifting, playful but probing, “you still dodging guys or what?” you groan, slumping in the seat. “not dodging. just… picky.” he raises an eyebrow, smirking. “picky, huh? what, no one’s good enough for my girl?”

the my hits, possessive, and you shrug, cheeks warm. “maybe. haven’t exactly been… practicing.” he laughs, loud, head tipping back. “practicing? what, like it’s a sport? c’mon, spill.”

you hesitate, then blurt, “fine, i’ve never given a blowjob, okay? happy?” it’s meant to be defiant, but your voice cracks, embarrassed. he goes quiet, then whistles, grin widening. “damn, never? that’s… wild.” you punch his arm, mortified. “shut up! it’s not funny.” he’s still laughing, but it’s warm, not mocking. “nah, it’s not. it’s cute. you’re cute.” you glare, but he’s pulling into your driveway, parking, and the mood shifts, his laughter fading, eyes on you, intense.

you both get out, and he walks you to your doorstep, hands in his pockets, the night air cool. you fumble with your keys, and he leans against the doorframe, watching, quieter now. “you serious about the blowjob thing?” he asks, voice low, no teasing now, just curiosity, something heavier.

you pause, keys dangling, heart pounding. “yeah,” you admit, shy. “never got the chance.” he steps closer, towering over you, blue eyes dark in the porch light. “want me to teach you?” he says, soft, serious, a challenge and a promise. “just you and me. no one else.”

your breath catches. he’s always been possessive—glaring at guys who got too close, calling you his in that half-joking way—but this is different. “you’d… do that?” you whisper, and he nods, brushing a strand of hair from your face, thumb lingering on your cheek. “fuck yeah. you trust me, right?” you nod, pulse racing, and he smiles, warm, guiding you inside. “then let’s do this.”

inside, your apartment’s dim, lit by a single lamp. he leads you to the couch, sitting with his legs spread, patting the space between. “c’mere,” he says, voice gentle, and you kneel, heart hammering, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming. he’s so close, the faint scent of his cologne—citrus, clean—mixing with the wine on his breath. “relax, baby,” he murmurs, hand cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw. “it’s just me. you’re safe. we’ll go slow.”

he shifts, undoing his belt, the buckle’s clink making you flinch. “just gonna start easy,” he says, pushing his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free, thick, half-hard, intimidating. “shit,” you breathe, frozen, and he chuckles, hand on your shoulder. “don’t panic. you don’t have to take it all. touch me first.”

you reach out, fingers wrapping around him, tentative, and he inhales, guiding your hand. “like this,” he says, showing a slow stroke, base to tip, firm but patient. “not too tight. feels good already.” you mimic him, stroking, and he groans, “fuck, that’s it. good girl.”

the praise hits hard, heat pooling between your legs, and you shift, trying to focus. “you’re doing great,” he says, eyes locked on yours, possessive and warm. “wanna try your mouth?” you nod, eager but nervous, and he brushes your hair back, keeping it out of your face. “start with the tip. lick it, feel it out.” you lean in, tongue tasting the salty bead at the head, and he moans, “shit, just like that.” you lick again, circling, and he’s praising, “fuck, you’re a natural.”

you take him into your mouth, just the head, lips stretching, and he groans, hand resting lightly on your head, not pushing. “good, keep it slow,” he says, voice rougher, thighs tensing. “use your tongue.” you swirl it around the tip, sucking gently, and he’s unraveling, “goddamn, that’s it.” you hum, the vibration making him twitch, and he grips your hair, possessive but gentle. “fuck, you’re making me crazy.”

“look at me,” he says, and you glance up, meeting his eyes, dark with want, soft beneath the heat. “you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he mutters, and you moan, vibrating around him. “shit, do that again,” he groans, hips shifting, and you hum, sucking harder, feeling him pulse. “you’re mine,” he says, voice low. “no one else gets this.” you nod, mouth full, eager to please.

“try more,” he coaches, guiding gently. “breathe through your nose, relax your throat.” you inch down, taking more, careful not to gag, and he’s moaning, “yes, just like that.”

you bob your head, finding a rhythm, spit slicking your lips, and he’s losing it, thighs shaking. “fuck, baby, you’re perfect,” he pants, hand tightening, grounding. “use your hand too.” you wrap your fingers around the base, stroking with your mouth, and he groans, “goddamn, yes.”

you’re bolder, taking him deeper, lips tight, tongue on the underside, and he’s a mess, voice breaking. “you’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, and you hum, feeling him twitch. you pull off, panting, spit on your chin, and he cups your face, wiping it away. “you okay?” he asks, gentle, checking in. “yeah,” you say, hoarse, smiling. “it’s fun.” he laughs, possessive edge back. “fun, huh? you’re gonna kill me.”

you dive back in, sucking deeper, hand stroking faster, and he’s close, voice urgent. “fuck, i’m—shit, slow down if you don’t want—” but you don’t, wanting to finish, and he groans, “you’re perfect, fuck, i’m—” he cums, hot, thick, spilling into your mouth, and you swallow most, some dripping down. he’s panting, stroking your hair, “so fucking good, baby.”

he pulls you up, kissing you deep, tasting himself. “you did so well,” he says, arms wrapping around you, possessive. “no one else gets you like this, yeah?” you nod, melting, and he kisses your forehead, smitten. “want me to teach you something else too, baby?”

[bruisedboys]

second nature — bob reynolds

bob tells you he’s never been kissed. you decide to change that. (post thunderbolts, spoiler free!)

bob reynolds x fem!reader, fluff, friends in love, kissing, thunderbolt!reader (or at least she is implied to live in avengers tower), 1.7k words

“You’re telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Bob’s face is already hot, but now it burns like a furnace. You’re staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“No,” Bob shakes his head, embarrassed under your gaze. He looks at his hands instead. “I mean… not properly.”

You must be able to tell he’s embarrassed about it, because you soften.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you say gently. Bob didn't think you meant it like that, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. You twist towards him. “I just meant … I don’t know, you’re cute. How come no one’s ever kissed you before?”

Bob goes a bit blind. He’s already nervous enough, having you in his room like this. You’re meant to be playing his new video game together, but you’d gotten talking about an old high school fling who used to play video games and was, incidentally, a terrible kisser. You’d asked Bob if he’d ever had a kiss so bad it made him want to brush his teeth five times over, and he’d blurted his secret before he’d even considered lying.

“I don’t know,” Bob mumbles. The tips of his ears burn. He wonders if he imagined you calling him cute. “Nobody’s ever liked me that much, I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence. Bob realises he’s made a pretty pathetic image of himself (as if he wasn’t enough of a loser already), and he goes to amend, but you beat him to it.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. You put your controller down on the duvet by your hip and twist to face him. You’re sitting side by side on the end of his bed, legs dangling over the edge. It’s a big bed — it’s a big tower. Bob’s still not used to living in the Avengers old headquarters, and he doesn’t think he ever will be.

Bob swallows and finally looks up at you. You’ve got this look on your face that he can’t put a name to. The forgotten video game glowing on the TV reflects back, colouring your features different shades of blue and orange. You’re really pretty. He’s really nervous.

An awkward chuckle tumbles from his mouth, “Why’s that?” He asks.

You shrug one shoulder. “‘Cos you’re really nice. And funny. You’re handsome too, if that helps,” you say, grinning a bit now.

Bob just blinks at you, flummoxed. Is he dreaming? He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks eventually. He doesn’t think you ever would, but he can’t fathom that fact that maybe, you’re telling the truth.

You shake your head vehemently. “No. No, what? I’m serious, Bob, you’re a great guy,” you say earnestly. Then, like an afterthought, “I’d kiss you,” you add quietly.

Bob short circuits. He truly can’t figure out if he’s dreaming or not. Surely, he is. Surely you, the loveliest, prettiest girl he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing, doesn’t want to kiss him. He searches for something to say but all that comes out is,

“Oh.”

You grin, not teasing but getting close. “You don’t believe me?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Bob flounders, “I—no. I mean, yes? I… I don’t know.”

Smooth, he thinks sarcastically, then promptly shuts his mouth before he can say anything else stupid. Meanwhile, you’re leaning closer, your thigh pressing into his.

”I can prove it, if you like,” you say in a quiet voice.

Bob’s heart hammers. “Prove … what?”

It’s a stupid question, but you’ve never made him feel stupid and he doesn’t think you ever will. You just smile softly.

”Prove that I want to kiss you,” you say simply. “Can I?”

Bob doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s not sure if he’s lightheaded from your proximity, your sweet perfume, your words, or a mix of all three. He finds himself nodding.

“Okay,” he says.

He watches in a sort of trance as your eyes flicker to his mouth and back up again.

“You sure?” You ask.

Bob’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He tries not to breathe too fast. “Yeah,” he nods.

You grin. Now Bob’s looking at your lips, the curve of your Cupid’s bow, your plump bottom lip. The tip of your tongue as it darts out to wet your top lip.

His heart thuds in his chest.

“Alright,” you say. “Shut your eyes, handsome.”

Bob slams his eyes shut and stays very still. He’s so nervous he can feel it in his bones, a warm sort of buzzing deep in his limbs. It’s unfamiliar and strange, but not uncomfortable. He feels you moving closer, and then feels your hand on his shoulder. Jolts of electricity go down his arm.

“You ready?” You ask in a whisper.

You’re so close now Bob can feel your breath on his lips when you speak. Meanwhile, he can’t speak, so he just tilts his chin up in response.

You take the hint. You press your lips to his and kiss him. Bob forgets how to think — your lips are warm, your kiss achingly soft. He doesn’t know what to do with himself but let himself be kissed, his heart pounding so hard now he’s sure you can hear it. You kiss him for longer than he’s expecting, your thumb pressing into the fleshy part of his shoulder. When you pull away, he wants more.

“How was that?” You whisper. You’re very, very close, so close Bob could count your eyelashes if he wanted to. The glow of the TV reflects warm orange in your eyes.

“Not a real kiss,” Bob murmurs. Your kissing has left him feeling braver than usual.

Your eyes glint and you grin, all Cheshire Cat-like. “I was just warming you up,” you say a little defensively. “You want to go again?”

Bob nods. His nose bumps yours. “Please.”

You kiss him again. You’re more sure this time, warmer, like you were waiting for him to ask for more. Your hand migrates to the very top of his back, your arm caging his shoulder as you push up into the kiss. Bob finds himself kissing back, though he doesn’t really know how, he’s just following your lead. Your thigh starts to squash his and he doesn’t care, ‘cos you taste like butter popcorn and something sweet, and you’re kissing him like you’ve wanted to do this about as long as he has.

You move closer, your kisses getting surer, and Bob’s hand starts to move of its own accord, an invisible thread tugging it towards your waist. His thumb skips over your sweater, and his hand aches with want, but he hesitates.

You break away from the kiss.

“You can touch me,” you murmur with a lopsided grin. “Go on.”

You reach down and take his hand in yours, pressing it to your waist. Bob swallows. You’re so warm, and his hand fits perfectly to the dip of your waist, his pinky finger sliding over the bump of your hip. If he’d known touching you would be like this, he’d have done it much earlier.

“S’that okay?” He asks you.

You nod. “Yeah. You can touch my face, too, if you want. Do you wanna try kissing me now?”

Bob does want to, very badly, but he’s afraid he’ll mess it up. “I don't know how,” he says honestly, past caring how pathetic he sounds.

You shrug. “That’s okay,” you say gently. Your hand returns to his shoulder and you push your palm up towards his neck. You lean close until your noses almost touch. “Just do what I did, okay? I’ll help you.”

You let your eyes fall shut. Bob, his heart rampant with nerves all over again, takes that as his sign and moves forward to slot his mouth with yours. It’s messy — his nose squashes into yours, and he’s not sure whether to part his lips or not. His decision gets made for him when your lips part very slightly under the pressure of his kiss.

“That’s good,” you murmur against his lips, nodding encouragingly. “Good job.”

You grab his neck and tug yourself closer. Your mouth is hot, your hand greedy at the nape of his neck. Bob remembers what you said before, and raises his free hand to very gently cup your jaw. You’re abnormally warm under his touch, and when he presses his palm to your neck, he can feel your pulse going almost as fast as his.

He pulls away from you an inch, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?” He asks, frowning. “Your pulse is a riot.”

He must sound as clueless as he feels, because you give a breathless laugh.

“You’re making me nervous,” you say shyly.

Bob blinks. “Oh,” he says. He didn't know he had the capability to make you nervous.

You giggle breathlessly, lips all swollen and dark pink, and Bob decides he’s in love with you right then and there.

”Yeah, oh,” you echo, smiling like a fool. “Kiss me again, will you?”

Bob doesn’t need to be asked twice. His hand roves around to the small of your back and he kisses you again, and sure, it’s not perfect, but you make up for it by kissing him back so ardently that it’s a wonder Bob doesn’t pass out. Your hand pushes up into his hair, greedy as anything, and now he’s sure he’s gonna pass out. You tug at the strands of hair at the very nape of his neck and Bob makes a sound he can’t help. He whimpers.

He’s about to die of embarrassment when he feels you smile against his lips.

“Feels nice?” You ask, pulling back, but not before giving him a few short kisses.

”Sorry,” Bob says back. He’s almost certain he’s steaming at the ears right now.

You shake your head. “Nothing to be sorry for, handsome,” you kiss the side of his mouth, your fingers curling into his hair like it’s second nature. “You want me to keep going?”

Bob’s not sure he could handle it, but he nods anyway. If the others find him passed out or dead in his own bedroom in the morning, he’s blaming it on you.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[cloudedcreams]

hii my lovelies!! so i've been asked numerous times if i have a masterlist, and seeing as i've been on a writing break i wanted to end it by releasing one. mwah <33

nsfw ⊹܀˙

cnc, disgusting! yandere

cnc, yandere who's sick of trying to hold himself back.

yandere! incubus!

yandere who can't hold himself back anymore.

yandere!hacker.

yandere! ex.

yandere virgin who's saved his virginity for you.

yandere! husband.

yandere husband who wants babies.

yandere! vampire

cold yandere! boyfriend.

pathetic! yandere boyfriend.

another pathetic yandere who wants you to take his virginity.

yandere priest/cleric.

stalker! darling with a freak yandere who is ten times worst.

sfw 𝜗𝜚⋆

strange yandere kidnapper. (casper)

strange yandere kidnapper pt.2 (casper)

yandere captor who keeps you in a page.

awkward! yandere

dancing to 'my all' with a stalker yandere

yandere! farm boy and a city girl darling.

yandere! farm boy trying to court you.

yandere! siren

yandere! doctor who refuses to leave you after death.

yandere! with severe mommy issues.

yandere! creator and his dolly darling.

yandere! who takes you out to prom.

yandere! gamer who's avatar is always customised to look like you.

religious yandere! game character who's recently become self aware.

yandere! roommate who sees you as his angel.

yandere! werewolf in an omegaverse au.

yandere who used to be your old crush.

cold! yandere who took too long so now he has to pay the price.

sugar baby! darling who gets mixed up into a family affair.

loser! yandere with a popular girl darling.

yandere! photographer.

yandere! best friend.

yandere! childhood friend.

yandere! caretaker.

yandere! caretaker pt.2

yandere! caretaker pt.3

having a yandere who craves you.

yandere! loser

mentally unstable yandere who craves your attention.

younger! yandere with an older darling.

old yandere postsִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

yandere stalker! oc x reader ──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

yandere stalker! oc x reader ──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

fern yandere oc <3

nsfw headcanon's.

valentine headcanon's.

yandere stalker introduction post. (fern)

he comes home covered in blood and he tries to comfort you..

he smells of blood and cries silently with you.

him crying to you and you ask him to let you go.

his pet-name for you.

baking with him.

having a 'tantrum' with him.

brushing his hair.

accepting the fact you don't hate him.

inspired by someone else's oc. .☘︎ ݁˖

yandere! sea bunny oc @fernbranches

[peoniesnro]

Perfect Partner | Sequel 2.1

Synopsis - You find you have no one to turn to except, Jeon Jungkook!!

Paring- Jeon Jungkook × Reader

Genre- Yandere | Dark Romance

Warnings- Yandere (Mentions of kidnapping/ Emotional manipulation/ Toxic and unhealthy love/ Obsessive Love/ Threats against loved once/ Forced Intimacy/ Abusive behavior/ Controlling behavior/ Power play/ Jeon is the same sweet asshole/ Unhealthy coping mechanisms/ Reader is broken/ Possesiveness/ Hope I haven't missed anything) SMUT (Making out/ Finger suckings (Palm too)/ Dry humping/ Humiliation/ Begging/ Groping/ Heavy degradation/ Dirty talking/ Unprotected sex/ Rough sex/ Multiple orgasms/ Begging for cum/ Chocking/ Creampie/ Shower sex/ Threats during sex/ Crying during sex/ Daddy kink!!/ Sex tapes/ Mentions of bondage, shoe ridings/ Again I hope I missed none) Please remember this is yandere!!!

Word count- 18.7K

a/n- Hello there babies!!!! My apologies for splitting the sequel into two parts but I had to considering this was getting too long (we have 18K words already). If I contniued to write untill the end, I'd have ended up writing 50K words and we all would've be in our sixties by the time I uploaded it. So,bear with me while I first upload this one and let's wait for the next one. Also, in this one I paid more attention to SMUT (like half of this is smut), so it might looks like nothing is happening. But I promise, the sereis will end with the next part. (Let's hope Daebi gets what she deserves!) Thank you so much for reading and the support you've shown. I love you all sosososososooo much ❤️.

RUNRUNRUN

This is the second sequel, read the first part here -

Perfect Partner

Coffee?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your heavy eyelids, feeling as if they are glued. Every inch of your body is sore. Head throbbing. Unmistakable signs of heavy crying in the previous night. You wince in pain as the bright sunlight leaking through the ashy curtains strikes your eyes. You groan softly as you try to move your body,only to realize you can’t. That’s when you realize that you’re not even in bed. In fact, you can see the empty spacious bed right across you.  

You’re sitting upright. A soft gasp escapes you. Memories of the previous night slowly start to flood your mind. 

The call. 

Jungkook.

The video.

Daebi.

Hoseok.

And your little breakdown!

The last thing you can remember is you crying ugly into Jungkook’s oversized t-shirt. His words which didn’t quite reach your ears. His soft kisses on your hair. And his arms that were safely wrapped around your petite figure. The very same arms still wrapped around you.

You’re still in his lap. 

Still in the same position where you sobbed like a grieving widow. Your head pressed against his chest. One of your hands is still clutching the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, curled up like a wounded puppy. Jungkook’s cheek is propped up on your head. And judging by the way his chest heaves ever so gently, you know he is asleep. He has fallen asleep while keeping you on his lap. For the entire night. The realization almost makes you feel bad. Almost though. Because no matter what, he is still your kidnapper and waking up in his arms it doesn’t bring comfort.

Absolutely not!

It sends a chill down your spine. You need to get away from him. It was a moment of weakness that you had the previous night. You were heartbroken. Devastated. It was unbearable pain that you endured. It pained you more than how it pained you the day Hoseok told you that he needs to break up. That he’s in love with someone else. Having your boyfriend cheated on you was another thing. But the woman who he cheated with to be your best friend? That’s a completely new territory of pain. 

Then she helped this lunatic to get you into this situation? The thought alone makes you want to laugh aloud. How crazy is that? How pathetic is your life? 

You ran to Daebi when Hoseok broke up with you. And she had you crying on her shoulder while she was the reason for your tears. She trashed Hoseok like she genuinely despised him with her guts. She got wasted with you on your hardest nights. Only for everything to turn into a lie. One blatant lie. 

It’s humiliating when you think about those moments now. How oblivious you’ve been. Hell, you even ran to her when the AI Jungkook started to scare the shit out of you. AOnce again, you ran to the very person behind it all.

Will there be anything harsher that can happen in your life? You don’t think so. So, of course, you were hysterical last night. And this motherfucker, who thought he had the right to drag your already pitiful, pathetic life even lower- had taken advantage of the situation. You would’ve never allowed him to even lay a finger on you if it wasn’t the pain that numbed you of the other senses. 

You wish you could just storm away from his hold. Scream at him. Let all your pain, anger and frustration out on him. The thing is though, despite everything, he is still the same Jungkook who managed to get you here. The same man who looks at you with a crazed look in his eyes whenever you act stubborn. And unfortunately, you are still the same person you were yesterday. Broken. Weak. Scared. Trapped. You are still afraid of this man. Very. Hence your weak attempt of stretching your body slowly. Trying to pry his arms away without waking him. You just want to get out of his hold. 

It doesn’t work. Just as you try to move an arm, his grip tightens around you. A soft whimper escapes him as he rubs his cheek against your hair. “No..” He breathes. A quick kiss to the top of your head follows that. You freeze. “Five more minutes please…” He adds again. Voice soft and hoarse and his words are nothing but a quiet murmur. There was a time that the same hoarse voice in the morning had made you blush violently. Made you excited. Made your pussy clench around nothing. And you would like nothing more than to say that it doesn’t do anything like that to you anymore. Nothing even closer. Then why are you clutching his shirt like your life depends on it? Then why does your breath catch up in your throat, that way? 

Well, it’s because you are scared. Right? Especially, after what you did yesterday, you have all the reasons to be scared. What if he decided to lock you up in a room? What if he decided to chain you to a wall? What if-

“You hungry?” JungKook brings a hand to push back your hair from your face. Doesn’t take his hand right away. He starts to gently massage your scalp. His voice is still sleepy. His movements are deliberate. “Hm? Pretty?” He questions again in your silence. 

“How?” You don’t answer his question. Instead you throw another one at him. 

“How, what?” He still doesn’t loosen his grip. Not even a little bit. Keeps you pressed against his body. 

“How come you have that v-video?” You manage to get your words out without breaking down. A pang shoots across your chest. You’ll never get over that. No. 

“I just happened to have it.” He answers vaguely, much for your displeasure. Yet you decide not to question further about the matter. You change the course instead. 

“How lon-” This time your voice cracks up. New lump forming in your throat. It pains you. Even the memory of it pains you as if you’re physically bleeding. Even though hours have passed, the pain returns to you fresh. Just like how it was the first time you saw the video. “L-long?” You clutch Jungkook’s t-shirt even tighter, looking for strength from a piece of fabric. “Ho-how long have they-”

“Longer than you think.” JungKook answers you, saving you the misery of having to ask it aloud. “It doesn’t matter, princess. It’s all in the past now. You need to let that go, you know. They don’t deserve you. You deserve much better. They can fuck off.” He finally loosens his grip a little bit. Just enough for him to bring his hand which was in your hair to your chin, and lift your face up. You just let him. He gazes deeply into your eyes. His eyes glowing golden in the morning light. “They aren't worth your time.” Smiles at you softly. 

Easy for him to say. It wasn’t him who had been madly in love with the same person half of his life. It wasn’t him who trusted someone so badly that the very obvious signs have become obscure. You bite into your bottom lip to stop the trembling. To stop the sting in your eyes. You are exhausted. Can’t survive another crying session. 

“Hey, hey!” Jungkook sighs. “Don’t cry please. I swear, I didn’t want to hurt you, baby. But you weren’t trusting me enough to know that I’m not the bad guy. You were thinking that bitch of a friend of yours could do any good to you. I had to make you see things clearly. I’m so sorry that it hurts. But I’ll make it okay, yeah? I’ll make sure you’re okay. Don’t cry now. Hate seeing you cry.” He rests his forehead against you. You hate to be so close to him. You’re tired, however. So, you give up. Just focus on trying not to cry. Focus on pretending that his presence actually calms you down. 

It’s all because you’re heart broken. Once you’re healed, you’ll never feel comfort in him again. Then, you don’t plan on living this life for that long anyway. It’s not like you got much to lose at this rate. And, besides getting out of this luxurious prison, now you have a confrontation to do. You have to meet Daebi and Hoseok. You have to slap Hoseok hard across his face. 

You have to call Daebi a ‘bitch’ to her face. 

…………………

You eye your breakfast wearily. Even the sight of the delicious- looking pancakes makes your stomach churn awfully. You have no appetite at all. Jungkook, however, never was a fan of you skipping meals. He’s annoying. Too freaking annoying. All you want is to fall deeper into the hole of misery. Just sulk. Be alone with the pain. Such a shame that you’re not allowed to make even simple decisions for yourself. 

It’s ridiculous really. Jungkook hasn’t done anything bad. He’s been nothing but kind to you. Caring. Ever so gentle. Loving. Warm. But you’re still afraid. Maybe that fear is deeply rooted somewhere in your brain. With no way of escaping. Maybe it’s because you’ve experienced how much he can change when it’s needed. How he’s turned into a monster when things aren’t going in his way. He might not have done anything bad yet but deep down you know he will, if he wants that. 

So, of course you slightly flinch in your seat when Jungkook suddenly sighs. You know exactly what is coming even before Jungkook opens his mouth. That’s why you instantly dig your fork into the soft pancakes. But then he surprises you with his words. 

“You loved him that much? You loved him so bad that it still hurts you? After all this time? It’s been years, isn’t it?” 

Yes!

That’s the simple and direct answer. You don’t say it aloud, however. See, the fear. Jungkook will not appreciate that answer. 

“Why?” Jungkook asks again. You don’t look at him. Just keep picking at your food. Trying not to think too hard about his question because it’ll surely make you cry again. 

Why? He asks. You can come up with a list. You know you can but you don’t want to. Jungkook grabs the stool next to you. It screeches against the floor, making you flinch. 

“Tell me, baby? What does that motherfucker have that I don’t?” He bends down in an attempt to look at your eyes. You don’t avoid his eyes nor do you look at them. He won’t like the answers if you tell him. For a start, you would like to bring up the fact that Hoseok hadn’t kidnapped you. How he hadn’t created a damn app to traumatise you. But Jungkook won’t like those answers. Besides, it’s not like you’ve hurt completely because of love. No. You are hurt about many things. You loved Hoseok, yes. Maybe you still do. The thing is, though, you’ve come to the conclusion that he’s a cheater a long time ago. And you’ve been loving him less each day ever since. This is not about that. No. This is about trust and betrayal. 

“I don’t love him anymore.” You simply mumble before stuffing your mouth with a forkful of pancakes. Jungkook scoffs. 

“Yes, but you did.”

“People make mistakes. It’s just past.”

“Yeah? Then why are you sulking? Why is my pretty girl’s eyes all bloodshot and why does she look so tired?” 

You put the stupid fork down. It looks like you will have no way of escaping this conversation. “I hate them,” You exhale. Close your eyes. “I hate them and I hate myself. I hate you. I hate how I trusted them ever so easily. I hate that I trusted you. I hate how much of a stupid, pathetic loser I am. I fucking hate my life.” You blurt out before you can even process. Just as the last word leaves your mouth you feel insanely calmed. As if you’ve put down a heavy burden you’ve been carrying around. Just for a minute, however. In the next minute, your face is caught between Jungkook’s rough fingers. He turns your face toward him. That strangely soft and warm look he had in his eyes all this morning has vanished. In its place now is that madness. The look you fear so much. It’s just like the time you told him that he’s sick and he didn’t love you. He’s staring you down just like he did that day. You gulp harshly. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Jungkook brings his face closer to you. Close enough until you can feel the tip of his nose nudging against yours. “You,” he grits. “Can hate them all you want. That is what the bastards deserve. And baby,” he squeezes your cheeks hard. Hard that it hurts you. “You can hate me too. Because like I said, you will learn to love me one day. But,” he pauses for a moment. “Don’t ever fucking say you hate yourself. You hear me?” Questions. “Do you?” Shakes your head. “Do not ever fucking talk bad about you.” 

All you can do is stare back at him. Wanting badly to glare. Wanting badly to scream. He controls everything in your life. From what you eat to what you wear. Now he wants to control your thoughts as well? You’re already physically trapped. He wants you to be mentally trapped as well? 

“I can do whatever I want.” You spit back. God, you wanted to sound as how you feel. Angry. Spiteful. Powerful. But the way you say it is completely the opposite. You sound weaker than ever. Instead of a statement it sounds like a question. And all that it does is make your eyes well up. How helpless you are. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “No you can’t, Pretty. Because, guess what? You are fucking mine and I don’t like when people talk bad about what’s mine. Even you yourself.” He lets go of your face. Just to pick up the fork. You stay motionless as he takes a piece of pancake in it and brings it to your mouth. “Now just eat like a good girl.” 

You turn your gaze away. Oh, the way you want to throw a tantrum. The way you want to stand up for yourself. “I’m not hungry.” You use your palms to wipe away the unshed tears from your eyes. Jungkook exhales in frustration.

“If you want revenge, I can make that happen, you know. I can avenge you.” He drops the fork without any further fuss, which surprises you. Yet again. But that’s not what makes you snap your head toward him back. He’s controlling everything. And you’re too weak to change that. But… But this is something you’ll never want. You don’t know if you want revenge. Maybe. Maybe not. All you know is that you want a chance for a confrontation. You want to scream at Hoseok. Then above everything, you want Jungkook to stay away. He won’t rob you of your chance for salvation. 

“No!” You gasp. “No Jungkook,” Finally, you manage to glare at him. “I’ll never forgive you if you lay a finger on one of them. I’ll hate you to my grave and I promise you, you’ll never see the day I’ll become yours.” You don’t say the part where you’ll never be his either way. Following your words a heavy silence falls. A deafening silence. Just the gentle sound of the heater filling the air. And Jungkook’s glare. 

You expect him to get mad. Expect him to threaten you with something bad. Yet it seems, this day is full of surprises. He does nothing sort of that. Simply gets to his feet. Waste no time as he rounds the kitchen island and walks past you toward the doorway. Almost leaves you to be. That’s when you suddenly burst out another question. Or a request. You don’t know where it came from. 

“I just want to meet them.” Your voice makes Jungkook halts in his track. A soft yet bitter chuckle escapes him. 

“Not a fucking chance.” He informs you before leaving this time for real. 

Of course. Who were you kidding?

………………….

You haven’t seen Jungkook all day. Mainly because you've been holed up inside your (his) room. Just after your little but not- so- civil chat in the morning, you stormed into your room. Have spent the entire day in bed. Just like you wanted. Morphing. Sulking. Reminiscing. Going through your memories, looking for signs and clues that you must’ve missed. Completely drowning in your misery. 

And Jungkook hasn’t even poked his head in. Not even once, which is very unlike him. He never does that. Never allows you to be alone for more than five minutes unless it’s really necessary. Like when you are in the bathroom or he is.  He would always breathe down your neck. Not giving you any chances to try anything funny. Or he just wants to be around you. Even though you don’t talk to him let alone entertain him. 

Then there is the fact that he hasn’t been worried about your meals today. Sometimes, he acts like your father. Always making sure you eat well. Not today. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday and there is no Jungkook to nag you about it. 

You find that awfully weird. Odd. Even your insides churn. It’s nearing midnight now and the entire apartment is in eerie silence. You sit back on Jungkook’s bed, letting the dark grey silk sheets fall across your body. 

When you first realized that Jungkook wasn't going to come and bother you, you were happy. Grateful. It was exactly what you wanted — a moment alone. You expected you’d feel better. At peace. Because you hate Jungkook’s ever- looming presence. This was the day you’ve been dreaming about ever since you woke up in this apartment next to Jungkook. The thing is, however, you feel neither. You feel worse to be honest. Feel anxious. So fucking restless. If you're being honest with yourself, all this time, you’ve been waiting for Jungkook to barge inside the room. You were expecting him. When he didn’t it had put you on edge. Now you can no longer just sit back and wait. 

You remove the sheets as you place your trembling feet on the warm carpeted floor. This is truly maddening. How Jungkook is affecting you, even when he is not around. You don’t like this silence. It’s unsettling. You don’t want Jungkook, but at the same time you want him. At least you’ll know he’s not planning to kill you or something when you have eyes on him. Right? That’s why you feel like you’re losing your mind. That’s the only reason you step out of the room and walk toward the living room in silence. That’s exactly why a breath of relief escapes your lips when you spot the said man sprawled on the couch. 

The TV is on. Muted. Luminous colors of the screen are flashing across Jungkook’s face. His eyes are deeply fixed on the screen. You can only see the side of his face. Chiseled jaw. Prominent nose. Glinting eyes. Pink pretty lips. His lip ring glistens in various colors. His hair has turned purple since the person on the screen is standing in a purple background. He is ethereal, isn’t he? Simply not human. Can’t be human. Oh, you hate him. Hate how good looking he is. 

Jungkook turns his head slowly, obviously sensing your presence. Or he must’ve heard you approaching. His eyes meet yours. They are still not soft. Still angry. Still stiff. You stay that way for a long minute. Then you turn around. Fast. Making a beeline for the kitchen. 

……………………….

Despite feeling very anxious and restless without  your captor around, the other major reason that forced you out of the comfy bed sheets was hunger. It doesn’t matter how stubborn, rebellious, and alone you want to be, in the end, you’re just a human who needs fuel to function. An entire day without food isn’t serving you well. Your stomach is grumbling. And you feel weak. 

You scan your eyes around the now familiar kitchen. Clean and tidy. Spotless. Jungkook is the tidiest person you’ve ever seen. Yet today it seems like no one has used the kitchen at all. It’s funny how you’ve never cooked anything in this kitchen. It was always Jungkook who cooked for you. Now, after all this time, it feels ridiculous to even think about making your own food. Besides, it's not as if you want to cook in this place anyway. It makes it oddly homey. When you start to cook in a place it means you are going to stay there for a long time. Not just a couple days like at a hotel. But in a place where you’d come back every evening. No. You don’t want that at all. You’ll never get used to living in this prison. 

Your body, however, doesn’t care what you want or not. Another growl erupts from your tummy. It’s getting unbearable. Like you are starting to eat yourself from the inside out. Maybe you can eat cup noodles. That’s not similar to cooking, right? All you have to do is boil some water. You give yourself a tiny nod before turning toward the pantry where you know noodles are. 

“Are you hungry?” 

A loud scream leaves your throat as you turn back at light speed. Almost lose your balance at how startled you are. Jungkook just stands in the doorway, completely unphased at the fact that you lost your shit because of him. You clutch your chest with both your hands, scowling at the man in front of you. He and his damn sleazy movements. 

“Want me to order something?” Instead of any apology for startling you, Jungkook fishes out his phone. “What do you want?” Asks again when he has the device on his hand. You take a minute, gaping at his face. Even the sound of that makes your mouth salivate. Yet you shake your head. You don’t want to look even weaker in his eyes. Someone who’s incapable of anything. How shameful that you have to seek him for every little thing. 

“I’m not hung-” You start to refuse his offer just to get cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you. Two long strides and your feet are touching. 

“For fucks sake, (___), don’t fucking make me the bad guy.” He barks. “Don’t make me force things on you. I,” He pauses for a long breath. When he speaks next his voice drops an octave lower. “Really hate it when you’re freaking stupid to see things clearly. And I’ll hate it even more if I have to fucking knock some sense into you.” His eyes bore into yours without even blinking. You feel your heart skip a beat before starting to go mad. Even your stomach churns awfully. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the shaky breath you let out even if you tried to. Fear rises up in your throat in the form of bile, even when you haven’t had anything in your system. “Don’t make me do things that both of us will regret.” Jungkook adds lastly. Doesn’t step away from you. Just keeps his ground, clearly expecting you to answer. You don’t know what the answer he’s looking for. Yet you answer with another question. Your voice is quiet and meek.

“What are you going to do Jungkook? Hit me? Kill me?” You bite back the tremble in your voice with much struggle. Jungkook looks at you for a second like he’s surprised, then he shakes his head. 

“You? Never. But I can certainly make everyone else in this world suffer. You don’t even have a single idea about what I'll do for you baby. Even for simple things. You refuse to eat? Lemme just make you want to eat.” He finally steps back. Scrolls through his phone and then turns it around to show you the screen. A picture. Photo. Of someone who’s dearly familiar to you. Hair dyed in silver and an earring on one ear. Smiling to someone hidden from the camera. 

Park Jimin!

You gasp aloud. That picture looks new. Last time you saw him, he had black hair. Park Jimin is someone who’d dye his hair a new color every month but you haven’t seen him with silver hair before. You know it’s a new picture. 

Did Jungkook take it?

Does he know Jimin as well?

Did someone else take the picture and send it to Jungkook?

Why is he showing you this now? Is he threatening you? 

Your eyes dart between the screen and Jungkook’s face. Jungkook smiles softly. “You won’t want me to just make any of your loved ones hurt now, will you?” He locks the device. You watch as your friend’s image disappears. “Because, I will, pretty. I fucking will.” He pockets the device back again. You feel nauseous. There’s a sickening joy in Jungkook’s voice. 

“Y-you- you wouldn’t.” You stare at him. That smile on his lips never even falters. 

“Oh, but I will.”

“I told you, if-if you ever lay a finger on anyoneー”

“Do you think I’d just listen to you threaten me? Pretty…” Jungkook clicks his tongue in displeasure. “You are already here, aren’t you? You are already mine. You might not want to acknowledge it yet but you. Are. mine. And I know you’ll come to admit it sooner or later andー” He taps the pocket where he just put his phone. “Meanwhile, we can play it easy or hard.”

“But why- why Jimin? He never did anything wrong to you.” You hastily take a step forward. To be honest, you have no idea of what this man is capable of doing. Not all of it at least. He kidnapped you, yes. He’s sick in the head, yes. But that might not be all he has. He can be even more ruthless. He can be capable of murder even. You need to make sure that isn’t the case. 

“But he did.” Jungkook smirks. “He fucking did. If I have to make him suffer, I have all the reasons to do so. Just because I haven’t done anything, that doesn’t mean I can’t, baby. The only reason why I haven’t done anything to anyone, yet,” He brings a hand up. Grabs a loose strand of your hair between his fingers. Plays with it. “is because you are too precious to me. I mean it when I said I don’t want to hurt you, Pretty. But don’t test my patience too much.” His eyes go from that stiffness to softer like a flicker of a switch. So does his daunting smirk. Instead, he smiles at you gently again as he pushes that strand of hair behind your ear. Gently. His fingers grazing over your ear and face ever so lightly. Then he drags those fingers over the side of your neck. And a shiver runs down your spine electrocuting your whole body. You tremble visibly, your breath tangling in your throat. 

It’s fear, right? It’s just fear. 

“Now, you're a big girl. It’s ridiculous that I have to threaten to take away your toys to make you eat.” Jungkook takes his hand back. Just as his touch disappears you feel insanely cold. Hollow. A longing stirs your insides. 

It’s just the fear. You’re awfully scared of him. That’s it. 

He just threatened you with your friends’ life after all. You don’t know what Jimin ever did to Jungkook. Jungkook sure does hate Hoseok because he is your ex. Then you know Jungkook hates him because he hurt you as well. Just like he hates Daebi despite her role in getting you in his hold. Then maybe… Could it be the same reason he hates Jimin? Can it be that Jimin knew too. He knew about Daebi and Hoseok. What if he knew about your kidnapping as well? What about Nina? Did they all know about what was going to happen to you and turn a blind eye?

You feel your heart clenches painfully at the thought. There’s a huge chance that it might be the case. Yet still, you don’t think any of their misery would bring you any satisfaction. No. Revenge is a strange word for you. All you want is a chance for a confrontation, which you know you might not have. Unless you work for it, of course. And after everything, you want all of them to be in a position where you can talk to them. So, you fear Jungkook without a doubt. Yes. This is all about that. 

“I’m ordering Samgyeopsal.” Jungkook informs you, voice sharp. 

You just nod. 

…………………..

The midnight dinner had passed in utter silence where you watched a crappy late-night reality show. It was a very uncomfortable hour where you sat idly next to Jungkook, your mind screaming with  unasked questions. You wanted to know. Wanted to ask. How did he know Jimin? Was it just like you thought? How did he know Daebi? When did they meet? Lots and lots of things. In the end, however, you asked nothing. Simply because you feared the answers. And after that hour, you decided it was enough. That it was time to crawl inside your room back again.

See now, while you spent an entire day starving yourself, you at least hoped to come up with a plan. A plan that is meticulous enough to free you from this shithole. But you managed nothing close to that. All you did was cry, being depressed, then anxious. Now, just as you close the door behind you and stand in the darkness, you know you’re about to do the same thing all over again. This time, however, you feel it ten times harder. New suspicions about your other friends’ participation in your misery has made it worse. 

The lonely feeling freezes you to your marrow. The pain splits your heart in two. The restless feeling makes it hard for you to breathe. It all hits you like a freight train.

Oh, you shouldn’t have been this quick to return here. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt an extra hour watching that crap show. 

Fuck, it’s hard.

You actually can’t breathe. 

You turn around to stare at the closed door. The room is in pitch darkness since you’ve not bothered to switch on the lights and the curtains are drawn. Still you can see the outlines of the closed barrier that isolates you in this room. You close your eyes for a second, letting the pain engulf you whole again. 

Memories. 

Memories of shared laughter and tears. 

Moments spent together. 

Drunken nights and awful jokes. 

Friends. Lovers. Betrayal!

A tangled sob leaves your throat. You reopen your eyes, allowing tears to roll down your cheeks. The cruel reality of how alone and helpless you are once again registering in your mind. If what you think was true, if Jimin and Nina knew this from the beginning, then you’ve been alone all your life. No one has been on your side. Ever. You are all you have. No one has ever cared or will care about you. You bet that they’ve already forgotten about you. They probably have. You will never have someone to wipe down your tears when you cry. Offer you a shoulder to rest your head when you’re tired. You have no one. No one… 

Except….

You don’t even wait a second to think what you’re doing or to consider the consequences. Simply can’t afford one more minute of this loneliness. Of this pain. You yank open the door and run out. Tears streaming down without a break. Heart violently pounding against your ribcage. Your hurried footsteps muffled against the marble floor. 

No one has been on your side ever. You have no one to turn to. Except this one man, who’ll hold you tight when you cry. And all you want is that. Someone to tell you that it’s going to be okay. That nothing was your fault and they are there for you. You don’t care for the fact that the man you’re running into is another one who caused your demise. It’s fine. You just need comfort. A bandage to cover your wound. It’s fine that it’s not a permanent solution and you’ll regret ever doing this in the morning. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you need someone to be on your side. 

So, you don’t stop until you barge into the living room again. You don’t stop until you’re met with the man you were looking for. Just about to leave the room himself. You only give him time to just turn around when you stand in front of him. Jungkook’s innocent- looking, doe eyes, which don’t suit a person like him, go wide at your unexpected sight. You disregard his surprise. Instead you wipe your tears away with both your palms. Drop your hands down. You have no idea what you wanted from him or from just barging in here. 

“I- just- ca-can you- uh-” Hence your pathetic stuttering. Your hands clenched around your cozy shorts to gain a strength that you didn’t know you needed. But for your luck or not, you don’t have to elaborate any further. Jungkook’s eyes soften as you watch. A kind of hurt flashing across them before he closes the distance between you in a flash. And you find yourself crushed between his strong arms. One arm wraps around your waist, the other cradles the back of your head.

“Of course I will, Pretty. Of course I will…��

…………………

Whatever you expected when you ran to Jungkook, it certainly wasn’t this. Sharing the bed? Maybe. You fell asleep on his lap last night for the sake of fuck. Maybe you wanted to have someone to lie next to you, filling the empty side of the bed. But this isn’t just sharing a bed. The way one of his arms is curled under your head isn’t just sharing a bed. The way his other hand is thrown across your waist and holding your hand isn’t just sharing a bed. Nor is the firm press of your back against his broad chest or the tingling sensation of his breath against your neck. 

But the problematic part of this situation isn’t just how he’s holding you close. The problem is that you're not completely opposed to it. You’re enjoying it to be honest. You blame it on the emptiness inside you. On the craving for a caring presence. Not an AI this time but a real person because the way Jungkook’s heart is beating is real. How his chest is heaving when he breathes is real. How his thumb is gently rubbing your palm is real. That’s the reason for you to like this. 

Then why does your heart pound in your poor ribcage? 

Why does your breath hitch with every rub of his thumb against your palm?

Why does your whole arm feel numb—in a good way? 

Above everything else, why do you want him to keep doing it? No. That’s not the case after all. You want him to just do something more. 

You close your eyes for the hundredth time, hoping you would actually be able to fall asleep this time. To act like your stomach isn’t doing weird turns. You fail. Miserably so. All you manage is a blink before you reopen your eyes when Jungkook pushes you back more into his body. His thumb keeps rubbing your palm. 

It feels good. So damn good that even a moan nearly slips through your lips. You have to bite your bottom lip so hard not to let that happen. You can’t risk it now. Can’t let him know that he’s affecting you. Because you don’t want to get affected. No. You can’t. You are not feeling a fire travelling across your veins. Starting from the spot where he’s touching you. He’s touching your palm for God’s sake and you’re doing your best not to moan? 

What is fucking wrong with you? 

Jungkook sighs dreamily behind you, pressing his body more and more into you. He changes the pattern he is rubbing your palm. Instead of circles, he starts to rub back and forth, making you squeeze your thighs desperately. 

No. No. No….

This can’t be happening. You are most definitely not getting wet. Not because of this psychopath. Not because of a simple touch. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Pretty?” Jungkook suddenly questions. His voice is raspy and thick. Even his voice sends a tingle between your legs. 

What the actual fuck?

“Not sleepy.” You answer him with your own hushed voice. Or is it hoarse too? Thick? 

“Why not? It’s late.” Jungkook raises his head a bit. As if he wants a look at your face. His thumb is still playing with your palm. “This doesn’t help?” He questions as he lifts your hand up. “I’m trying to help you relax.” Explains though you don’t ask. Well, you don’t know ‘relax’ is the right word to use in this context. Jungkook doesn’t let you question it. He lifts your hand up and up then back, behind you and over your shoulder. “Gentle touches help people relax, you know,” He keeps explaining while you wait with bated breath. Clueless but also excited about what he is doing. Then you feel the cold touch of his nose nudging against your palm. “Doesn’t it work for you?” Gently questions. That’s all he does before his nose replaces his lips. He kisses your palm softly. Hesitantly. Carefully. As if you’d break if he presses a little hard. 

He waits for a minute while keeping his lips on your palm. Then when he gets no reluctance from your frozen body, he does it again. Another kiss follows. Once then twice. Three times and four times. Slowly. Sensually. His lips brush over your palm like a feather. And you shiver. Eyes fluttering close at the heavenly feeling. 

“Huh, Pretty? It doesn’t help?” Jungkook repeats his earlier question in between his soft kisses. You don’t know how to answer that. So you keep quiet, letting Jungkook kiss your hand. Over and over. And with every kiss it turns a bit tender. His lips linger on your palm a little more than before. As if he’s losing his mind and getting caught in the moment. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing. “Damn it! Why’s your hands so soft?” A soft groan accompanies his words. Words that go straight to your lower belly, igniting a fire there. 

And you fail to keep your reactions neutral. A heavy, shaky sigh escapes you even without your knowledge. Jungkook takes that as a good sign. His kisses grow more deliberate.But what truly breaks you is when you feel the tip of his tongue grazing over your hand. Gently and lightly. Circling across your skin, just like how he did with his thumb. 

“Jungkook…” You mumble which comes out as a desperate moan. You swear that you don’t intend to do that. Jungkook, however, groans. Applies more pressure into his action. His other hand curls even more under your neck, dragging you insanely closer to him. Practically starts to make out with your palm, shifting between open mouthed kisses and licks. You feel your whole body go weak. Blood pumping across your veins extra fast. “Y-you- you can’t.” You weakly whimper once again, half turning toward him despite your words. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook relents. Pushes your hand away from his mouth. You find it amazing how he’s breathless. Cold air replaces the warmth where his tongue had just been, making you already miss the warmth, the tingling sensation. “Then ask me to stop.” He pants. Gives you time to do as he says. 

And isn’t that easy? Just ask him to stop. You know that he’d listen. 

Ask him to stop. 

All you do is whimper. 

You can’t let this happen. 

You press your palm into his mouth. 

Fuck, you need to stop. 

“Oh, Jungkook….” You finally moan aloud at the same time he kisses your palm again. 

“You don’t want me to stop, Pretty?” Jungkook shifts his attention from your palm to your fingers. Wraps his lips around your thumb and starts suckling gently, almost making you cry. “Answer me, baby. You don’t want me to stop? Want me to keep going?” Even during your filthiest sex calls, Jungkook’s voice hadn’t sounded this thick with lust. It gets your head spinning. Rest of the world and everything else disappears from your mind. 

You don’t know how you responded to him. If you said yes or just nodded. But in the next moment you find your back pressed against his chest once again. This time, however, instead of just keeping you close, Jungkook is rocking his hips against your plump ass. You can unmistakably feel the hardness that is being ground against your flesh, creating an insatiable desire inside you. 

All you can manage to do is whimper. Stay still and let him grind against you. His cock rubbing against your ass firmly with every thrust of his hips. He stopped playing with your hands sometime ago, for much of your dismay. Not that you can complain about the change, however. This is better. Even though you know it shouldn’t feel great, you’re slowly slipping into a blissful numbness. 

You would blame this on not having any actions in your life lately. True that with Jungkook- when you thought he was a mere AI- you brought yourself into mind shattering orgasms more than one time. That somehow doesn’t match the sensation you’re feeling now. That fire was nowhere near the wildfire rapidly spreading through your nerves right now. 

Well, if Jungkook managed to make you cum hard just by his voice, why would you be surprised of him being able to get you drooling just with his cock grazing over your ass. 

Of course, he knows what he’s doing. One hand splayed across your waist to keep you in place. Face hidden in your neck. Lips occasionally touching your skin. His soft grunts a beautiful melody in your ear. His hard cock a sin in your body.

This is wrong.

But you need more.

Otherwise you’ll explode from the pressure inside your tummy. You’ll die from neediness. It’s crazy how desperately your pussy has been clenching over nothing. Embarrassing how much you’ve soaked your panties. 

“Jungkook…” You moan out his name once again. Jungkook doesn’t stop his firm grinding as he answers you.

“Yes, pretty?” He plants a kiss under your ear. “What is it?” Asks through clenched teeth.

You don’t know how to ask him what you want. It’s humiliating. You swore you hate him, didn’t you? You swore you will never be his. Technically, this is nothing like that. Just because you’re horny, it doesn’t mean you’ve entered a truce with this guy. Still you feel like crawling into a little hole at the prospect of being this needy for him. Being at the peak of begging for more. 

“What do you want, baby?” Jungkook questions again. You don’t answer. Still not knowing how to phrase your words. Jungkook doesn’t have much patience, though. “Nothing?” He slows down his movements, making you nearly panic. You don’t want him to stop. No. “If you don’t ask, I can’t give it to you.” He stops rocking his hips against you altogether. “Do you want to go to sleep—”

“No!” This time you actually panic, turning your head around to look at him at light speed. “No, no, please..” Words leave your mouth before you can process it. Jungkook raises head again to take a proper look at you. 

“No?” He arches a brow. You freeze, suddenly realizing that you had said that. But it’s out anyway and you really don’t want him to stop. It’s too late for that now. “Then what do you need, pretty? Use your words, huh?” As if to give you what you’d miss, he presses his hardness a little more into your ass. Or it is to show you how hard he is. Either way it forces the words out of your mouth that he, oh so badly needs. 

“Y-you..” You manage breathlessly. 

“Me?” Jungkook tilts his head. “You have me here, don’t you, pretty?” You nearly cry in frustration. 

Why would he want to make you say it aloud?

“W-want you to to-touch me.” You stutter around again, growing impatient and more needy with every passing second. It’s funny how the day has turned into this. Haven’t you hated him with a passion until now? Well, you still hate him. Maybe even more because he has this much influence on you. To make you say things that you don’t want to say that easily. Of course, you hate him. But that hate drowns in a lake of desire. Deeper and deeper. Disappears somewhere in the murky depths as soon as Jungkook suddenly grabs one of your boobs, making you gasp aloud. 

“Yeah? Like this?” He makes sure with his hand already starting to mold the soft flesh beneath his palms. You shudder, eyes fluttering close. You answer him in a gentle hum and for your pleasure Jungkook takes that as enough an answer. Just for a minute, however. Then in the next, he is questioning you again. “Is that all you need baby? Just this? Want me to touch your tits?” He begins his slow grinding back, massaging your breast with just the right pressure. 

You’re almost drooling. Just with this. His hands and his cock grazing over your body through all the clothing. Pathetic. But you can’t care. Too horny for your own good. You would hate yourself at the way you shake your head. Not Jungkook though. The guy loves it judging by the way he kisses your cheek with appreciation.

“No? You need more? What do you need, pretty?” 

You’re pushing back on his cock, not knowing exactly what’s happening. It sure feels like a dream when this time you open your mouth without much persuasion.

“To-touch me pro-properly… please… god, Jungkook…” You complete the rest of your sentence with pulling your t-shirt up. Initiating what you want. 

And Jungkook laughs. Fucking laughs!

Rich sound of his laughter vibrates across your body. It’s sinister. Cruel. Taunting. He’s letting you know how pathetic you’re being and how it amuses him. You should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. And you do. Of course, you do. Your face reddened at the sound. A strong urge to hide your face somewhere getting to you. But with shame, you get that familiar stirring on your lower stomach. 

Desire. Burn. 

Burn for Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook knows how to play you. He had played you even before he got to lay a single finger on you. He played you like you were a guitar. And now he’s slowly dragging you into that same headspace. 

Making you his little play thing. 

Someone who’s completely lost their senses.

“Pathetic, princess. So fucking pathetic. You have no shame!” Jungkook grunts before giving into what you asked him to do. His hand snakes under your t-shirt, finding your bare breasts. “See? Have no shame at all. You came to bed with me, without wearing a bra?” Mocks. His voice is contemptuous. He instantly starts to mould, his thumb flicking over your nippels occasionally. Pays equal attention to both of your tits. Pinches your perky pebbles. “Such a slut!”

In your defense, you didn’t expect this to happen. You expected to go to sleep alone. It’s not fair to assume that. But who would care? Certainly not you because every demeaning word of him is making your body shudder. Your pussy aches. Your empty hole clenches around nothing. And all you want is that emptiness to go. Want that to change. Desperately want to be filled. Especially, since Jungkook is back to grinding. 

“Oh, god… Oh, fuck!” You moan aloud, throwing all the remaining sanity and care into the wind. 

“Yeah? Does this feel good, pretty?”

You nod violently. 

“How good? Are you dripping already? Are you making a mess for me?” 

You nod again, followed by another needy moan. Jungkook curses before he stops playing with your tits. You try to protest which just dies in your throat when he drags his hand down through your stomach. Down and down, and stops just below your waistband. 

You wait patiently with a bated breath. Completely still despite your heavy breathing. It feels like your skin is burning where his fingers are drawing lewd patterns. But he doesn’t take it further. No matter how long you wait, the next step doesn’t come. Not even when you start to whimper. So, you decide you have no other option but to become even lower. 

“Oh, please… Jungkook…” You beg, all the while spreading your legs as much as you can. 

“Holy fuck!... You want me to touch you? Want me to touch your filthy cunt?” Jungkook squeezes you in his hold, finally starting to lose it. 

“Yes, p-pl-please, yes. Touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

“M-my… fuck.. Jungkook please…” You trail off, burning with shame. How degrading it is to say that. You feel like words are turning into dust in your mouth. Jungkook, though, isn't letting you off the hook that easily. 

“Touch you where you filthy whore?” He barks, practically crushing you into his body. You inhale a sharp breath in a fruitless attempt to find the courage. Despite everything, despite the shame, you want him to touch you. 

“M-my c-cunt…” You manage to push the bitter words out of your mouth, pleasing Jungkook immensely that he doesn’t even waste a second. His hands go inside your cozy shorts within a beat of a heart. He cups your pussy without further ado. Then his middle finger is sliding along your slit, poking at your entrance and gathering up the wetness. It all happens so fast. The next thing you know is he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit. Occasionally shifts between slightly pressing at your hole. His hard cock still scouring against your ass. And you’re dangerously nearing that peak. Every flick against your clit makes your head spin. 

Only if Jungkook allows it, though. He doesn’t. Each time you start to tense he slows down. Changes his rhythm. Then stops altogether, just to start the same thing all over again. Gets you literally drooling. Leaving only him and pleasure in your mind. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing that you don’t even realize when you start to cry for his cock. 

“Please, please, please…”

“God damn it, pretty.. You need my cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes… Want you… please…”

“But I thought you didn’t want me to even touch you?”

“Bu-but I wa-want you to… n-now.”

Another laugh. “Do you even know how miserable you sound?” Jungkook pinches your clit, making your thighs shake. “But it’s okay baby, you’re being such a good girl for me. Maybe, you deserve my cock.” He rasps in your ear. You almost fall into a false allusion that he’s finally going to give it to you when he pushes the next words out. “But I’m sure, you said you hate me. You said you never will be mine. You fucking flinched away when I was just trying to touch your hand. Now you want my cock?” Flickering of his finger over your clit comes to an abrupt stop. Before you can even comprehend it, he pulls his hand out of your pants. “I don’t think you truly want it.”

It’s ridiculous the way you panicked. Undignified, how you grab his hand, not letting him take it away. 

“No, no, please, no, Jungkook. I want you.. I promise.. I really need you.” Mortifying, when you open your mouth. 

“You need me? Yeah?” Jungkook leans into you again, closing the short distance he created. Mumbles in your ear. “Then prove it, princess. Beg!” 

This time it doesn’t take much more persuading or convincing for you to actually do it. Words start to flow out of your mouth like a broken damn. Even out of your control. Yet, no matter how much you plead and beg, all he gives you is more teasing. His hand back inside your pants and melting your brain and soaking your thighs. And just as he edges you for what must be the hundredth time you snap, falling into the lowest you can go. 

“Oh, god pl-please.. Something… Gi-give me something Kook. At least the tip. I need just so-something…” 

And with that you break Jungkook as well. 

“Holy fuck! You little slut!” He curses aloud. But he finally relents. You don’t even get to comprehend what’s happening before he is yanking your pants down and doing the same to his as well. All you can do is inhale a shaky breath before you feel the tip of his hardened cock at your sloppy entrance. 

Finally! Fucking finally!

You almost sigh in relief when he pushes inside you. Slowly. Agonizingly so. An inch by pleasurable inch he stretches your entrance. You moan lowly at the pleasure, waiting for him to keep going and bury himself deep inside you. Only for that to never come. He stops yet again. You turn your head around, catching his face properly for the first time this night. And the sight that treats you is nothing less than you expected. 

Divine. 

Godly. 

Sin. 

His entire face is flushed and eyes all pupils. Brows pulled together and eyes closed shut. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

He is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Jeon Jungkook is impractical. Unreal. Maybe he is an illusion. Just as the thought crosses your head he opens his eyes, catching your gaze. And you clench around his tip tightly, completely unconsciously, eliciting a beautiful moan from his throat. He rewards you with a shallow thrust. Then another. Just with only his tip inside you and driving you crazy. You question him with your confused expression. Luckily for you he reads it. 

“Why baby? You asked just for the tip… I’m only giving you what you asked for.” He smirks through his haze. 

A whimper of frustration tangles in your throat. Yet you clench around him even harder. Every demeaning word from him is fueling your fire. That’s exactly what makes you clutch onto his hand tightly before pushing back on his half sheathed cock inside you. Changing the fact from half sheathed to fully sheathed. He slides inside you swiftly. Just one push and he’s safely buried inside you, knocking the wind out of your lungs. 

You both stilled, reveling in the feeling. Just for a moment, however. Next moment, Jungkook is gripping your face, roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks painfully. He turns your face around and leans forward until the tips of your noses touch. 

“You need to learn how to listen and be fucking patient, baby. You don’t want to be a good girl? You want to act like a needy slut? Can’t wait to get this pussy ruined?” He presses a barely there, feathery kiss to your lips. Stark contrasts the way he’s touching you and his filthy words. “Okay then, I’ll give that to you. I’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop.” He drawls. That’s the only warning you get before he drags his hips back and rams into you, making you scream his name. He does it again, again, and again. Lets your face go so he can hold your leg up. And as if you’ve not humiliated and embarrassed yourself enough, all it takes is just a few hard thrusts for your prolonged orgasm to crash over you. 

“God, fuck yes, sult! Ah fuck, squeeze my cock…” Jungkook hides his face in your neck, inhaling your scent , getting drunk on you. “Fuck, pretty you feel even better than I imagined.” Growls as his hips keep thrusting forward without a mercy. Not even slowing down to let you catch your lost breath. “You have—” He gasps in between his harsh thrusts. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to have you, pretty…” His teeth sink into the sensitive skin of your neck, arousing you more and more. “I dreamt of this fucking day… you have no fucking idea how much this means to me…” He drags his hand across your body, from your breasts to your stomach. “God damn it, princess…. You know what? I need more… c’mon, on your back—” He withdraws from you fast, making you flinch at the sensitivity. “And I need you naked.” 

He doesn’t give you much time to comply with his commands. As soon as he pulls his cock out, he’s pushing you into your back. Even before you can register the movement your remaining clothes are practically ripped away from your body, his clothes following closely.

See now, Jungkook has ridden you into your lowest level already. Has made you say things you wouldn't have said in any other occasions. Had made you beg and plead. But now, as you are laid beneath him, looking at him with your glossy eyes, squirming and impatient, legs already spread without anybody forcing you to do so, it feels worse. It’s one thing if he’s forcing this on you. Leaving you without any options. But to be the one who’s asking for it. 

It makes your stomach churn. But the case is, even that doesn’t stop you from humping the air waiting for him to get back inside you. 

What’s wrong with you!

It’s all Jungkook’s fault. 

You hate him. You hate everything about him. You swear you do. Still, you exhale softly as your hands move across his chiseled abs and chest the moment he gets rid of his t-shirt. Still, you curl your hands around his neck and press your lips to his, turning it into a messy kiss of tongue and saliva without an ounce of hesitance. Still, you keep him as close to you as possible when he pushes inside you again with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. Still, you beg him for more when he starts picking up his pace again. 

“H-harder please…”

“More Jungkook…”

“Please don’t stop… keep going…” 

You keep screaming. 

“I won’t baby. I’ll not fucking stop. Take this cock, yeah? Like that… yes… fuck!” 

He keeps promising. 

And he keeps his promise. He doesn’t stop. He fucks orgrasm out of orgasm from you. 

He makes love to you while hovering over your shaking figure, kissing and biting your lips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear. 

He fucks you while holding your writsts above your head and scattering purple marks across your chest and neck. 

He worships you by kissing every inch of skin he can reach. 

So does he pound you with your legs pushed over his shoulders. 

You have no idea how much time has passed or how many times you actually came. Only thing you’re aware of is the pleasure and Jungkook as now he’s slams into you from behind. Your head pressed into the pillow. He’s clutching both of your hands behind you, taking extra leverage. And all you can do is drool all over you and bite onto the soft pillow. You’re getting tired now. But despite all that, you want Jungkook to cum as well. 

That shouldn’t be your concern at all. At least you can turn this whole thing about you. You are receiving pleasure. You are using him. Not the other way around. That’s not what’s happening, however. You’re battling your sensitivity, and exhaustion because you want him to cum. Judging by the way his thrusts are turning sloppy and his ragged breaths you know that’s about to happen. Even the thought is making your tummy clench. Despite how wearried out you are, you feel like about to reach another orgasm, just at the thought. 

Then just as the thought passes, Jungkook’s voice breaks your stupor. 

“Gonna cum, pretty. Gonna cum inside you, yeah? Fucking make you mine…”

You think you just die at the spot. It’s not possible to feel more aroused. But you do. Even a cry leaves your parched throat. 

“Please… yes…” You try in vain to turn your head and look at his divine face but he steals your moment when his hand leaves yours just to grab your hair. You let out a surprised squeal when you’re being yanked back. Your back collides with his chest. His hand immediately snakes around your throat. Squeezes. Not enough to hurt you but enough to cut your air flow.

“You want that, pretty? Want me to cum inside you?” Jungkook growls, his thrusts turning sloppy and sloppier. 

You nod, feeling your head getting dizzy. It’s his hold on your neck that's keeping you upright. Your legs are buckling under your weight. 

“Say it aloud, princess. Say you want me to cum inside you. Fucking beg for my cum.” Jungkook presses his fingers around your throat a little more, like an unspoken threat. 

“P-please c-cum inside me… Pl-please…”

“Again.”

“Oh god, please… pl-please… fill me up, Jungkook. W-ant your cum. I need your cum…” You choke out, struggling to breathe. 

“Again, whore. Beg like you really want it. That’s notー” A powerful, harsh thrust. And his grip tightens a little more. “Enough.”

“Please… Jungkook… Want to be so full of your cum. I- Iー” Fortunately for you, those next words do the trick. Just as the words leave your mouth Jungkook stills, his cock twitching inside you. You feel the warmth engulf your insides. Thick ropes of cum painting your walls and putting you into a delirious state. His grip on your throat loosens. 

You stay that way, pressed into each other for another long second before Jungkook lowers both of you into the mattress. A deep sigh of satisfaction which lets out by you mixes into the heavy breathing of Jungkook. 

You feel light. As if you’ve put all your weight down. You feel like there’s nothing wrong in your life. Even the pain has dissipated somewhere. And you close your eyes into a pure bliss of silence. No pressure, no pain, no problem there to bother you anymore. 

……………………………

You can’t believe you did that!

You scrub your chest hard. 

How could you? 

You scrub your stomach even harder.

How did you do that?

You feel sick. Nauseous. 

It was with an unpleasantly twisting stomach that you ran into the bathroom a few minutes ago. Just after you woke up, next to Jungkook- the very same man who dragged you across hell. Then to make matters worse, you were tangled up with himー comfortably. 

Comfortably!

And naked!

You sprang out of bed, even not caring for the fact that you might wake Jungkook up. Nor did you wait to see if that was the case. You’ve wanted to throw up. You’ve felt like that but no matter how long you’ve waited kneeling in front of the toilet, nothing came out. So, you’ve opted for a shower. Which is what you’re doing now. 

Tears uncontrollably flooding through your eyes. Muffled sobs escaping past your lips. Steaming hot water cascading across your body. 

You have no idea how long it’s been since you entered the shower box. Maybe it’s just a few minutes or maybe it’s been hours. And you’ve been scrubbing your body like crazy ever sinceー to no avail. It doesn’t matter how hard and long you rub your skin, you feel like it’s not going away. The imprints of his calloused hands. Imprints of his soft lips and the coldness of that damn lip ring. The wetness of his hot tongue and the tingle of his breath. Then the fullness you’ve felt when he was inside you. 

You feel like he's still inside you. You can still feel the harsh thrusts. Can feel his skin slapping against yours. 

How did you let yourself do that? 

Now, you can’t get rid of him. 

You put extra pressure on your skin, scrubbing even harder. You lather on more and more shower gel, then go back to scrub. At this rate, you might end up actually hurting yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You need him gone. 

You bring your hand down between your thighs, starting to scrub your inner thighs. This is the part you’ve paid the most attention to. You woke up with his cum dried on your thighs. Another, louder sob erupts as you try to get rid of the unseen evidence of the previous night. You wish you could wash your memory and soul as well. Wipe off everything. You want the previous night to be一

The sound of the bathroom door banging against the wall makes you jump on your spot. Yet you don’t get to let out much of a reaction before Jungkook barges inside the shower box. He wastes no time as he roughly snatches the scrubbing towel you’ve been using to scrub your body. You flinch and stumble a step back as Jungkook throws the towel away, blindly. 

“Fucking stop that!” He yells as he closes the distance between you, forcing you to take a few more shaky yet hurried steps back and cover your head with both your hands. You don’t even care for the fact that you’re stark naked. In all your time with him, you’ve never heard him raise his voice like this. “Fucking stop you little…” This time he grits through his clenched teeth. You cower behind your hands even more, which Jungkook finds to be more irritating. He yanks your hands away. Holds them apart and gives you a rough shake. “Don’t be a fucking bitch, (___).” He pulls you forward. 

All you manage is a tremble and a whimper. 

You’ve seen Jungkook mad. Or not. You’ve thought you’ve seen him mad. Him going berserk over the phone was nothing similar to this. Him raising his voice across a phone was nothing like seeing his face right now. He looks like a beast, almost inhuman. All of his beautiful features masked with pure fury. Eyes wild and bloodshot, jaw slack. A vein throbs at his temple. 

Jungkook looks crazy. 

Jungkook looks capable of murdering. 

Jungkook, the man who treated you oh so softly despite being a monster, looks like he’s about to snap you in half. 

“You said you wanted it” He shakes you again, this time even harder, pulling out more and more whimpers and cries. You find yourself even incapable of replying to him. Your heart pounding in your throat. Your vision dims.

Maybe this is how you’ll die. He’ll strangle you to the death. 

“You asked me to touch you, (___).” Jungkook’s voice lowered an octave this time. “You asked me to fuck you. You said you wanted it. D-don’t一” His voice cracks a bit and you think a flash of hurt breaks the fury in his eyes. And something inside you turns. Blinding fear subsides a little. He heaves a heavy sigh before speaking again. “Don’t act like I forced that on you.” He chokes out. The feeling inside you intensifies. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your head throbs with the rhythm. You gather courage to peer into his eyes. That beast is there but you see the pain. “Don’t be aー” He starts again. 

You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Maybe it’s fear. You wanted to distract him. Partially. You absolutely do not wish to die here. But then there was a guilt. Regret. A hurt that stirs your insides. Whatever the reason could be, you surprise yourself when you lunge forward, silencing Jungkook’s words when you press your lips to him. Initially, it’s just a press of the lips where you both do nothing, but then he pushes you back at the same time he starts kissing you desperately, madly, furiously. You return it to the best. 

Your back hits the cold wall behind you. Jungkook kisses you with the same fervor for a few more intense minutes before he pulls away. That’s only when you realize that the shower is still running. That Jungkook is half naked as well and is only wearing his boxers. That he’s getting drenched.

You peer at his face for a moment. The way the fury is still there but now laced with lust. You watch the way the droplets slid over his face. Over his chiseled cheekbones. Over his pink lips and the damn lip ring. A shudder ripple through you before you capture his bottom lip between your teeth, bite gently, soon falling into another kiss. Jungkook moans in appreciation. His hands leave yours so he can skim across your curves instead. Your back, waist, ass, stops under your thighs. Then in one swift moment he picks you up from the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist on instincts. 

Jungkook is the one who pulls away again. This time he does it with a harsh bite on your lower lip. Harsh enough that you mewl in pain before he sucks on the spot and soothes the sting. He lets your lip go before resting his forehead against you. Panting. 

“You wanted to get rid of me?” He questions, with that dangerous tilt in his voice, sharing one breath with you. You don’t answer him. Just try to fill your lungs with enough oxygen. “You wanted to escape me?” He repeats to which he doesn’t get an answer again. He presses another kiss to your lips, then drags those kisses toward your jaw. From there to your neck. Biting and sucking gently. Adding more marks into your already bruised skin. Mumbles his next words into your throat. “Guess what baby? You’ll never escape me.” With that he raises his face back to peer into your eyes. “I’ll fucking taint your memmories with me,” he growls. “I’ll fucking live inside your head, I’ll fucking burn myself into you. You. Are. Never. Going to escape me.” 

You tremble once again. Partially from a fire inside your stomach but partially from an unexplainable fear. Jungkook holds you with one arm for a bit as he shuffles with his boxers, pushing them down. Even the prospect makes your breath hitch and pussy clench. He holds you in his hold securely. “You are mine, baby.” He plunges inside you, ripping out a cry from you at the unexpectedness of his movements. Luckily you are already wet enough that he slides in easily. He stops once he’s buried to the hilt inside you. “You’ll be mine.” Gives you an experimental thrust. Your head falls back, hitting the tile and you clench around him violently. “And don’t try to deny that because trust me, princess, I’m gonna make you mine one way or another. I’ll rip your heart out of you and keep it inside a box if that’s what it takes. Soー” A harsh thrust interrupts his threat. “It’s time you should accept that you’re meant to be mine, pretty.” He picks up his speed and starts pounding into you. Calling you his over and over again. 

“Mine. Mine. Mine…”

………………………..

Jungkook never wanted to do something that you wouldn’t like. Never wanted to scare you. Even if he had, unintentionally, a few times. But the thing is, you’re not entirely blameless. You are a little stubborn witch in disguise. A brat. How hard it has been for him to keep you at bay. 

Jungkook found himself questioning often, why you were so reluctant to accept him. Be his. Understand that you two were always meant to be together. That you’ve always been tied to him with a red string. But then he believed you would come to accept that one day. He knew you would actually return his feelings. Give him what he’s been craving so badly for years. 

Years!

It has taken more time than he had expected, however. From the day he got a hold of you again through his meticulous plan to the day he finally brought you into this place that  was supposed to be your safe haven. It has taken longer to make you see things even if it’s not fully yet. 

But god, the trouble he had to go through!

First, it was making sure you wouldn’t do something that’s stupid and hurt yourself. Then there was the problem of controlling himself. It was as if holding his breath forever. You were a walking, talking ball of temptation. Jungkook had the hardest time having you around, in your cute shorts and comfy t-shirts which he picked out for you. You were the most adorable yet the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been watching you from afar for so long. Can anyone blame him for nearly losing it when he finally had you in a close proximity. Close enough he could touch you, hold you, and hear you. 

The temptation was like a demon on his shoulder. He found himself in moments where he was a hair’s breadth away from kissing you until you were breathless. Bending you over and fucking the senses into you. But, thanks to all the high spirits above, he managed to control the urges. Because, in the end, Jungkook never wanted to do something that you didn’t want him to. 

Not because it was hard. It was easy in fact. But Jungkook always wanted you to want him. You never wanted him. Not back in your college years. Not even when you were chatting with him. True, you texted him every and each day but you truly didn’t know who he was now, did you? 

Then, suddenly all of his hard work paid off that way. 

Suddenly, you were seeking him. You were asking for him. You were willingly being with him. 

Just like now. 

It’s been a few days since your first night. Since Jungkook finally bent your stubborn will enough to see him. See his love. Yet still, Jungkook can’t help but gasp quietly in surprise when you straddle his lap, emerging out of nowhere. He can’t help but feel like pinching him to make sure he isn’t dreaming. 

You get comfortable in his lap. He is sitting on his gaming chair, not particularly playing games but he’s stressing over this one client. Some people are just morons who can’t understand simple things. Jungkook had leaked a very important piece of information to the public on this said client's request. It was the deal they made and the fucker should not be contacting Jungkook again. But here he is, asking for another deal. This time to revise what he already did. See now, Jungkook might be very good at his job. Sneaking into any database and leaking anything for the right amount of money. The thing is, however, he isn’t God and therefore the power of undoing something isn’t on his hand. Life, unfortunately, has no control plus z. His idiot of a client isn’t understanding that. 

And Jungkook was at the verge of finding the man and choking him to death himself when you appeared, now hiding your face in his neck. You plant a soft kiss on his neck making him shudder. A moan almost slips past his lips. He aligns his neck to give you more access. You haven’t said much since you straddled his lap, your legs placed either side of him. You pick up on his cue and strat peppering soft kisses over and over. Jungkook unconsciously wraps an arm around your body. 

“What are you doing, baby?” He questions as you move toward his throat. 

“You seemed tense.” You answer him, softly. 

Fuck! 

Jungkook finds this to be a huge victory. Despite all the time he had you lying beneath him and moaning his name, you mostly didn’t talk with him. And to think you care about him.

Did he die?

Is this heaven?

“Yeah? And you want to help me.” He starts rubbing your back soothingly. You nod into his throat. “Fuck!” Jungkook curses at the sensation of your lips on him and your admission. “God, pretty, you gonna kill me,” he gives a gentle smack on your perfect ass, marveling at the way you whimper in return. “What do you want to do, baby? How are you gonna help me?” 

You pull away from worshipping his neck at his words, facing him and peering at his eyes with your glinting eyes. A little bit hooded and glossy. You exhale a shaky breath. “I wanna- I- uh- can I suck you off, please?” Whisper oh so softly that Jungkook almost doesn’t hear you. He does somehow and the way his heart flutters must be risky to his health. Maybe he’s about to have a heart attack. 

He never wants anything more. This. You are on his hold and begging to please him. Jungkook has finally won. The flutter in his heart soon travels south creating a stir in his lower stomach and groin. He was becoming hard slowly since the moment you sat on his lap but now at your words, he goes rock hard in a blink. 

“Fuck! God, yes… You don’t have to ask, pretty. You get whatever you want.” He kisses your lips softly. “You want to suck daddy’s cock?” Asks against your mouth, making you tremble. You nod hurriedly. If he’s to push his hand inside your pants, he knows he’d find you already dripping wet. See, it is fate. You’re even this compatible in bed. He knows which button to play to get you high without any drugs. And you know which strings to pull to get him drunk without alcohol. “Go on then, on your knees, princess.” He commands, flipping that switch inside his brain to become the man you want him to be. You instantly start to shuffle down when he stops you once again. “Get rid of the clothes first, want you naked, kneeling in front of me and choking on my cock.”

You comply with him without a second request. Don’t even wait until Jungkook pushes down his sweats completely before you hungrily wrap your hand around his shaft and lips around his tip, pushing him into a blissful haze. From there it’s just a mess of drool, tears, and the sound of gagging. You don’t disappoint him the slightest. You prove him right again and again. With your tongue swirling around his tip. With him hitting the back of your throat. You prove that you’re just where you should be. And Jungkook’s head is spinning. He’s sure that he’s going to explode. Yet within few minutes of fucking your throat, he had to drag you into his lap again. 

This time, however, your back facing him, your legs spread widely, and his cock buried inside you. Jungkook would’ve been more than happy to make you swallow his cum but he couldn't help but being a bit greedy and wanting the warm confines of your pussy. You clench around him every time his middle finger garzes over your clit and like clockwork, Jungkook feels his cock twitching. 

“You feel so good, slut. So fucking good… You love daddy’s cock?” He asks in your ear. You moan out an inaudible ‘yes’. Jungkook rewards you with a slow thrust. You look so blissful. So lost in him. So fucked up. Makes him want to see and try how much he can push you. How farther you’ll bend for him. “You look pretty, baby, so beautiful,” He kisses your shoulder. “Would you like to see how beautiful you are?” He asks to which he doesn’t get an answer in return. He doesn’t mind that, simply knows you’re so far gone to be able to perform coherent thoughts let alone words. “Would you like to record this baby? So, we can watch it again, andー” Rest of his words die on his tongue when you squeeze his length so hard. “Holy fuck! You like that? You want that?” You answer him with another nod but this time he wants your words. “Words baby…”

“Yes. Yes Jungkook… I…” 

That’s enough for him. He drags the chair forward keeping you on him safely, fumbling with his phone with one hand. He places it on the desk, propped against his monitor, front cam opened, and facing you both. Capturing a beautiful view of you filled with him.  And he hits the record button. Pulls the chair back to adjust into the best position. 

“There you go, slut. C’mon now, ride me!”

…………………………….

You are lying on your side, curled up on the couch and back pressed against Jungkook. His arms are wrapped around you protectively. Titanic is playing on the TV and you’re doing your best to pay attention with Jungkook’s mindless nibbling on your ear. 

Lately, you’ve grown accustomed to being close and intimate with him even when sex isn’t on the table. You’ve learnt to accept all the pampering, cuddles, and innocent kisses. You’re not sure when exactly that happened.

First, it was all about sex. After the time he fucked you in the shower and swore that you’ll never escape him, you promised yourself that you’ll never allow him another chance to even  lay a finger on you. That was going well until he sneaked into the bed that night. Each and every time you swore that it was going to be the last just to fail miserably. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no, every time his lips pressed against yours, his hands roamed across your body, his breathy voice whispered against your ears. Jungkook had it all easy and one day you’ve decided to let it happen without any resistance from your mind. Because, in the end, your body was going to betray you anyway. 

Ever since, your life has been one haze of pleasure. There was no space for pain. Even the memories of your life before thisーthe life full of misery and bitchy people has faded into the past. Jungkook has been keeping you busy all the time. Busy enough that nothing could disturb your blissful peace.

Through endless sex and mind shattering orgasms, time has slipped through your fingers like a passing breeze. You think there is no space in this entire apartment where Jungkook hasn’t had you in. Kitchen. Couch. Balcony. Pressed against a window. Even on top of the washer. And every way he can. Tied up to his bed post. Blindfolded. Even had made you ride his shoe. Had made you masturbate while he watched and recorded. Had you plugged in with his cum inside. Every kind of kink he can think of. 

You have started to lose sense of the time. Every day feels the same. You’ve fallen into the same routine. And despite all the pleasure, you’re growing tired of it. Maybe you need something new to focus on. 

“Jungkook?” You call out softly. He stops nibbling on your ear immediately and pays attention to you. 

“Yes, pretty?”

“Can you- uh- buy me a book maybe…  please,  I’m getting  kinda bored…”

A soft gasp treats you, forcing you to turn around and look at him in confusion. He’s regarding you with a wide grin. You raise a brow in question. 

“Of course, I can, baby. I can buy you anything you want. You don’t have to ask like that. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you right away.” A gentle kiss to your cheek. “So, a book, huh? You’re not a reader?” He teases. 

You almost open your mouth to question how he would know before it hits you. He knows. He knows every damn thing. What’s your favorite food to, now your favorite position. Then there is you, knowing nothing except his name. You turn around completely, facing him properly.

“I am not but I can start reading.” You tilt your head up to peer at his eyes. He opens his mouth to reply but you beat him into it. “How come you have so much money?” You question without letting yourself weigh the consequences of questioning. Jungkook’s face falls. 

“I don’t have a lot of money.” He answers gently. 

“You do,” you gesture around the lavish apartment. “This apartment is the most luxurious place I’ve ever been to. And,” you clutch his shirt. “It’s like you’re never stepping outside this house. You’re earning all this money by working from home? What kind of job pays so much?”

Jungkook sighs. “I’m good at developing. Apps and stuff,” He looks carefully at you, as though he’s expecting a harsh reaction from you. You almost do before you catch yourself in time. It’s all past anyway. “I-uh- let’s say I work in I.T, yeah?” That’s the clue for you to let the topic go. 

“Where’s your family?” So you change it. 

“I don’t have one.” He answers that more easily than the previous one. 

“Oh! You’re orphー”

“They’re both alive but I refuse to have any contact with them. They’ve made my life a living hell.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You apologize quickly. A heaviness engulfing your chest at his words. Jungkook chuckles and brushes stray hair away from your face. 

“It’s fine, pretty. Why all the questions, though?” 

“Just because. I just realized I don’t know much about you.”

“Yeah? Why do you want to know about me?”

“I- I don’t know. I just want to know.” You shrug nonchalantly. Yet as you watch, Jungkook’s face lights up. Eyes glinting and lips spreading into a wide grin. Wide enough that he has to bite down on his lip to contain it. In a matter of seconds, he turns into a boy who's ten years younger than him. And you think you see a faint redness in his cheeks as well. 

…………………………..

Jungkook knows that you have no idea how much it means to him to know you’re getting closer and closer every day. First sex, then all the shared casual moments, and you were interested in knowing him. And then you asked him for something? 

Isn’t that what lovers do?

Aren’t you acting like a cute girlfriend?

Oh, the fluttering of his heart and stomach you’re causing. Jungkook doesn't think he’s been happier than this in his entire life. He’s riding a high just by watching how shocked and excited you are kneeling in front of the books he brought for you. 

“What the hell, Jungkook?” You look up at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. 

“You asked for books.” He gestures at the box before you. 

“No…” you groan. “I asked for a book. Not for a whole damn library?” Start to rummage through the box, pulling out a book. “What am I gonna do with so many books, Jungkook?”

“Read them.” Jungkook kneels beside you, stealing a kiss into your hair while he does.

“I’m a slow reader, I’ll fucking die before I ever finish reading these.” You sigh exasperatedly, being a little dramatic. To be honest, it’s not even that many. 

“Hey, it’s okay, pretty. I told you I’m gonna buy you anything. It’s fine if you can’t read them all or you start to get bored at it. Find a new hobby and tell me what you want.” He takes your hand in his. Kisses your soft hands delicately. You look at him with sparkling eyes. 

Fuck!

You’re turning to your normal self slowly. You’re getting your color back. Putting on weight. You smile more and talk to him more. Few more days and you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been. 

See, Jungkook knew exactly what you needed. He was right all along. 

Just a few more days and he’ll be able to let his guard down. Stop watching your every move like a hawk. Rescheduling and canceling his plans because he can’t leave you alone in here. He managed a good enough security system including cameras but he’ll never know. He had to keep a close eye—for now.  But soon you’ll never think about leaving him. 

Because he can see the way you slowly understand that you belong to him. 

“You’re crazy.” You grumble as you get to your feet. Jungkook follows your actions. You take a step toward him, and bide your time for a minute before standing on your tiptoes and kiss him. Hard and deep. 

“Whoa is that a thank you?” He pants once you pull away. 

You nod. “There’s more.” Say as you throw your arms around his neck and jump. He catches you up by your thighs with the practice ease. 

“Yeah? Another video?”

“Yes, please…”

………………………….

You stay still, unsure of what to do as Jungkook gently cups your face in his hands. 

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He asks for what must be the millionth time. You nod again, trying to appear confident and nonchalant. But the thing is, you’re nervous. Every nerve ending in your body is ablaze. 

Jeon Jungkook is about to leave you alone in this house for the first time. Something about an unavoidable meeting with a client. 

You don’t know if  he’s ever done it without your knowledge before. Maybe he had. But at this moment, he’s doing it with your full acknowledgement. He’s stopped locking you in that damn room every time. Mainly because you’ve been attached to him by the hip lately. You’ve started sharing a bed and a shower. He had no reason to be worried about you trying anything funny, anymore. This, however, is his first time giving you this kind of freedom. And you’re unsure what to do with it. 

“Pretty?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows in concern. 

You clear your throat quickly. “I can Jungkook, I’m a grown woman.” State as you free your face from his hold. You both know that he isn’t referring to your capabilities of staying home alone. You both know he’s asking if you’d not betray his trust. That you’ll not try something that would make both of you regret. 

He smiles softly at your admission. “Well then, I won’t be more than an hour.” He finally takes a step away. You return his smile, staying rooted in your place. He takes another and another, walking backward. Just as he’s about to turn around, you snap out of your stupor. You rush forward, five quick steps, and press a kiss to his lips.

Creases between Jungkook’s brows finally ease up as you pull away. 

“Be quick.” You mumble, turning him around and you give him a gentle push forward. This time he doesn’t stop you. You walk with him to the front door, wait till he walks out and disappears before releasing a shaky breath.

For the first time, you’re completely alone here. 

………………………..

You don’t know what you should do.

All these times, you’ve never even thought about an escape. Jungkook has kept you busy. Busy enough that you’ve forgotten you’re a prisoner here. That he’s your captor. Not someone who you can trust or your lover. But the thing is, you don’t know what to do? 

Do you try to run away? To where? To your old house? To the police station? 

Then what? Do you still want to confront Hoseok? Do you still want to meet your best friend? Yes, probably. Maybe…

But, do you have the courage to escape? 

You don’t even know what kind of security he has. In your first few days you were  so keen to know every minuscule detail about this place, planning your grand escape. Now you know nothing. 

You stand up from the couch after staring into the empty black screen of the TV for the past twenty minutes. Nothing is going to happen by wasting your time. You make your way slowly to Jungkook’s guest room where he has kept his computer, without any purpose. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

It’s just that you’re too restless to stay put. There’s a clock ticking and if you want to do something, you need to be fast about it. No, there’s no ifs, you should do something. This is your chance.  

But the problem is that you don’t really feel like doing anything. 

An inaudible groan of frustration leaves your throat. This can’t be happening? You can’t be serious. After everything, after the hell he put you through, you can’t simply want to stay with him. 

Sex was good, sure. He was treating you well, sure. Still, he’s the same person who guided you into a trap. You’ve been stuck in that trap for a while now. 

Yet even the thought of escaping. Running away from Jungkook gives you another level of fear. As if the safe bubble you’ve been living in is about to burst. It’s scary. To think that you’ll be back in the world, wandering around. Facing Daebi and Hoseok who have a fair share in your misfortune. Maybe others do too. Maybe they don’t want you back in their life at all. Jungkook does, though. Your parents must’ve accepted that you were long gone and moved on. There is no one out there who is waiting for you. Jungkook is here for you. 

But is this the life you want? 

What about walking among people on busy nights? You didn’t love your job but you loved earning your own money. What about living your life of your own accord and not having to rely on someone else? What about travelling the world? What about late night clubbing? Meeting new people? Worrying about buying new expensive clothes? What about life? 

You can’t live your whole life this way. Stuck in an apartment while your entire world revolves around one man. You don’t want it to be like that. It’s not like you’ve fallen in love with him anyway. Right? Of course, not. You’re not a victim of Stockholm syndrome. 

No. No. No… 

You have to do something!

You take a few rushed steps toward Jungkook’s working table, without knowing what you���re actually doing. Maybe you should just risk it and try to open the front door. Or maybe you can turn on his computer and send a message- not to Daebi or any of your friends- but maybe to someone else. Police. Or anyone you could reach. You can check the drawers for a second phone. You couldー

“Fuck!” A loud curse leaves your mouth as an unexpected pain erupts from your left foot. You’ve hit it on the leg of the table. You come to an abrupt halt, mewling in pain, and bend down to rub your foot and ease the pain. You stay in that position and rub your poor toes for another long second before finally straightening up, ready to continue your aimless mission. Only to mewl again when the top of your head hits something. Luckily for you, it was just a pile of books that dropped down to the floor at the impact, with a loud thud. 

“For fucks sake!” Irritation bubbles inside you. You bring your hand up to rub your head this time, eyeing the fallen pile of books. You’ve no time to reorganize it. You already wasted enough time. That’s what you almost do. 

Almost, though. 

Just before you turn around again, your heart beating in your throat, you notice the photo on the floor. Probably was inside a book and slipped out when they dropped down. You would’ve ignored it if it wasn’t for the person in the photo. You can mistake anyone else for someone else. But yourself?

A sharp inhale fills your lungs to the brim before you let that breath out. 

It’s you who’s in the photo. Undoubtedly and unmistakably. So what? It’s not that much of a surprise to Jungkook to have a photo of you when you know he’s been stalking you. But what gets you frozen in mid motion is the fact that the you in the photo was from ages ago. 

College?  

You kneel before the scattered books and papers, feeling your legs buckle. Something uneasy gathers and swirls inside you, twisting your guts unpleasantly. You know this feeling well. You’ve been getting such kind of feelings all of your damned life and everytime you weren’t wrong to suspect something bad. Because every time you felt this way, something bad happened. 

You pick up the photo with trembling hands to take a closer look. You might be mistaken about the time frame. 

A young, carefree girl smiled back at you. You’re not mistaken. No. Definitely not. This photo was taken years ago. This photo was from another world. A world you’ve left behind and forgotten for the good. 

It’s from your college days!

You feel your head start to spin. Memories of blood plague your mind. Screams of agony echo inside your skull. Touch of warm hands tingles your skin. Wetness of a sweet pair of lips brushed across your lips. 

You close your eyes to shake away the unwanted memories. You can’t let this happen now. No. Yet all you can see is the blurred lights and silhouette of people. All you can smell is the cigarettes and alcohol. 

The cursed night!

This- Jungkook and his stupid app, and his kidnapping- wasn’t the first time you’ve been through hell. You’ve been through worse back then. But after so much effort- including countless therapy, changing universities, starting your degree all over, moving into a different city and years of pain and nightmares, you left that life behind. You were living a normal, good life until Hoseok broke up with you. 

Now, a single image is bringing all the buried memories up. The things you don’t want to remember. You swallow down a sob, forcing yourself to pull it together. 

It’s going to be fine…

You reopen your eyes and stare at the photo again. Fighting, battling. Trying hard not to break down on the spot. 

You can do this…

Just put the damn photo away and focus on your task… 

It’s past. It’s past. It’s past.

It was all over.

But how does Jungkook have it? 

You freeze again, brows furrowed in confusion. Did he stalk you so hard he found your old photos as well? Did he know about the past that you hate? Did he know about the pain you went through but still decided to traumatize you more? 

You clutch the photo even tighter. You’re fighting. There’s a war going inside your head. So many things happening at the same time. And you’re afraid you’re losing. 

Let the photo go…

You blankly stare at the photo for another second before, reluctantly dragging your gaze away, to the scattered books. That’s when you notice a second photo peeking out from one of the books. 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. 

Your hand works in autopilot mode when you grab the book and turn it over, dropping at least twenty photos inside it to your lap. You let the photo of you go as you start picking up one by one. Slowly first. Eyes carefully scanning over every single one of them.

You, with Daebi, at the university café.

You, with Hoseok, inside his car. 

You, with Jimin….

With Nina….

With some other people, you don’t recognize…

You. You. You.

At your classes.

At your apartment.

At your job.

Library.

You go through the photos as fast as the wind. Your speed builds up with every photo, until one makes you freeze.

It is not you. 

A person stands in front of a building you don’t recognize. He is wearing black, head to toe. Even his face is covered in a hoodie. The memories return. Blood. Screams. Light… and a guy. His hands wrapped around you, mumbling sweet nothing in your ear. His hands were covered in blood. His face was covered in a hoodie. 

Suddenly, you are sitting in the back of that business class. A meek, nerdy guy next to you. His face hidden, all you can see is a part of his cheek and set of pretty pink lips. Even with the time and all your efforts to drown those memories, you remember him like you’re staring at him. 

Lips. 

Pretty pink lips. 

You even remember the taste of those lips. The warmth of them.

Those lips should’ve faded into memory. The memories should be jumbled. You should only remember the faded bits. But strangely you don’t. Instead, you feel like you’ve seen the same lips yesterday. You feel like those lips were pressed against yours a moment ago. 

Pretty pink lips…

Out of nowhere Jungkook’s smile flashes across your mind. The way his lips stretch, making the lip ring glint. The way he bites onto his bottom lip to contain his goofy smile. That adorable, boyish smile. 

Haven’t you seen that smile before as well?

The guy who wore that hoodie, that guy who never told you his name, kept his face hidden from you, drugged you, almost killed a person in front of you. Hasn’t he smiled the same way? It was such a rare thing but you’ve seen him smile. And you’ve seen his lips. Is it possible to recognize someone with their lips? 

No…. That can’t be. No fucking way. 

You gasp for air even though there is nothing keeping you from inhaling. That familiar fear you’ve not experienced for a long time now, shoots across your body, wrapping around your bones, flesh, and skin. 

No….

Out of all the fucked up and twisted things in your life, this can’t be one. 

You hurriedly throw away the image and pick up the last one. And with that the last threads of hope you hold onto are shredded into million pieces. 

It’s an exact similar second image of the previous one. The same person is standing in the same posture in front of the same building. Yet the hood that covered his face had fallen back, revealing his face. 

The same face that had greeted you every morning for the past couple months. The face that you always found to be astonishingly handsome. The face that lured you into this trap through that AI app. 

It’s the same person. Just far, far younger. 

Jeon Jungkook!

Right then, you lose the battle. The sobs and cries you are trying so hard not to let out, escapes you as one loud gasp, followed by uncontrollable tears. Yet before that gasp can turn into loud sobs a familiar voice distracts you. 

“Pretty?”

You turn around faster than a bolt of lightning. Your eyes meet with Jungkook who stands in the doorway, scowling, confused. In another time you would’ve been scared for your life. So startled that you start to stutter. This moment, however, you don’t feel anything remotely close to fear. Instead, a rage builds up inside you. A rage that is born from a hurt. 

Ridiculous. Why would you be hurt? You should only be angry. 

“You motherfucker!” You rush into your feet. Storm toward Jungkook within a blink of an eye. “You fucking lied to me! It was you! It was you all along! You were the prick who ruined my life back then and now….” You screech through your lungs, tears mixing with your enraged words and making your voice crack. “And you lied to me! Every, fucking, person in my life…” You curl your fists into tiny balls, the photo still clutched between your fingers, as you hit Jungkook’s chest. “Everyone… lied to me…” You hit him over and over. Clenching your teeth and pouring all your anger as tears. “I trusted you… And you lied to me too… You fuckingー”

“Pretty, hey, hey…” Jungkook grabs your fists, preventing you from attacking him like a mad cat. You struggle against him the best you can but he holds you tight. “Het, pretty… fuck! Listen to me!”

“I fucking hate you Jeon Jungkook! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hateー” You scream. Jungkook muffles your screams by pulling you into his chest. “I hate you so much.” So, you mumble into his chest, giving up trying to free yourself from his hold. He’s too strong for you. 

You should be mad, but what you feel is hurt. 

Did you really trust your captor? 

“I didn’t lie to you… No, baby, I didn’t.” He mutters into your hair. You don’t give him a reply. Just break into his chest. “I was just a kid, I didn’t know what I was doing.” He continues. “I just wanted a chance to show you that I- I- uh- loved you,” His hold on you tightens. “I’ve always loved you. So damn much. But you were so gone about your pathetic ex, you didn’t even notice me. I had to do something.”

You don’t even know what he’s saying anymore. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing. Yet at the back of your mind, the pieces finally fall into place. 

“I won’t accept the defeat this time…”

“You never saw how I always loved you…”

You never paid that much of an attention to those words. Now they make sense. 

“Y-you fucking- drugged me… y-you almost let someone toー” You stutter out weakly, only to get cut off. 

“I didn’t, did I? I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you.”

You ignore what he’s saying. “Y-you let me wa-watch a-as you killed a person.”

“He didn’t die.”

As if that would change anything. 

“Oh god, why Jungkook? Why me? What did I ever do to you?”

“Don’t say that, pretty. Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook hides his face in your hair. “You have no idea how much I love you… I was just trying. I was a kid,” his voice cracks painfully, and even without looking at him, you get the suspicion that he’s joined you with the crying. “I was trying to win you over and that was a mistake. I’m so sorry, princess, don’t say you hate me. C’mon I deserve a chance. I- I- was trying while your boyfriend was getting his cock sucked by your best friend.” 

Your sobs deepen. Jungkook presses kiss after kiss into your hair. 

“I’m so sorry baby, but give me a chance… You know I’ll never hurt you. Let me tell you the full story.”

You don’t want to listen to any story. No. You don’t want this pain. 

You pull away from his chest despite his reluctance. For a second you peer into his glossy eyes. Then in the next, you pull him into a hungry kiss. 

Fuck this!

Fuck your life!

Jungkook is fucking sick. But still, you know he’s painfully in love with you. 

If you can’t escape this hell, then you might get used to it.

………………………

At Hoseok’s place

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” Jimin practically throws the tablet away. Luckily it doesn’t hit anything but just drops into the couch. 

“What do you want us to do, Jimin?” Deabi shouts across from the living room, hands dramatically thrown in the air. 

Hoseok watches wearily as his girlfriend and best friend fight over a matter that’s worth all the fighting. 

“Is that even a question, Daebi? That’s your fucking best friend. You give her up that easily?” Jimin says, with a rage Hoseok has only seen once — on that cursed night.

“I’m tired, for God’s sake! I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore.” Daebi slumps her shoulders. 

“You’re a fucking coward!” Jimin points a finger at her. Then turns his glare to Hoseok. “You too. You both are fucking cowards. First, you went behind her back and then when she needed you, you just give up?”

“We- we’re not—” Hoseok tries to argue when Jimin stops him. 

“Save the fucking excuses, man. I can’t believe you dragged us into this shit as well? I can’t believe you did that to her.” Jimin scoffs. “But guess what? I’m better than you. I’m not fucking giving up.”

“Then what the hell are you going to do?” Hoseok yells for the first time as well. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t want to give up. No. But things have turned to a point where there is no answer for anything. After exactly four months of continuous searching, and no clue, everyone has accepted that you are dead. The case isn’t officially closed yet but the fire it had caused has died down. 

One of their good friends who was actively working on the case has informed Hoseok that there might be no hope. And after a year, the case would be officially closing and the court would declare you dead, citing your mental instability. He had asked Hoseok to give up on hope. 

Apparently, Jimin isn’t ready to do so. Which is good. Hoseok would be happy to be a part of that. But the question remains. What are they going to do? An unwavering determination without a plan is stupid, which describes Jimin at this moment.

Hoseok knows where Jimin comes from. Jimin used to be a good friend of yours. He met you because of Hoseok and therefore you were always out of reach for him. But maybe if Hoseok never was a part of that equation Jimin should’ve taken your friendship into other levels. Yet life had different plans. And Jimin settled into being that good friend who would travel impossible distances to make sure his friends are okay. 

That’s exactly what Jimin is trying to do. You grew apart after your nasty breakup with Hoseok. Hoseok knows that. Mainly because Jimin is Hoseok’s friend and Jimin was ashamed to face you. Then before you could actually become friends again you’ve disappeared. 

Then there must be the guilt. Guilt of finally knowing Hoseok and Daebi’s story. They decided to come clean to at least Jimin and Nina after you disappeared. They wanted a way to ease their consciousness, even when they knew it wasn’t going to go well. Just as expected, Jimin was ready to murder them both. Disappointed. So was Nina. Jimin even stopped talking to Hoseok, until he sent the text on the group chat today. 

The very reason why Jimin barged in.

“I don’t know… maybe trying to convince your detective friend not to give up so easily. It’s just fucking four months.” Jimin grits. 

Technically, it’s turning five in a week. And Hoseok can’t do such a thing. He is friends with a detective who was happy to take over your case. Friends. That’s the word. He is not a boss. 

“Jimin-ah…” Hoseok sighs, not knowing exactly how to explain to his friend that this is out of his control. 

Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. “What? You can’t? Of course, you can’t.” He takes a threatening step toward Hoseok. “Well, you know what Hoseok? It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t. I fucking bet you two,” he gestures between Hoseok and Daebi. “Are actually fucking happy that she went missing.” Jimin spits out making Hoseok’s eyes widen. 

What now?

And making it worse Jimin adds more to his nonsense with a low voice. “Maybe, you’re the reason why she—”

Jimin doesn’t get to finish the sentence when Hoseok practically jumps at him, grabbing from his shirt with both hands. 

“What the fuck did you say?” Hoseok screeches. Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the sudden impact. 

“Oh god, will you guys stop… we’re friends.” Before Jimin can answer Hoseok, Daebi meddles, trying to part the two friends who are about to strangle each other. 

“Friends?” Jimin shakes Hoseok’s hands off him, scoffing. “I don’t see any friends here. In fact, I’m not your friend Daebi.” With that he throws a final glare at Hoseok. Turns around. “Enjoy. Get engaged. Hell, get married so we can throw a party.” Says before walking away and disappears through the front door. 

A heavy silence falls over. 

“I’m so disappointed in you guys.” After a minute, Nina, who’s been so quiet and pale, mumbles weakly. 

Then she too walks slowly over to the front door. 

……………………………………..

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(I'm so sorry if I have missed on tagging anyone 😭. This is mess!)

[ariestrxsh]

dom!reader x sub!chris x dom!friend

➶ ࣪ ִֶָ𖹭. content warning: threesome (ffm), semi-public, praise, degradation, light humiliaton, handjob, oral (m & f!receiving), unprotected sex, double cowgirl, facial

➶ ࣪ ִֶָ𖹭. summary: you and a friend seduce the cute, quiet boy who always sits at the back of the class and keeps to himself while the three of you are at a party on campus

dividers (top) by @/chachachannah (bottom) by @/sisterlucifergraphics

No I In Threesome

Loud rap music blared throughout the house as you and your best friend, Desiree, navigated your way through a sea of drunk college kids, trying not to trip over the pairs of feet as you made your way to the other side of the room.

You were laughing and carrying on about how excited you were for midterms to be over with and which boy you hoped would hit on you tonight when you noticed Desiree become a bit distracted.

"Awh. Look. That's the sweet boy who's in our communications class. He's all by himself," Desiree said, gently squeezing your arm before gesturing over at Chris who was sitting all alone on the couch, hoodie pulled on over his head with a red solo cup in one hand and his phone in the other.

"I'd love it if he hit on me," you chuckled, admiring his attractive features.

"Oh, come on. He's not the type to hit on someone. He's the type to get hit on," Desiree giggled, clocking his submissive behavior.

He was a shy, quiet boy who had a sweet demeanor, usually sitting at the back of the classroom and mostly keeping to himself. You hadn't spoken to him too many times, but the few interactions you'd had with him, you'd found his timid nature incredibly endearing.

He'd been so nervous, stumbling over his words and blushing anytime he made direct eye contact with you. You'd had your eye on him for a while because of this, secretly craving him.

You figured this might be an opportunity to bring one of your biggest fantasies to life. You leaned over and whispered a naughty idea into your best friend's ear, one the two of you had joked about before, but this time, you were serious.

At first, she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as blood rushed to her cheeks at your suggestion, but the longer she thought about it, the more she found herself seriously considering it. She slowly nodded, the embarrassed smile fading from her expression.

"Now's our chance to go ask him. Let's go," you replied, taking Desiree's hand as the two of you strutted over to the blue-eyed boy who was peering down, scrolling through Instagram and not paying his surroundings any mind. You came up on his left side and Desiree on his right.

"Hey, pretty boy," you spoke aloud, pulling his phone out of his hand while Desiree took his drink from him, both of you collapsing down on the couch beside him. The two of you crowded him so closely, you were nearly perched on his lap. He glanced between the two of you, shifting nervously around on the leather.

"Mind if we have a little chat?" Desiree asked, taking a sip of his drink before leaning forward and placing the red solo cup on the coffee table.

"Yeah, we had this really silly idea, and we wanted to run it by you," you replied, tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket. He gestured toward himself, raising his eyebrows and looking around as if the two of you were addressing someone else. You nodded, biting down on your lip and placing your hand on his thigh.

"An idea? S-sure. W-what is it?" He wondered aloud, peering down at your hand placement as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. All he could think about was how dangerously close you were to his...

Before he could finish his thought, Desiree stooped forward and whispered something into his ear. As he listened to her bold language and sexual vulgarity, you watched him widen his gaze, and his jaw dropped as a look of desire flashed across his face.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You w-want to what? With m-me?" Chris asked, raising his eyebrows at the two of you. He'd never had a woman come onto him so strongly, never mind two.

"Of course, you, silly boy. Come on. It'll be so fun," you purred into his ear, pulling off his hood and running your fingers through his brown locks.

"Yeah, what do you say, pretty boy? Think you can handle us both?" Desiree cooed, leaning in and resting her palm on his chest.

Chris eagerly nodded with a flushed expression, knowing damn well he probably couldn't, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

He looked at the two of you speechless, still in disbelief about what the two of you were suggesting. A threesome? With him? His cock stirred in his jeans at the way the two of you were devouring him whole with your eyes and putting your hands all over him.

"Ever taken two girls on at the same time?" You wondered, licking your lips as your gaze dropped to his lips. He timidly shook his head no.

"That's okay, baby. No need to be nervous. We'll pop your threesome cherry," Desiree told him, gripping his jaw and turning his head to face her. He slowly nodded, his heart pounding in his ears and his erection twitching in his pants.

"Sweet boy. You're already getting excited, aren't you?" You hissed, reaching for his bulge. He glanced over at you and let out a relieved sigh as you soothed his aching cock by gently palming him through the demin fabric. He peered down at where you were touching him, his jaw falling open as pleasure washed over his features.

"Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll show you how to take good care of us," you assured him, cradling his face and tracing his jawline with the tips of your fingers.

You slowly leaned in, closing the distance between your lips and his. Your tongue slipped into his mouth as he hummed into yours, a response to the way you caressed his eager cock that was straining against his pants. You pulled away, chuckling at how easily he had gotten worked up.

"But first, baby. We're gonna take really good care of you," Desiree told him, grabbing his jaw again and facing him towards her. He peered up at her with his desperate blue eyes and slowly nodded as she leaned in to kiss him, their lips locking onto one another's.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he moaned when he felt the ball of her piercing. His heart started to race, and his palms started to sweat. He wanted to reach out and touch you both, but his nervous energy had his arms pinned at his sides, too shy to do anything with his hands.

Desiree pulled away from the kiss, giggling and commenting on how soft his lips were as she ran the pads of her fingers over them. His breath hitched.

"I think we should take him somewhere upstairs, don't you?" You asked, glancing between Chris and Desiree as you combed through his messy brown hair with your manicured fingernails.

"We definitely should. We don't want anyone to see what we're about to do to him," Desiree replied, biting down on her lip as she bore into Chris with her seductive stare. His breathing became more labored, his imagination running wild as her words danced around in his mind.

"Let's go," you said, leaning in before you jumped up and started to head to the second floor. You grabbed Chris' wrist and dragged him up the stairs. Desiree followed closely behind the two of you.

You started trying the doors, hoping that at least one room was available. The first couple you tried were locked presumably due to people who already had the same idea as the three of you.

The third doorknob that you turned opened easily, and you stepped into the room without any hesitancy, guiding Chris and Desiree in as well. Desiree closed the door behind her, the latch sounding as she locked it to keep someone from walking in on the three of you.

You didn't know whose bedroom you were in. It didn't matter. You just needed privacy and a bed.

You and Desiree kicked off your heels, discarding them into a pile on the floor. Chris followed suit, kicking off his converse. You sauntered over towards the sweet, shy boy, gently pushing him onto the edge of the queen-sized mattress. You and Desiree sat on either side of him again.

"W-what are you guys gonna do?" Chris asked, his eyes full of excitement and wonder as Desiree fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie. She slowly unzipped it, revealing the black t-shirt he had on underneath. She pushed his open hoodie down off of his arms and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

"Come on, pretty boy. Don't play dumb," you softly answered, your lips curling into a devious smile as you reached for his belt, popping open the buckle. His heart raced, pumping more blood to the place he needed it most as he watched you undo his zipper and the button on his jeans.

You weren't wasting any time. You hooked your fingers into his waistband, pulling his pants and his boxers down slightly to reveal his length. "It's so pretty, baby," you complimented him, staring down at his cock as it sprung out of the restrictive fabric, "and so big."

He sharply inhaled as his precum covered tip was exposed to the cool air. "Wow! Look at that," Desiree said, peering down at it wide-eyed. She reached down, wrapping her fingers around his thick, veiny shaft, and started to stroke it gently.

You tilted his chin towards you again, looking into his pretty blue eyes and admiring his flushed cheeks and his slightly parted lips. "We're gonna have so much fun with you," you cooed before you slowly leaned in again. His eyes fluttered closed, meeting you halfway as he predicted your next move.

You engulfed his soft, warm lips with your own, feeling his breath quicken as Desiree sped up the pace of her strokes. You gently bit down on his sensitive flesh, causing him to whimper into your mouth, the soft vibration tickling your lip.

You moved to his jaw, leaving a trail of kisses as you made your way to his neck. Desiree did the same, latching onto the other side of his neck as she gently suckled on a sweet spot just below his ear. More soft moans unfurled from his pouty lips as the two of you teased him.

You peered down at his dick that was twitching in Desiree's grasp, and you delicately placed your own hand on it. A guttural noise came from the blue-eyed boy as you swiped your thumb over his swollen tip, causing the clear fluid that had gathered at his slit to leak down his length. You listened to all the pretty sounds and took in the sight of all the pretty faces he made, feeling a wetness pooling between your thighs.

"Wanna feel our mouths somewhere else?" Desiree whispered into his ear, her lips brushing gently against his earlobe and sending goosebumps across his skin. All he could think about was her tongue ring.

"Please," he desperately whined, savoring the feeling of being played with by you both at the same time. You slowly slid off the bed, nestling between Chris' legs, and Desiree followed.

The two of you looked up at him with your lustful eyes, both leaning in to lick a stripe from the base of his cock to his swollen tip. He shuddered at the sensation of both of your tongues gliding across his sensitive skin, tightly gripping the blanket beneath him as a moan spilled from his lips.

You gently flicked your tongue over the head, tasting the salty flavor of his arousal as he lifted his hips off the bed, subconsciously trying to coax it into your mouth. You and Desiree giggled at his desperation, which turned him on even more.

The soft sounds of the two of you planting kisses along his shaft echoed throughout the room along with Chris' labored breath and the moans he choked out as you each neared his most sensitive spot.

You circled his tip with your tongue a few more times before you finally took it into your mouth, the whole time Chris staring at you in anticipation. You hummed around the head, feeling him twitch against your lips. Desiree continued trailing kisses along his length, her mouth only a few inches from yours.

The two of you alternated, taking turns putting him into your mouth until he was squirming beneath you, whimpers slipping from his lips. You both started swirling your tongues over his slit in unison, his cock writhing in your grasp. He could feel the smooth metal of Desiree's tongue piercing stimulating his tip and creating a wonderful sensation he'd never felt before.

You each giggled and slurped up the clear fluid that was leaking from him, making his whole body tense beneath you. He tried so hard to fend off his orgasm, but he was teetering on the edge, just a few subtle movements from coming completely unraveled beneath the two of you.

You could see the pleasure etched into his facial expression. "Awh, look. He's so close," you said, pulling your mouth away for a moment.

"Already?" Desiree scoffed, following your lead and pulling her mouth off of him. "I thought he said he could handle this."

"Are you kidding? You really believed him when he said that?" You teased him, giving him a little smile as you gazed into his desperate blue eyes. The way the two of you subtly humiliated and degraded him made his cock pulse.

Suddenly, your gaze wandered from Chris to your friend. "Kiss me," you softly whispered as the two of you withdrew your attention from Chris and started making eyes at each other. He watched in awe as you reached up to cradle your friend's face, your gaze dancing over her features before the two of you embraced, your bodies pressing against each other as your lips met hers.

You loved kissing girls. Desiree's skin was smooth, and her lips were so tender and tasted faintly of her vanilla chapstick. You felt her warm breath mixing with yours. Your senses were filled with her sweet perfume and her favorite moisturizer she wore every day. You couldn't get enough of her.

She quietly moaned into your mouth as your hands wandered her body, tracing every curve. Her hands did the same, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. Her touch was much softer than a man's. She was much more passionate and somehow also more gentle.

Chris grew a bit jealous. He'd just gone from having the attention of two women to none in a matter of seconds, but he couldn't take his eyes off either of you.

The kiss the two of you shared was so erotic that he felt like he was intruding on two lovers sharing a vulnerable moment, almost like he was witnessing something he shouldn't be. You carded your fingers through Desiree's long, soft hair, your lips melding into hers as you fell deeper and deeper into her kiss.

The two of you had made out before two or three times in high school when the two of you were practicing for kissing boys and at a sleepover when you'd been dared by another mutual friend to kiss eachother, but nothing this heated until now.

You started reaching up her shirt, your hands brushing against the warm, smooth skin of her stomach until you reached her chest. You gently squeezed her breast as she hummed in delight, the vibration tickling your lip.

You pulled away for a short moment, just long enough to pull Desiree's shirt off over her head, leaving her in nothing but her jeans and her lace bra. You gently tugged on the lacey fabric, revealing her perfect breast. You leaned in and took her nipple into your mouth, gently sucking on it.

She threw back her head, gently tangling her fingers in your hair as she savored the feeling of your tongue flicking against her sensitive bud. The sounds she made were heavenly, and you smiled against her chest as you listened to how good you were making her feel.

Chris couldn't pull his eyes off of the two of you. He loved how tenderly you each interacted with one another, taking notes on what he'd do differently the next time he kissed a woman.

You slowly retreated, looking up at her before you attached your lips to hers again. You felt her hand resting on the inside of your thigh, her fingertips unhurriedly gliding up your skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment as she brushed her thumb against the damp patch on your underwear.

She pulled away from the kiss for a moment, but kept her hand between your legs, softly drawing circles on your clit through the fabric. "Oh, my god. You're so wet," she gasped with a bit of surprise in her voice.

Chris started slowly stroking his length as the two of you leaned in again, your lips being pulled together by some kind of magnetic force while your curious hands continued roaming each other's bodies.

Your fingers wandered to the front of Desiree's jeans, slowly undoing the button and pulling down the waistband to reveal her white panties she had on underneath. You gently squeezed her soft, round ass, smirking against her lips.

After you tugged them the rest of the way down her legs, the pads of your fingers slipped down the front of the cotton fabric, and you gently brushed against her wet folds, causing her to moan again. You had always wanted to touch her like this, to elicit these sounds from her, and you couldn't believe it was finally happening.

Chris' mind was swimming with thoughts, wondering if the two of you had slept together before this due to the obvious sexual chemistry that lingered between the two of you and wondering what he did to deserve becoming a voyeur to such a seemingly intimate moment.

When the two of you pulled away, you were each breathless and staring into each other's eyes. You'd almost forgotten Chris was right there until you saw him getting carried away with himself out of your peripherals and heard his soft whimpers as he started pumping faster.

"Ah, ah, ah. Better not cum yet, naughty boy. We're just getting started," Desiree smirked over at him, gently swatting his wrist. Chris nodded. He slowed his strokes to a stop, looking at the two of you like he'd been scolded.

Desiree reached for the hem of your top, and as your raised your arms, she pulled it off over your head, her eyes dropping to your breasts that were spilling out over your bra. Her gaze wandered over to Chris whose eyes were locked onto your tits. "Sit on the bed next to him," your friend told you with a devious smile on her face.

Chris scooted over a few inches, making room for you on the edge of the bed to his left. Chris' stare danced over your body as you stood up and plopped down beside the blue-eyed boy. He admired the pretty black bow connecting the two halves of your bra, licking his lips as he imagined taking it off of you.

"You can touch me," you offered him permission, sensing that he may have been too shy to ask. He blushed and smiled, reaching over with a trembling hand and delicately cupped your boob. He brushed his thumb along the fabric, feeling your nipple harden beneath his touch.

He hooked his finger into the strap of your bra and slowly tugged it down your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours once more to make sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries. You nodded in approval. He smiled when the fabric fell away, revealing your bare breast to him. He lowered his head, bringing his lips to your nipple and flickering his tongue over it, eliciting a moan a from you.

"Good boy," you cooed, reaching up and gently scratching his head as you ran your red nails through his hair. He whimpered against your chest at your praises, eager to do anything to receive more.

Desiree was on her knees in front of you, reaching under you skirt again and catching her fingertips on the waistband of your panties. She slowly slipped them down your thighs, discarding them behind her as she parted your legs and spread you open. Her warm breath hitting your heat caused you to gasp and shudder.

Chris peered down at her, eager to watch her start eating you. He'd only ever seen a girl eat another girl out in porn, never in real life.

Desiree's eyes were fixed on yours as she leaned in and attached her lips to your bundle of nerves. You jumped at the feeling of her mouth on you, and Chris watched in awe at the way her tongue started fluttering around on your most sensitive spots, her shiny, smooth piercing massaging your clit.

Your fingers found themselves threaded in her hair again as you pushed her head down. She gently shook her head, nuzzling your cunt. You rolled your hips forward, grinding against her face and leaving her chin soaked in your juices. You peered into her eyes, hypnotized by the way she looked at you, already nearing the edge.

"You wanna cum all over my tongue, don't you?" She whispered, her warm breath hitting your cunt. You fervently nodded, your eyes begging her to put her mouth back on you. "Not yet, not until Chris has some fun with you, hmm?" She cooed, giving you one last slow, soft, sensual kiss between your legs before she pulled away and glanced over at the boy beside you. "Wanna taste her?" She asked him in a sweet voice.

His eyes lit up. He turned the inner corners of his eyebrows up with his lips slightly parted as he slowly nodded. He slid off the bed, kneeling beside your friend. Desiree helped him out of his shirt, revealing his silver chain necklace.

You glanced down in anticipation as his shirtless form settled between your legs. You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up with your elbows. Desiree placed a hand on each of your thighs and pushed them as far apart as she could.

"Doesn't she have such a pretty pussy?" She said to him, but her eyes were on you, watching your reactions and watching the way your cunt quivered at her words.

"It is. It's very pretty," Chris replied, wetting his lips as he drew nearer, his cold chain tickling your soft skin. He peered down, soaking in the sight of your glistening pussy just inches from his face.

His tongue darted out, brushing against your clit and making you softly moan. He gave a few sweet kitten licks, closing his eyes, too nervous to directly look at you as he started working his lips on your sensitive bud.

"C'mon, pretty boy. Don't be shy. I bet she wants to see those pretty blue eyes of yours while you eat her, hmm?" Desiree encouraged him, softly running her fingers through his hair.

He reluctantly opened his eyes, gazing up at you and the pleasured expression on your face, which encouraged him to keep going. His licks because a little messier, drooling all over your cunt as he ate you out. He wrapped his lips around your sensitive clit, gently suckling on it and moaning against you.

You couldn't get enough of his mouth and his fucked out expression as he got drunk off of you, slurping up all your wetness.

"Chris..." you moaned, one hand reaching up to squeeze your breast and the other tangled in Chris' brown locks. Your body began to tighten as he sped up the flicker of his tongue that hit all the right spots with the perfect pressure. "Oh, Chris.. Where did you learn to do that?" You whimpered, your legs beginning to shake.

You'd always been under the impression that he'd need to be taught or need to be shown how to do it right, but the look in his eye and the feathery touch of his tongue suddenly had you believing otherwise. Perhaps he was more experienced than he let on. He smirked up at you, knowing you'd fall apart any minute.

Desiree whispered into his ear while he licked you, calling him a good boy and telling him what a good job he was doing. His soft tongue continued exploring your wet folds, every few seconds, closing his lips down around your sensitive button and gently suckling on it, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

You clamped your thighs down on his head, suffocating him with your pussy as your body began to spasm. He could feel your wetness flooding his tastebuds as you finished, both his hands traveling to your waist and pulling you down further onto his face.

You let out a stream of unintelligible whimpers and moans as you continued grinding against his tongue, enjoying every last bit of contact his mouth made with you. You loved every second, even the aftershocks as you came down from your intense orgasm, Chris still lazily dragging his tongue along your folds and licking you clean.

You sat up as Chris retreated from between your legs, wiping a drop of sweat that had formed on his brow. He breathlessly smiled up at you with a flushed expression and pink-tinted cheeks, his chin covered in a sheen of your arousal.

"You did so good, Chris," you praised him, still trying to catch your breath. "Come lay down on the bed for us, hmm?" You softly spoke, patting the mattress like you were beckoning a puppy. He nodded, biting down on his lip. "We're gonna use your mouth and your cock at the same time, okay?"

He nodded even more enthusiastically this time. He laid back on the bed in nothing but his underwear and his silver chain, his chest rising and falling from excitement. You and Desiree exchanged a devious look, each of you closing in on him.

You slipped your hand into his waistband, pulling out his length, throwing your leg over his lap and straddling him while Desiree straddled his face, facing you while she pulled her panties to the side. You lined him up with your entrance, sinking down on him at the same time that his mouth made contact with your friend's warm, wet cunt.

Chris moaned as you slid down on his length, feeling every ridge and every vein of his pulsing cock as you stretched around it. You lowered yourself all the way until you were completely full of him.

You couldn't help the noises that slipped past your lips as you started to ride, trying to find a rhythm. You started to roll your hips forward, massaging Chris' cock with your walls and causing him to whimper against Desiree's cunt once more.

"Oh my god," Desiree said in a breathy voice as Chris started expertly eating her. She started grinding against Chris' tongue while the two of you stared into each other's eyes, exchanging looks of sheer pleasure.

"He's so good with his mouth, isn't he?" You cooed, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She slowly nodded, her jaw dropping as Chris started to suck on her clit. You rode Chris a bit faster, leaning in and pulling Desiree into another long, slow kiss.

Chris was overwhelmed by having two women make out on top of him while he pleasured you both, desperately trying not to finish too soon.

The room was filled with rhythmic breathing, loud moaning, and the languid sounds of Chris' cock and tongue working in and out of both of you. You squeezed around him, already getting close again, whimpering against your friend's lips.

"I'm gonna cum," Desiree whispered, pulling away from the kiss and pressing her forehead against yours. You gazed into her eyes, caressing her pretty face. "Yeah? You're gonna cum? All over his soft tongue?" You asked her.

She nodded, her moans growing more desperate as Chris started licking her more fervently. "Yes. Good girl. Finish for me," you smiled, talking her through it.

She started thrashing her hips, her orgasm crashing over her and leaving her a trembling mess. Chris graciously cleaned her with his tongue, savoring her flavor as she overwhelmed his tastebuds with her sweetness.

Your climax hit you shortly after, Chris' tip hitting all your hard to reach places as you bounced on him. He could feel you start to rhythmically clench around him, your cum starting to leak down the sides of his cock as his name cascaded from your lips.

You slowed down, still riding the high of your earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt still fluttering around his cock.

Chris was desperately squirming beneath the two of you. He couldn't take anymore, on the verge of his own release. "Where do you wanna cum, baby?" You asked the sweet boy, staring down at his fucked out expression after Desiree climbed off of him.

"On your pretty faces. Please," he whimpered in response.

You and Desiree crawled off the bed and knelt down on the floor, and Chris climbed to his feet, standing over the two of you. You each placed a hand on his length, pumping his cock that was ready to bust at any moment now.

He glanced back and forth between you two, taking in the sight of both of your smeared makeup and messed up hair, wondering how he'd gotten lucky enough to have two beautiful women on their knees, waiting for him to finish with mouths open wide and tongues sticking out.

He placed a hand on each of your cheeks, stroking your faces as he gazed at both of your eager expressions. His lips parted slightly after he licked them, and he pinned his eyebrows together as his eyelids grew heavy.

You knew he was coming undone seconds before pearly white ropes of cum shot all over each of your faces, squirting into both of your mouths and coating your features in his warm, sticky substance. Whimpers and profanities poured uncontrollably from him as he released all his pent up sexual frustration.

He stared down at the two of you who were giggling and laughing. A smile curled on his perfect lips that were bright pink with arousal as you both milked him dry. "Holy fuck. That was amazing," he managed to spit out, but he knew amazing didn't really do it justice.

"Naughty boy," Desiree smirked up at him, her hand still wrapped around his thickness.

"You liked that a little too much," you teased him as he tried to gather his thoughts and recover, completely dazed. He couldn't help but to wonder if maybe you guys had liked that a little too much.

After you and Desiree helped clean each other up in the bathroom, and after you'd both kissed Chris goodnight, telling him how much fun you had and suggesting the three of you should do it again sometime, you two started your walk back home from the party.

"That wasn't just some ploy to get me to make out with you and eat your pussy, was it?" Desiree nudged you in the arm, smirking over in your direction as the two of you made your way down the sidewalk, both sets of your heels clicking against the pavement.

"What!?" You asked, trying to sound shocked. "I can't even believe you'd suggest that!" You exclaimed. The two of you exchanged a look and broke out into laughter.

Desiree stopped walking for a moment, gripped your face, and turned your head towards hers. The way her hands felt on you gave you goosebumps and sent a shiver down your spine.

She leaned in and whispered into your ear, "Okay, but next time you're eating my pussy."

[cheftsunoda]

reckless — ln4, op81

smau/real life

lando norris x !ex singer reader

oscar piastri x !singer reader

y/n and lando had been inseparable since they were nineteen, building a life together through the highs and lows. but lately, something felt off. as lando grew distant, yn’s suspicions quietly grew—until the truth unraveled…he’d been cheating with magui. instead of confronting him, yn poured her heartbreak into a song—one that ended their relationship for the world to hear. in the aftermath, she found comfort where she least expected it… in the arms of lando’s own teammate.

fc : stassie karanikolaou and various pinterest gals

special request from my love @cmgmikealson 🧡

i am legit posting heal your heart right as we speak so part 4 is posted if you’re looking for it

—

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, mclaren & 1,294,389 others.

yourusername : life’s been pretty good to me lately<3

—

username00 : so pretty love

username7 : no lando like?

username15 : he usually is first comment 🤨

username5 : im so confused where is her man

username8 : guys he is in the dump relax

alexandrasaintmleux : god you are so beautiful

liked by yourusername

yourusername : come smooch on me pretty

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc : what did I walk into?

alexandrasaintmleux: look away cha

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 : Miss you yn!

liked by yourusername

yourusername : miss you carlitos! golf with papà soon?

liked by carlossainz55 and carlossainzoficial

carlossainzoficial : Sí!

liked by yourusername and carlossainz55

kikagomes : my stunning girl

liked by yourusername

yourusername : love you to the moon and back

username10 : where tf is lando?

—

‘This chapter's about

How you said there was nobody else

Then you got up and went to her house

You guys always left me out’

—

He grabs his keys from the counter, barely glancing in my direction.

“I’ll be back later,” Lando says, voice flat.

“Where are you going?” I ask, keeping my tone light—casual, like I don’t already feel the distance growing between us.

He shrugs. “Just out.”

No name. No place. No explanation.

I nod, pretending not to care. “Okay. Be safe.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and silence floods the room. I sit there, staring at the space he just walked out of. My chest feels heavier than it should. I could’ve asked again, pressed for an answer—but what would that change? I already know the truth, even if I’m too scared to say it out loud. Something’s wrong. I feel it in the way he doesn’t look at me the same. In how he only kisses me when he thinks I’m not paying attention to the way his mind is somewhere else. Maybe I don’t argue because deep down… I’m tired of fighting for someone who’s already gone.

—

f1gossipgirls

457,296 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Rumors have been swirling for weeks about F1 driver Lando Norris and model/influencer Magui Corceiro, and it looks like things just heated up. The two were seen leaving Magui’s apartment early Tuesday morning, looking very cozy—and definitely not like just friends. Sources say Y/N, Lando’s longtime girlfriend, was not around at the time. The pair kept it low-key, both wearing sunglasses and casual fits, but witnesses couldn’t help but notice the chemistry (and the fact that lando was spotted there overnight).

—

username00 : yn deserved so much better. she gave that man years of loyalty and he gave her betrayal in return. i hope she writes a whole album about this.

username10 : lando leaving his apartment with Magui like we wouldn’t notice?? men have no shame.

username22 : you mean to tell me lando threw away 5 years with yn (the most stunning person on the planet) for felix’ sloppy seconds?

username30 : yn’s silence speaks louder than words.

usernameeee : lando FUMBLED.

—

‘When you told me that I was the only girl

You'd ever want in your life’

The post sits on my phone screen, still open. Lando and Magui, walking out of our apartment like it was theirs. Like I didn’t exist. When I hear the front door open, I don’t move. Just stare at the screen until it turns black. I lock it and set it face down.

Lando walks in, running a hand through his hair like he’s exhausted. “Hey, I’m back,” he says softly.

I look up, trying to sound casual. “Were you with Magui?”

He pauses in the middle of the room. Not long, but long enough.

Then he walks over slowly, kneels in front of me, and rests his hands gently on my knees. “Yeah,” he says, voice calm. “She needed someone to talk to. She was going through something, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“There are pictures,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he murmurs. “They look worse than it was. I swear, Y/N. Nothing’s going on with her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

His eyes search mine like he’s begging me to believe him. He squeezes my hands. “You’re the only one I want. You always have been.”

I nod slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Okay.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

But I still don’t believe him.

Because love shouldn’t come with this much doubt.

And the part of me that used to feel safe with him… doesn’t anymore.

—

‘Each day goes by and each night, I cry

Somebody saw you with her last night

You gave me your word, "Don't worry 'bout her’

The room is quiet except for the occasional sniffle I try to stifle into my pillow. The sheets are pulled up to my chin, but they don’t feel warm—just heavy. Like everything else. My phone is beside me, screen dimmed, waiting for a notification that won’t come. No apology. No explanation. Just silence. I open my Notes app instead, the cursor blinking back at me like it knows what’s coming. I start typing, barely able to see through the blur in my eyes. The words hurt. But they feel true. They feel like mine. I let out a shaky breath, backlit by the soft glow of the screen, when a buzz cuts through the stillness.

Max Fewtrell :

Hey. I know Lando is my best friend but what he is doing to you is so wrong, yn. You’ve been loyal to him for so long. I saw him out with magui again. I wanted you to know. I’m so sorry.

My heart drops. Max never texts me like this. Not unless it’s something important. Not unless he feels like I deserve to know. I stare at the message, my fingers trembling. He lied. Looked me in the eye and told me she just “stopped by.”

I feel something crack quietly inside me—not loud or explosive, just the kind of break you can’t come back from.

—

‘How could you be so reckless with my heart?’

I lie in bed for a while, Max’s message burning a hole in my chest. I keep hoping—praying—there’s a reasonable explanation. That I’m overthinking. That he’s telling the truth. But something inside me shifts. That quiet voice that’s been whispering doubts for weeks gets louder. I can’t ignore it anymore. So I get up. I move through the apartment on autopilot, careful not to make a sound, like I’m trespassing in a home that used to feel like mine. Lando’s bag is by the door, half-zipped, carelessly tossed like everything else in this relationship lately. I kneel beside it, heart pounding. I don’t want to be this person. I never wanted to look. But he made me. Inside, I find his phone charger, his sunglasses… and then a second phone. One I’ve never seen before. It’s not locked. My hands are cold as I scroll through the texts. Her name is right there—Magui—bold and glowing like a warning.

“Miss you already.”

“Last night was everything.”

“Don’t forget your hoodie. I kept it.”

Photo attachments. Her in our kitchen. Her in his hoodie. The same one he wore when he left that day. The same one I folded and left out for him the night before. My breath catches. I can’t cry. Not right now. My body won’t let me. I set the phone down on the counter and stare at it, like it’s some kind of weapon. Because it is. Proof of betrayal. Of everything he swore wasn’t happening.

And suddenly, I’m not heartbroken.

I’m done.

—

‘You check in and out

Of my heart like a hotel

And she must be perfect, oh well

I hope you both go to hell’

I don’t rush.

There’s a strange calm that settles over me as I fold my clothes, one by one, placing them carefully into the suitcase I bought on our first trip together. I don’t slam drawers or throw things. I just… let go.

Piece by piece.

Everything that once felt like home now feels like evidence. The framed photo of us at Silverstone. The hoodie he gave me when I first stayed over. The mug with my initial that he always filled before his morning races.

I don’t take them.

He can have the memories.

I zip the suitcase slowly and glance around the apartment one last time. It looks the same. But everything’s changed.

On the counter, I leave the second phone. Unlocked. Open to the last message from Magui.

And next to it, I place a folded piece of paper.

‘i trusted you. i loved you. she must be perfect, oh well. i hope you both go to hell.’

—

‘Hey, this is a story I hate

But I told it to cope with the pain

I'm so sorry if you can relate’

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri & 4,379,275 others.

yourusername : i got cheated on so alex got me this shirt, we went to ibiza to party and i released my new single reckless out now 🗣️

—

username00 : alex is the best ever

username10 : this is so iconic. the shirt. the cig in ibiza. im in tears.

alexandrasaintmleux : i love love love you- the trip was so fun

liked by yn_ln

charles_leclerc : Glad you girls had fun! Hope you’re feeling better, yn:)

liked by yn_ln and alexandrasaintmleux

yn_ln : thanks for letting us borrow the jet Charlie;)

liked by charles_leclerc

kikagomes : so iconic FUCK HIM

liked yn_ln

oscarpiastri : Glad you’re healing, YN. He did you wrong.

liked by yn_ln

kikagomes : or fuck his teammate??

liked by yn_ln & oscarpiastri

username17 : OH MY GOD

carlossainz55 : glad to be your tour guide :)

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : 10/10 would recommend

username000 : oh so she won everyone in the breakup

—

36 missed calls from Lando

115 messages from Lando

—

The Monaco streets are quiet this early—just the soft hum of waves below and the rhythmic slap of my sneakers against the pavement. The city’s waking up, but I’ve been up for hours. Running clears my head in ways sleep can’t lately. I round the corner near Port Hercule, pulling my hoodie tighter around me as the breeze cuts through. Just as I hit the incline by the marina, a familiar figure jogs past in the opposite direction—then slows down and doubles back.

“Yn?”

I pause, pulling out one earbud. “Oscar?”

He jogs up, slightly out of breath, curls damp with sweat, that easy smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to steady both my breathing and the sudden flutter in my chest. “Just got in a few days ago.”

He nods, studying me for a beat. “You alright?”

I give a tired smile. “Getting there.”

He doesn’t push. Just offers a quiet, steady presence, the kind I didn’t know I needed until now.

“I was gonna grab a coffee and walk the market after this,” he says, shifting his weight slightly. “You feel like company?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a pity invite?”

He grins. “Only if you say no. Then it’ll definitely be pity.”

I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in days. The air feels lighter somehow.

“Alright,” I say. “But I’m picking the playlist next time we run into each other.”

He falls in step beside me. “Deal.”

—

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, kikagomes, carlossainz55 & 2,278,245 others.

yourusername : never been happier <3

—

username00 : new man??! bets??

username10 : better not see any “you moved on quick” comments because he moved on while they were still together

username5 : what if it’s Oscar???

kikagomes : you’re so cute omggg ily

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux : my angel deserves to be happy 🦋

liked by yn_ln

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & 1,238,255 others.

oscarpiastri : Been pretty productive lately.

—

username00 : mans is soft launching and is so nonchalant

carlossainz55 : Hell of a season for you so far amigo!

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri : My good luck charm definitely helps

liked by carlossainz55

username10 : call me delulu but that’s def yn

hattiepiastri : who? what? when?

oscarpiastri : you could’ve just texted bro

hattiepiastri : you never answer your texts

nicolepiastri : or calls

—

The Monaco sun hits hard, even in the morning, but the buzz of the paddock is electric as always—cameras flashing, engines humming in the background, and whispers floating like static. This time, though, it’s not the usual chaos that turns heads.

It’s me.

Walking beside Oscar.

I’m wearing sunglasses, a soft black cap pulled low, and an oversized McLaren hoodie. Not just any hoodie—his hoodie. The number 81 stitched on the sleeve in that unmistakable papaya orange.

Oscar doesn’t say anything when the photographers start snapping. Just glances sideways at me with a small, knowing smile like he expected this.

I shrug. “It was the most comfortable one I had.”

“Sure it was,” he says, gently bumping my shoulder with his.

We pass a few crew members. They nod politely—but their eyes dip to my sleeve.

The whispers start instantly.

“That’s Piastri’s number, isn’t it?”

“Since when are they a thing?”

“I thought she was with—”

“Not anymore.”

Somewhere across the paddock, I catch a glimpse of Lando.

He’s mid-conversation but freezes for a split second when he sees us. His eyes drop to the hoodie, and I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens.

I don’t look away.

Oscar doesn’t either.

He simply says, “You ready?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He grips tightly onto my hand as we walk through.

—

The podium celebration is chaos—in the best way. Champagne rains down like glitter, the crowd is deafening, and Oscar’s smile is wider than she’s ever seen it. There’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there a few weeks ago. A quiet, humble pride. He climbs down from the stage, face flushed with adrenaline and joy, and immediately scans the crowd.

And then he sees me. Standing just behind the McLaren garage barrier, still wearing his hoodie, tears in my eyes and the biggest grin on my face.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He pushes through the crowd—crew members cheering, pats on the back, cameras chasing him—and walks straight to me.

“You did it,” i breathe, eyes shining.

“I told you I would,” he says softly, almost in disbelief.

And before either of us can talk ourselves out of it, he leans in and kisses me.

Not rushed. Not messy. Just sure.

The kind of kiss that says finally.

Around us, everything blurs. Reporters stop mid-sentence. Phones come up. Paparazzi lenses refocus. Someone gasps—someone else screams.

It’s official. Public. Real.

When we pull apart, Oscar rests his forehead against mine.

“I wanted to do that for a while.”

I laughed, still a little breathless. “Figured. You did win, after all.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “But I think you’re still my favorite part of today.”

—

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc & 10,279,255 others.

yourusername : finally got a man who can handle having a baddie

—

charles_leclerc : the cutout picture has me rolling

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : he told me to leave it out

oscarpiastri : i know how lucky i am to have pulled you;)

liked by yn_ln

oscarpiastri : my pretty girl

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux: my loves!

liked by yn_ln and oscarpiastri

carlossainz55 : oh this is the good luck charm, huh?😉

liked by yn_ln and oscarpiastri

—

☘️🌿🌎☁️🍃🌱🐢

[midnightsinjune]

I could literally write an essay on all the things that led to me ultimately walking away from this friendship but it would be impossible to list it all. It was a decision that was a long time coming but was difficult to end because there’s no right way to end things unfortunately when you just simply come to terms with the fact that you don’t want to continue a friendship anymore. The harsh realization that you would not be friends with this kind of person if you were able to make the choice fresh today. Ultimately it took time alone to reflect, growing and healing myself to realize that feeling drained and negative after you are around someone you consider a best friend for years isn’t normal. I have had many close friendships with women throughout my life and nothing came close to how this one made me feel. She tried to appear like a positive person but she held a lot of negativity inside and as someone who was close to her for a long time it was very visible. I was just young and naive at the time the friendship started (she literally told me she initially didn’t like me before I even knew her or we had properly ever interacted lmao, red flag from the beginning) so after that when SHE extended starting a friendship with me for some reason I chose to be friends with someone who held many very visible toxic behaviours that I usually steer far away from. Immaturity, passive aggressiveness (this was so acknowledged as a part of her personality it was something constantly joked about in our friend group) pettiness, being judgemental (although always claiming she wasn’t but tbh I don’t think she realized she wasn’t good at hiding it at all), subtle digs, being condescending, crazyyy internalized misogyny, secret competition etc. Literally remember her telling me she prefers being friends with guys to girls at our big age and me sitting explaining why that’s not okay. Her not having any other close best friends who are women in the 10 years I knew her. I hope she genuinely thinks about why that is. So many examples I can remember of her just randomly disliking so many girls we knew and when I would ask why she’d say “she could just tell the vibes were off”. Honestly had never met anyone like that before and thank god have never since. Anybody else who knew the feeling of being her friend would have walked away sooner. The best way to describe it was uncomfortable. Always calculating, holding back, made me so uneasy. I never had the relaxed feeling around her that I had with other friends. With my other friends I always feel like both our walls are down. But with her it felt one sided always and I remember telling her this too. So many moments I look back on and realized were not okay but I just let slide. I regret not calling it out and but I honestly didn’t understand it and tried to see the good overall. These last few years I started really coming to terms with all of this, it’s like I always felt unhappy but never verbalized it. There was some good in there, which made it confusing, but ultimately it was largely overshadowed by all of the above. She would always tell me she felt lighter after hanging out with me and that was most often not the case with me. In fact it was the opposite, I would feel heavy. Ultimately I realized a lot of her negativity and pettiness rubbed off on me. Hence why I am blogging about this which is very out of character for me. The damage is done after associating with this behaviour for so long I have absorbed a lot of it. Hence why I finally decided to distance myself and then everything hit the fan. But honestly what ended up happening was just the catalyst I needed to finally walk away. Everything happens for a reason and definitely lessons learned. Trust your gut.

—Virginia Woolf

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 3, Part 3

masterposts. no editing pls. be kind. am sick *cough cough*

“Daniel Horatio Fenton!”

“Horatio?” Danny repeated, a small smile on his face and phone head away from his face due to the shouting.

Dick leaned over and pressed the speaker button, which got him a bemused look, but Danny set the phone down on the coffee table.

“Well, I don’t actually know your middle name,” the voice on the phone admitted with a huff. “It was just the first thing that came to mind! I can’t full name you without a full name and I need to full name you because I just came to the hospital to visit you only to find out that you checked yourself out against doctor’s orders!!”

Danny scratched at the side of his face. The medical bracelet was bright on his wrist. “Mina—”

“Danny!”

“Look, Mina. I promise you that I’m safe. I’m actually in the in the safest building in San Fran, I’m pretty sure.” Danny glanced at Dick, and at Dick’s nod continued. “I’m actually at Titan’s Tower.”

The silence was heavy. Then, “Danny Horatio Fenton!”

“Still not my middle name.”

“Why the f are you at Titan’s Tower?!” Min shouted. Another pause, then, “Oh gods, the reading! The Tower! I knew that reading didn’t go right. Your ghost is a superhero? They messed with my reading?!?”

“The Flash, and I’m sure he thought he was helping, Mina,” Danny said.

“Helping?!” Mina screeched. “Maybe if he had let me do the reading properly we could have figured this out before you had a heart attack! Which was also his fault! And your seizures!”

“Mina, none of us could have know my heart would stop like that,” Danny said. “And Flash was very worried about me. I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“I’m sure that he’s blaming himself too,” Dick said.

“And who are you?”

“Nightwing, Miss Mina, and Flash is my best friend. He’d hate that he’s caused any sort of harm to Danny,” Dick said. “I’m sure that he’s blaming himself more than anyone else. But don't worry, the Titans are determined to help both Flash and Danny. In fact, Raven wants to talk to you about that tea and anything else that you might have gotten a sense of.”

“Yes, of course. Anything I can do to help out. Oh, and make sure Danny eats, he's bad at that sometimes,” Mina said.

Danny groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Mina.”

“And sleep! He's really bad at that one.”

“Mina.”

“Really bad. Okay, pass me to Raven so we can talk shop. Danny, behave or I'm coming for you!”

“Love you too Mina,” Danny grumbled.

Dick waited until Raven had taken the phone and turned it off speaker to talk magic to look over at Danny. “So, when was the last time you ate?”

Danny sighed. “I can't believe I'm being mother henned by Nightwing.”

“Oh. He's the worst mother hen,” Gar said. He hopped up from the couch and transformed into a chicken midair.

They watched him cluck around on the coffee table.

“So, last time you ate?”

“Breakfast at the hospital, what I could manage of it,” Danny said with another sigh.

Dick smacked his hand against his legs before he stood too. “Right! Lunch time then. I'm thinking chicken nuggets.”

Gar squawked loudly.

[sunrizef1]

Hearts, Intertwined

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: Soulmate AU my beloved

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

For as long as he could really vividly remember, Lewis had never really cared about soulmates.

When he was younger, he found them exciting. The idea of someone out there being made just for him, to exist with him and the idea that he was perfect for someone else made his mind run with possibilities.

The small marking of a heart at the nape of his neck became forgotten, hidden by the collars of his shirts. He stopped making the extra effort to glance at it in the mirror, stopped tracing it with his fingertips and dreaming of the future, stopped excitedly spinning around to show his new friends the mark.

He forgot about it, really.

It was small enough that he never really noticed it. Out of sight, out of mind.

Instead, he focused on racing. He didn’t have time to think about finding his soulmate when there were races to be won and spots to win.

Steadily, he rose through the ranks of Motorsport. With every win, he came closer to his dream of driving in the pinnacle of Motorsport, formula one.

He fell into a rhythm. A pendulum steadily swinging between winning races and what he could be doing to win more races.

Then, he got to drive for McLaren. His dream, the only one he’d thought about for the past decade and some change, had been realized. He was finally doing what he had spent his whole life working for. This was it.

Then, he started winning. And he kept winning. And winning. And winning. And winning some more.

He thought that this must be what life is all about. This feeling. Of standing on top of a podium, sweaty, drenched in champagne with a trophy clutched in his hands, the crowd below chanting his name. He had never felt better.

Of course, with the years came the tattoos.

He’s not sure what drove him to start getting them but, once he started, he couldn’t really stop. They started to slowly inch over the expanse of his skin, covering the flesh in ornate and meaningful designs, bearing his soul on display for the world to see.

With the ink came his acknowledgment of the mark on the base of his neck. It wasn’t much of an acknowledgment, really. His tattoo artist briefly mentioned it and Lewis replied something like, “Oh, just blend it in.”

And, with that, the mark became obsolete. No one ever mentioned it. It looked like just another small part of his tattoos. Hearts weren’t particularly interesting either. There’s not much to mention.

Of course, Lewis did get lonely. With Nico fading into a memory he would sit and reminisce about, Lewis was left as alone as he had ever been.

He had girlfriends, what F1 driver didn’t? But it never really felt right. Not really. It always felt like something was missing. A spark or a sign that this was who he was meant for. But he always knew they weren’t the one. How could they be? They were never his soulmate.

But he didn’t really care about fulfilling his deeply-rooted destined fate. He just wanted a body to hold and someone to fill the lonely nights. They did that job well enough.

And that’s how life stayed at Mercedes. For a while. Lewis would win, go home to someone with the mark of another on their skin and fall asleep with them clutched in his arms, dreams he doesn’t wish for filling his mind with visions of what he’s missing.

But then, Ferrari.

Ferrari was different. They were a family of some kind that Lewis had never really been familiar with. Of course, Mercedes was a family of a different sort but this… was different.

He had to learn how to live with them. How they like their coffees, which engineers had kids, Charles’s pre-race routines.

But Ferrari… Ferrari also has you.

Lewis had known you for the better part of a decade. You’re younger than him, he knows that. When you’d started at Mercedes the year Nico had won the championship, you were fresh-faced and straight out of college with a degree in mechanical engineering that had only taken you two years to complete. Nineteen years old and practically begging for an authority figure to guide you in this precarious sport that will eat you alive if you’re not careful.

Lewis had briefly pondered why Toto would hire someone with so little experience to a team in their prime but Toto had described you as a “strategic genius” so he let it slide.

So, that year, you started as a junior strategist, specifically, for Nico’s races.

You really were a strategic genius, Lewis will give you that. You and the rest of the garage had quickly propelled Nico through the rankings, giving him hopes for the championship he had been looking for.

So, before Lewis could even introduce himself, Nico had taken you under his wing, putting himself in the role of your guiding light.

When Nico won, Toto was ready to hire you as a full-time race engineer.

But then, Nico left.

You knew before anyone else on the team. Of course you did. He was your driver after all.

So, when Toto offered the engineer spot, you had to decline. Instead, choosing to leave with Nico.

Lewis was fuming, of course. Nico was stealing away their best strategist because of some petty fight they’d been in that year.

But, despite Lewis’s objections, you left.

You were a bit quiet for the break. No one really heard from you. Lewis is sure Nico probably did.

But then, you settled on Ferrari who had given you a full race-engineer position. A team where Nico could safely visit to continue to mentor you and not have to worry about running into the people he didn’t want to see the most.

That’s where you’ve been ever since.

You’d worked with Seb, Charles, and Kimi before you had finally landed on Carlos in 2021, who you’d worked with ever since.

It wasn’t until 2025 when you finally had to work with someone else.

You hadn’t won any championships since Nico’s one in 2016. You didn’t seem too put-off by it, though, simply stating, “Forza Ferrari” as your reasoning when asked in interviews about why you’ve stuck with the team for so long.

Now, you work with Lewis.

Over the years since you’d left Mercedes, Lewis had made an effort to keep up with you. He’d wait for you after the occasional race, text you about results, chat with you on the grid about boring strategy talk. It was mostly small stuff just for you to know that he hadn’t forgotten about you and didn’t want to.

At Ferrari, you’re a saint.

He’s pretty sure he’s never worked with someone so nice in this sport. You're polite over the radios (despite the circumstances), keeping your messages simple and concise, you understand when he doesn’t want to hear it without him even having to say something, and you know just what to say to get him to peak performance.

He’s missed you really.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t really thought much when you left. You were focused on your job and staying with Nico as long as you could.

He still visits, sometimes. When he’s not busy with his big-boy sky sports job.

Ferrari has become your family. When Carlos had gotten replaced, you were honestly devastated to see him go. Four years spent with the same driver, the first time you’d not flip-flopped between them in the off-seasons, and he’s gone just like that.

But Lewis coming in was a different type of excitement.

You’d always admired Lewis. He was the one winning all these championships, breaking all these records, everything he’d done had been monumental.

Of course, he’s also your friend, which helps the joy.

The bond you two have has always been one of thinly-veiled adoration disguised as something much more surface-level. Something without implications.

Something that won't give you a headache the size of McLaren’s ego.

So, you don’t mention the strange tension. You pretend that friends always brush hands when they walk next to each other, always laugh louder when around eachother even when the jokes aren’t funny, always catch each other staring when one isn’t looking.

Lewis never mentions it. So you don’t either.

But anyways, you’re not a fan of Qatar.

It’s hot and sticky and riddled with not-so favorable memories of not winning.

But it seemed most tracks had those memories these days.

You’re supposed to be talking to the engineers about tire wear from the first practice, which had just concluded. The pair of Ferraris were in ninth and tenth and you were tasked with figuring out why the hell two of the best drivers on the grid could barely crack the top half.

But you’re not talking to the engineers, actually. Instead, Charles had dragged you into a long-winded conversation about turn ten that you honestly couldn’t find it in yourself to care about. You had seen the data from turn ten. He was the fastest through it even despite his low speed for the rest of the lap. So, you’re not really talking any of this information to heart. You’re not even his race engineer.

You fan at your face, trying to get rid of at least a little bit of the incessant heat soaking into your skin. You’re sweating and the high-quality fabric of your team polo isn’t making it any better. Charles just won't stop talking.

“The tire wear was causing me to slide into it towards the end of the session and it was slowing me down significantly, almost lost the back end for the last ten laps,” That’s almost some information you can actually use. Though, it’s delivered with a monegasque accent and a sad little frown.

You wave your hand around the air without much aim, shaking your head, “You were fastest in turn ten, Cha. You wanna tell me more about the tire wear though?”

Charles furrows his eyebrows, taken aback, “Really?”

He seems confused, though he quickly pivots to your question, opening his mouth to answer when suddenly Fred walks up, clapping the driver on the shoulder with a grin, “That was shit.”

You snort and Charles sends the older man a glare, trying to duck away when he reaches up to ruffle the driver's hair. You just laugh at the sight, eyes crinkling and lips turning upwards.

They move along, bickering back and forth in the familiar way they do, all muttered Italian and sniping remarks. You laugh, turning away as they walk away.

You face out of the garage, eyes looking toward the pit lane. You scan the now-empty stands, eyes flickering between the few stragglers left waiting for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. You wave at a little girl in a Ferrari hat who looks your way with a grin.

It’s dead hot in this country. Like the kind of hot that makes you want to peel off your shirt and lay down on the cold concrete. You passively fan at your face, trying to at least create a little bit of a breeze for your shining skin.

“Warm?” A voice rings out from behind you, a familiar joyful tone laced into it.

You turn around, leaning against the side of the garage entrance next to you. Your eyes land on a familiar face, Ferrari cap on his head and a red fan in his hand, his wrist flicking as he moves it back and forth. For what it’s worth, he does look like he’s dealing with the heat better than you are.

“Just a bit,” you reply coolly, smiling slightly and crossing your arms as he approaches, “You seem to be doing fine, though.”

He doesn’t respond, just lifts his other hand and tosses you a red fan, identical to the one in his hand. You spread it out, noticing the gold detailing and the Ferrari logo that forms as you do. It’s beautiful. You’re more worried about how well it will deter the heat, though.

As you start to fan yourself, he moves to stand beside you, looking out toward the pit lane. You turn back around to face that way as well, gazing out at the setting sun. It only stands as a reminder of just how long you’ve been here, in the garage, today. A soft sigh leaves your lips. Lewis doesn’t hear it.

“It’s a nice weekend,” he states. You glance his way but his eyes are locked onto the watercolor sky, the rainbow of colors reflected in the shines of his irises.

You hum, “Is it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Got a good feeling.”

You can’t help the way your lips turn up or the way you have to look down to keep them from turning into a grin, “I’m glad.”

Lewis laughs, though you’re not sure why, “Good. I like it when you’re glad.”

You snort. Whatever that means, you wave it away, “Alright, Shakespeare. You should be getting back to the hotel. Get some sleep for tomorrow.”

“Any advice for qualifying, then?” He asks, finally peeling his eyes away from the setting sun and, instead, setting them on you.

You look at him, not avoiding eye contact, “You heard me in debrief.”

“Yeah,” Lewis shrugs, “But I want to hear you say it to me personally.”

You roll your eyes, dismissing the way your stomach flips, “Fine. You need to find some speed in turn three because you’re slow into turn five and turn three is where you have an advantage. You also need to avoid wearing the tires out because it’s causing you to slide into the last three turns and you have the fastest sector three times when you’re not on old tires. Your sector two is fast but it would be faster if you took the inside line instead of the racing line because of the way the car oversteers.”

When you finish speaking, Lewis is just staring at you, a soft smile on his lips, “Thank you.”

You hum, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, grin painted on your lips, “Don’t mention it.”

He doesn’t, for the record. He just stands next to you, flicking the fan back and forth, the movement causing a rhythmic click to be the only sound in the silence. You wave the fan too, just quieter, somehow.

Eventually, you do both depart, off back to the hotel for a night of rest. At least, Lewis will probably get a full night's rest. You’ll be up for most of it, looking at data and going over lap times, checking the strategists work and annotating whatever comments they had sent you for the sessions.

Qualifying is fine. Charles takes turn ten like he had been the whole weekend and sets the fastest time in that sector overall, slotting into fifth. Lewis puts on fresh tires in Q3, finds pace in turn three, takes the inside line in sector two, doesn’t slide in the last sector, and slots into second place. He’s only behind a particularly fast Oscar Piastri but beating any McLaren was a feat these days. The team is happy about the first-row start. You know you are.

But you’re even happier when Lewis finds your gaze after and you can tell he’s giving you the credit. The shine in his eyes says so, at least. Not that you’d tell anyone that.

Race day comes at last and, somehow, it’s the hottest day of the whole weekend. Engineers are drenching themselves in water and strategists have ice packs draped over their necks. Fred walks past with a crappy mechanical fan and you’re pretty sure you see Leo trot past toward a little pup cup of cool whipped cream in Alex’s hand.

You, though, have a red and gold fan clutched in your hand, waving it harshly to try and not die from heat exhaustion.

You’re going over data from qualifying in the pit lane, conversing with Fred about the strategy for the day. His cheap fan is whirring loudly from where he’s set it down on the counter in front of you, positioning himself to still be on the tail end of its breeze. You’d already had the race briefing a while ago. Now, Fred’s just trying to figure out what you’re going to say to Lewis when things inevitably go awry.

Speaking of Lewis, you can almost feel him approach from behind you. When you turn, he’s stood behind you, walking across the pit lane, ice vest against his red fireproofs, sunglasses against his heated face, and curls barely peaking out from under his cap.

Before he can even reach the two of you, you call out, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

His own eyes flicker over your head toward the grid where teams are huddled around their cars and their drivers, “No way, it’s hotter than the sun in that car.”

You snort, “Right, I forgot you’ve been around so long that you can just do what you want at this point.”

“It’s a benefit of the job,” he replies, walking up to lean between the two chairs, an elbow on each one, “Hey, Fred.”

“Lewis,” Fred nods, picking up his fan from the counter, “I’m going back to the air conditioned garage.”

“There’s AC here,” you reply jokingly, gesturing above you at the crappy vents that were half-heartedly installed into the pit lane booths.

“Yeah, right,” Fred rolls his eyes, not even sparing you the effort of turning around to reply as he walks back toward the red garage.

Once he’s out of sight, you turn back toward the screens with a huffed laugh.

“Grumpy old man,” Lewis says from beside you and you laugh, loudly, turning your head to gesture a vague apology to the Mercedes employees next to you who had been disturbed by the noise.

“That he is,” you reply, leaning back in the chair and waving the fan over your face. Though, the small-backed chairs don’t really allow much room for you to lean back.

It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch a replay of Max Verstappens qualifying lap a few times. Max had gotten sixth, uncharacteristically low for the Red Bull driver.

“Watch your oversteer coming out of turn ten towards the end of the first stint,” you mutter, furrowing your eyebrows at the screen.

“Hm?” Lewis replies, seemingly not having been looking at the same thing you were.

“Careful about oversteer out of turn ten with tire deg,” you repeat, replaying the two-second clip over again, “Max was the only one on used tires. They burned all of the available ones getting out of Q2. He oversteered out of turn ten and almost spun into the grass. Be careful.”

You hadn’t discussed turn ten. Rightfully so, the moment was so nondescript that it was barely noticeable. But if Max had let the car go even a centimeter further over the line he would’ve been on the grass and probably in the wall.

“Thanks,” Lewis hums. You don’t turn to him. You just nod.

When you do glance up, you notice many pairs of eyes pointed in your direction. You look up, finally tearing your gaze away from the lap that had entranced your attention. There’s movement on the track. More So than before.

“I do think you actually have to go now, Lew,” you hum, closing the footage of the lap and turning to look at the driver. You assume he’ll be looking where you were, ready to go out on track.

But no, he’s looking at you.

You try not to think about it.

“Lew,” you say softly when he doesn’t move. This gets his attention and he snaps out of it, nodding slightly.

“I’ll be hearing you, yeah?” He grins, backing away toward the gate in the wall.

You nod, “You always do.”

He laughs and turns around, rushing slightly to get through the gap in the fence. You watch as he slides through and, once you see him safely get to the Ferrari crowd, you look back away, leaning back into the pit wall and trying to pretend you’re interested in the lap times ahead of you.

The race itself is uneventful, for the most part. Lewis listens to you, he always does, though. A rookie crashes out on the opening lap. It doesn’t affect the Ferraris so you pay it little mind.

Lewis goes for the overtake on lap six. He gets it. He keeps the lead for the rest of the race. He crosses the finish line first.

After the podium, you ask him about his celebrations. He tells you he’s not going out, citing something about clubbing being a “younger man’s game.” You’re sure he’s still got it in him, though.

You don’t push him about it. You’ve never been one to meddle in the lives of others. If Lewis’s idea of a celebration is trying not to melt into the floor and icing his bad back, then so be it.

“Good race!” The cheerful voice of Fred Vasseur comes loudly from behind you. You spin around to meet the man’s smiling face.

“Thank you, Fred,” you reply coolly, trying not to grimace as the man’s arm slings around your shoulders. It is still entirely too hot in this country.

You pass time with the principal for a while after, talking with the various employees that move past as well. Charles, having gotten third, is in good spirits.

Eventually, you do extract yourself from the liveliness of the Ferrari garage in favor of heading back to the hotel to take a cold shower and pass out in your plush hotel room bed. You can still hear the cheers of the tifosi as you walk along the paddock.

Suddenly, an arm comes up to slither across your shoulders for the second time in the past hour. This time, the arm is painted with intricate inkings. Though, they’re hidden by the sleeve of his fireproof.

“Hello, winner,” you grin, not bothering to turn your head toward the man in question.

You don’t have to see him to know he’s grinning, “Couldn’t have done it without you, you know? Oscar slid coming out of turn ten, I didn’t. That’s what gave me the jump on him.”

“Well I’m glad to know I’m doing my job correctly,” you laugh, leaning just slightly more into his side. It’s now that you realize you’re no longer walking toward the parking lot but, instead, toward the drivers rooms. You don’t really mind enough to say anything.

“It’s never been a worry of mine,” he replies playfully, his tone sure.

“Of course you’re not worried,” you snort, shaking your head, “Being a seven time world champion kinda does make you sure of yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself,” he replies with a hum.

Oh.

You’re not entirely sure what to respond with so you just stay quiet. Though, the quiet isn’t awkward. It’s soft, comfortable. You don’t really think much as Lewis continues to guide you toward where you assume is his room. Maybe you should say something. You don’t really want to.

You reach the door quickly and Lewis pushes it open, peeling himself off of you to allow you both to walk inside.

Lewis’s room is immediately in character. There’s not much in it. Unsurprising considering the circumstances. But there are hints of him.

His clothes from before the race are folded neatly in a stack on the edge of the table in the corner. His helmet and gloves are already sitting beside them. His phone is plugged in to a charger, face up and powered off. His rings are sat neatly beside it.

“Do you want to get dinner?” Lewis has walked into the bathroom at this point, his voice stretching from the other room.

“Hm?” You reply, settling into the couch and picking up the dog stuffed animal that had been sitting on it before. A stuffed animal that looks surprisingly like Roscoe, actually.

“Some of the teams going to dinner to celebrate,” he calls out before he slowly reappears in the doorway to the bathroom, his race suit low on his hips, “Do you wanna come?”

You nod, sliding off your shoes and pulling your knees up toward your chest, “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Lewis watches your actions with a soft grin, seemingly thinking for a second before he nods, his smile stretching wider. He turns around to go back to the bathroom but as he does, he reaches over his head and grabs the collar of his fireproof, pulling it up and over his head.

You look away.

In your head, you’re giving him privacy but maybe it has more to do with the heat rising to your cheeks at an alarming pace.

You look so far away that the top of your head leans against the wall behind you. You don’t fight your eyes as they flicker closed.

“I’m going to take a shower!” Lewis calls, now back in the bathroom.

You grit your teeth, “Alright!”

Jesus Christ.

You’d never really thought much of Lewis like this. You’d seen him shirtless. Everyone had seen him shirtless. Either on the podium or when he walks in the paddock wearing what he would refer to as a shirt but everyone else would call a display of public indecency.

Maybe it’s because those times had all been from afar. But, for some reason, seeing him drag the red fabric over his back had your heart tapping like it never really had before for him.

Lewis had always been there. Always in the paddock, always just across the pit lane, always there. His move to Ferrari had shocked you but you hadn’t expected it to change things. It hadn’t. Not really. Not until now.

You spend the next ten minutes trying to pull yourself together. You eventually manage to calm your twisting stomach and pull out your phone, scrolling passively through emails and messages, plush Roscoe clutched tightly between your knees and your chest.

You set the device down next to you when you hear the bathroom door click open. You thank god you had already gotten yourself together before because you’re not sure how you would’ve reacted now if you hadn’t.

Lewis steps out of the bathroom, towel low on his hips, water droplets still running down his chest.

Jesus Christ. Again.

For the first time since you’d met him, you get the chance to really look at Lewis’s tattoos. Of course, you could’ve just googled them but that feels like a weird line you’re not going to cross. They’re pretty. You’d never noticed many of them. For some reason, they just make Lewis feel so human.

You try to pretend you’re not staring as Lewis steps around the room, grabbing his clothes out of one of his several suitcases and strolling back to the bathroom like you didn’t think he was insane.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Lewis steps out, pants now on, thank god. Though, he has his shirt half-on which isn’t particularly helpful for your situation.

“Can you help me with the clasp?” He asks, widening his eyes just slightly and gesturing toward the back of his shirt, “I can’t get it.”

You take a moment but you nod, setting Roscoe down and getting up from the couch. You pad lightly toward Lewis who turns away from you.

It’s a very Lewis shirt. All sheer and silk and lace settling against his chest and not really leaving much to the imagination.

You slowly lift your hands, gazing at his tattoos through the fabric. You finally reach the clasp, the nape of his neck the only part of his back truly exposed by the gap in the fabric. Your eyes trail over the skin, admiring the intricate inkings. But, they catch.

“Lewis,” you say almost breathlessly, fingers just barely hovering above his skin, tracing the air in a continuous pattern, “What is this heart on your neck?”

You see him pause. It’s almost as if he’s debating what response he’s going to give you. Eventually, he responds, “My soul mark.”

He’s resigned in the way he says it. As if this will make you run away in fear. As if this is the end of your knowing him. He doesn’t know how wrong he is.

“Lew…” you trail off, your voice almost desperate. Your eyes won’t leave the mark and you can feel your eyes welling despite your attempts to push this deep down inside yourself.

Lewis Hamilton. Your soulmate. The man who had always been there, always been around, eternally meant for you.

Your eyes are forced to leave the mark though, when Lewis turns around, peeling the shirt off over his head and practically throwing it at the floor, no regard for where it lands.

“I’ll get a different shirt,” his voice is stern but you notice the slight shake that he’s desperately trying to hide.

“Lew-“ you say, tone practically pleading. You reach forward and grab his wrist before he can fully walk past you and he doesn’t try to pull himself away. He just looks away, shirt clutched in his fist.

You don’t let go of his hand after silence falls between you. Instead, you pull his hand up, stepping forward slightly. You place your hand over the back of his, your other hand gently wrapping around his wrist.

He doesn’t look your direction. Though, he doesn’t try to move away.

You just watch his face, a practiced mask hiding the turmoil in his soul. You slowly raise his hand, stepping within his reach. Gently, so kindly, you place his hand on the nape of your neck. You can see his brows furrow.

You slide his palm slowly until you reach the mark you had become so familiar with. You can feel his fingers twitching as he slowly seems to sense the shape under the warmth of his tattooed hand.

You watch as the tenseness in his features fade and it’s replaced by a slight furrow in his eyebrows. The tip of his finger starts to trace the edges of the heart. You don’t loosen your grip on his wrist.

He finally looks up, shock evident on his face, “Yn-“

He pauses, clearly unsure. He looks you in your eyes for the first time since he’d asked you to button his shirt. Slowly, he pulls you into his grasp, wrapping an arm around your torso. Then, only once you’re firmly in his grasp, he melts. You can feel his entire body relax and you shift to just let him hold you closer. His arms wind tighter around you.

You stand there like that for a while, nothing but the sound of your breathing to keep you company.

“Love,” Lewis pulls away just slightly, moving his hand to rest against the side of your face. Lewis had called you love before. It was his default after just your first name. But this time, it feels like more, “Can I- can I kiss you?”

You let out a sound half-way between a laugh and a sigh. A smile pulls at the edges of your mouth and you don’t have to force the nod that shakes your head side to side.

Then, his lips are on yours. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve felt before. But, at the same time, it feels so deeply familiar. It feels so Lewis. It feels like the guy you had a crush on nine years ago but could barely talk to without getting nervous and then also getting a rant from Nico. It feels like the man who says “good day for a race” over the radio every single time you ask him to check in. It feels like the man who asked you to button his shirt. As if he couldn’t just do it himself.

It’s warm, hot, really. His hand is still against your neck, tracing a pattern while his other hand is pulling your face closer to his own. Your own arms slither up to wrap around the back of his neck.

Eventually, you have to come up for air, pulling away from Lewis and looking up at the man who has been so intertwined in your very being, forcing himself into every nook and cranny of your life for nine years.

“Still wanna go to that dinner?” You ask, breathlessly.

It breaks the silence and Lewis laughs, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them and looks at you with a kind of tenderness you had only seen him aim at his dog and his car, “Yeah.”

You don’t even have time to furrow your eyebrows before he continues, “Just not with them.”

That gets you. You lean back in, having to fight your smile away to press your lips to his.

Maybe you’d always known it was Lewis. Maybe some part of your brain had recognized that he was your soulmate all those nine years ago and forced you to have a stupid crush on him. You’d thought it was a stupid crush at least. You’d thought you’d gotten over it.

Unfortunately, pressing your lips to his had made your stomach twist worse than when he had met you, shook your hand and squeezed just slightly before he pulled away. Worse than it did when his eyes had caught yours and his other hand rested on the back of your own as he shook.

You’re a goner. But you guess you don’t mind being gone for him.

Later that night, after a long dinner filled with memories and laughs about things that haven’t happened yet, Lewis drops you off at your room.

Or, at least, he tries to drop you off. It’s no one’s business if you catch his wrist and drag him in behind you before you slam the door.

When you fall asleep, it’s just four hearts, intertwined.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119 @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:08 pm]

(cw: f!reader, alcohol consumption)

Honestly, fratboy!Jeno wasn't even sure why he'd joined a frat in the first place. He'd been told by one of his friends that it was good for networking once he entered the workforce, so he decided to join. He just had to constantly remind himself that putting up with his idiot frat brothers would pay off in the future when he was job hunting.

As a rule of thumb, he interacted with his frat brothers as little as he could. He didn't live in the frat house, he didn't really hang out at the house in general, he only attended mandatory meetings and fundraisers. Why? Well, besides the fact that he felt he lost brain cells around the brothers, he'd just much rather spend his time with you, his girlfriend.

The two of you had started dating back in middle school and he hadn't laid his eyes on anyone since. He didn't want to. He was so madly in love with you and you alone. You two had spent so long together, that now both of you were just two peas in a pod, mirror images of each other. Maybe both of you were more reclusive because you preferred each other's company over any one else's.

There were, however, a few times when the two of you would break out of your shells and let loose. At least once a semester. Nights like tonight, for example. The two of you had decided to leave the comfort of your shared apartment and join the frat for a... fourth Friday of the month party. Whatever that was. These were the nights when you and Jeno let loose, these smaller parties where the house wasn't packed with people no one had ever seen before. There was room to move around, plenty of alcohol to spare, and the music tended to be just a smidge more quiet so people could actually talk.

You had a plastic cup in your hand, making conversation with one of the guys' girlfriends when suddenly, one of your favorite songs came on. You squealed excitedly, setting your cup down before dragging Jeno to the designated dance floor area.

Jeno gripped your hips but not tight enough to to hinder your dancing. With the alcohol making you feel more loose and your favorite song blasting so loud it rattled your brain, you felt good. Your hands cupped the back of Jeno's neck as you loudly sang along to the song. Jeno laughed softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he mumbled along with the lyrics.

The song came to an end, but you and Jeno didn't leave the dance floor. No, now the two of you were once again lost in your own little world, no attention paid to anyone else. Just the two of you having a good time and leaving all inhibitions behind.

"Where's Jeno? I remembered that professor he was asking me about," Doyoung asked the group of his shocked frat brothers.

"I've never seen him dance. What planet are we on right now?" He heard Haechan mumble.

"The dancing is new, but bro, I've never even seen him laugh, let alone smile! Who is that?" Mark replied.

Doyoung squinted his eyes, looking in the direction where everyone was looking to fall on the sight of you and Jeno pressed chest to chest and smiling at one another. You said something and Jeno tossed his head back with an unrestrained laugh.

Doyoung smiled at the sweet sight. Even though he rarely saw Jeno, it was pretty safe to say that he was one of his favorite frat brothers. In fact, Doyoung was Jeno's Big. He thought that Jeno was smart, had a good head on his shoulders, and was a nice breath of fresh air from all the stereotypical dude behavior that constantly went down in Nu Chi Theta.

"That's Jeno's girlfriend," Doyoung answered.

Immediately Mark and Haechan whipped their heads back to look at Doyoung while shouting, "girlfriend?!"

"Oh yeah. Jeno told me that they were childhood best friends, their moms knew each other, and they were neighbors growing up. I think he said they've been together since they were 12," Doyoung replies.

"12?!" The two reply in unison.

"Is that a problem?" Comes Jeno's monotonous voice which makes everyone jump and turn in his direction. He stands beside you with his arm around your shoulders while yours is wound around his waist. Your head lays against his chest, eyes sparkling with humor as you look at the shocked faces staring back at you.

Haechan opens and closes his mouth in shock, finally sputtering, "you choose a girl over us?!"

Mark slaps his shoulder and Jeno sends him a grateful nod before turning his attention to Haechan with a blank stare, "no shit I choose her over you. Dude, you're annoying and this house is gross. I get to share a space with the love of my life and have my own bathroom that I share with one other person, not over 10 guys."

"That sounds kid of nice actually. When can we come visit?" Haechan asks.

Jeno pretends to think it over, "hmmm, how about never?"

[roolsilver]

And he's my favorite character in the series. Eustace is one of the best-written character arcs of all time. The Pevensies did it together, the OG duo were TOGETHER. Eustace was the cousin everybody hated and he KNEW IT. He was dragged along- nobody wanted him there, and he didn't want to be there. His big moment was tears of LONELINESS. He was an angry, horrible teenage boy, desperate to please his parents, and if it made everyone else hate him he took pride in that too.

Everybody knows Edmond. Edmond makes his mistakes, Edmond gets tempted by the Witch, but Eustace isn't led astray by the promises of a great evil. Eustace is just a horrible boy. He's whiny and miserable and so terribly NORMAL that it's easy to hate him. Eustace's greatest villain is Eustace. Eustace's great sacrifice is Eustace. He has to change himself, and he has to do it himself.

Eustace goes home a disappointment to his parents, and he knows it. He can't be the boy he was anymore. He's better than that now, and he knows he will suffer for it. His priorities have shifted. He's made real friends and lost them. He's made real friends of his cousins and keeps them close.

And when he goes back, where he thought he never would, he's still his better self. It's not that he never complains, or whines, or bemoans his fate, but that's why they put a foil in for him. To show how much he is still different than he was. His first story starts with him as a villain. His second story starts with him as a hero.

[idontactuallywrite]

+18 mdni one night stand!simon riley x reader (reader and simon are avoidants lol)

you've been out of a toxic relationship for a year or two, haven't seen anyone since. not that you were stuck on your ex, you just couldn't be bothered with the whole relationship shit. a few flirts, some half-assed texting, a date or two where you ordered the cheapest drink just to get out faster. nothing stuck. serious isn’t your thing.

it wasn't his either.

he hadn't come out for anything. just a quiet pint or two to take the edge off.

then you walked in.

not loud, not flashy. a dress that skimmed your thighs but didn’t cling. laughter soft with your friends. a pretty bird that didn't belong in a pub full of older men nursing their big pints watching football.

and then your eyes met his. brief, but deliberate.

your friend leaned in, whispered something. you just shrugged, glanced back at the bar. at him. you were here on holiday, might as well indulge a little bit.

he noticed the glances. the way you lingered near the bar like you wanted him to see you, but weren’t desperate for attention.

the subtle lean closer when you ordered another drink. the way your spine arched just so his eyes could wander.

the smile you gave the bartender, held just long enough before you turned to meet his eyes across the room. how you swayed your hips walking away with the repeated rounds of drinks he knew you and your friends couldn't finish.

and some time later you sat near the bar after your friends left.

coincidentally. open—a quiet invitation for him.

in his field of work he's been there long enough to know when something wasn’t quite a coincidence. knew how to read people. situations. signals.

then here you were, back in his hotel room. your heel lay by the door, the other stubbornly half-on as you tried to peel it off between kisses, both of you fumbling just enough to feel alive. his hands slid down the dip of your waist, tracing the flare of your hips before tugging gently at the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head in one swift motion.

everything else fell away and finally what felt like forever you were sprawled under him, his strong forearm pressing hard into the back of your thigh, forcing you open as he drove deep into you.

your half-lidded eyes raked down to where his abdomen flexed, every brutal thrust sending muscles tightening and releasing. glimpse of scars, pale lines etched to his skin.

you remembered asking what he did. he muttered something about his work being military-adjacent. no rank, no details, just a shrug and a swig of his pint. you didn't press further.

"oh...fuckkk." your head fell back, lips part when he hit that sweet spot. the moan crawled up slow, rumbling in your throat before spilling out. soft and wrecked, half a sigh, half a sob.

"that's it..." he murmured, voice low and rough with that thick accent you found so hot. the filthy slap of skin against skin echoed through the room as he fucked into your sopping heat.

"good girl." his coo made you clamp down on him like a vice.

he shifted forward, pressing in deeper with a grunt. the forearm braced behind the back of your thigh now pushing up against your chest. a moan tore from your throat, breath hitching. he had you bent, and folded into a mating press. his breath, hot and sharp with whiskey, fanned against your lips.

he fucked you like he knew you, he fucked you like you weren't just some stranger from the pub he gave into entertaining tonight. he fucked you like he wanted to forget and remember all at once. like he needed it. like he needed you.

his cock had you drunk, more than you can say about the shit drinks you forced yourself to order, just for an excuse to hang around the bar and be near him.

his forearm pressed tighter into your thigh, pinning you as he fucked you hard, fierce, raw, urgent. then his calloused hand curled at your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his before he pulled you up for a bruising kiss. the kiss was raw and real. like he needed to claim you, to remember you.

the kind of intimacy that clawed at something inside you, that usually made you pull away, that leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

for him, the kiss held a quiet frustration, an ache buried beneath the surface. the sting of knowing this was only one night, impossible to be more.

everything you both always walked away from, laid bare in that moment.

and when the wave of pleasure hit, it hit hard.

your walls spasmed around his cock. eyes fluttering, lips parted. his name—no, the fake name he gave you, spilled from your pretty lips in a broken moan. and for a moment, he wished he'd told you the real one. just so he could hear it.

a guttural grunt deep in his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, a bruising grip at your waist. you arched into him, one hand clawing at the bicep flexed beside your head, the other caught awkwardly between your bodies, pinned between your ribs and the press of his shoulder blades, as if you weren't ready to let go yet. his breath burned against your neck, hot and uneven, the weight of him all around you.

when you both came down from your high, he slid beside. chest rising and falling, heavy breaths, the smell of sex thick in the room.

part of you wanted to tell him your flight wasn't actually tomorrow, but the night after. that maybe there was time—just a little for something. but the words caught in your throat, you swallowed them down.

you slipped out of the sheets, moved slowly. he watched as you got dressed. quiet. didn't ask, didn't reach. just breathed.

he called the cab for you. not in a trying to discard you kind of way, but like someone who understood you both got what you came for. but also, who knew if he let you linger even a minute longer, it might start meaning more than it was supposed to.

might open a door to something dangerous, something neither of you were ready for.

no numbers exchanged. no kiss goodbye. just left it at that.

that night stuck with you more than it should've. you caught yourself thinking about it often. mentioned it offhand to friends. at first, they listened—attentive. but their responses dulled over time, less curious, less amused. like they'd heard it one too many times, you didn't even realize.

a part of you wondered if it stuck with him too.

it did.

[nataliasquote]

To Build a Home | n romanoff

summary: natasha comes home from a tough routine mission and wants nothing more than to shut the outside world out for a night.

warnings: mentions of injury, explosions, fluffff and soft Nat

wc: 2.5k

note: more soft Nat for you all! some of you know who I wrote this for :) I hope she enjoys it because i’m very very proud of her

-⧗-

The waiting was the worst part.

The days leading up to a mission were good, and the mission time itself had happened enough for it to feel routine by now, but the sinking gut feeling never quite dissipated no matter how many nights Natasha was away from home.

Y/n knew how to keep herself busy, throwing herself into work and social events that occurred on the daily at SHIELD. But the vast emptiness of their shared city apartment only seemed to feel colder as the nights crept by, a lowness settling in the air like a sheet. Company was a four-legged friend who clearly had a preference for Natasha, but curled up close by when she was nowhere to be seen. Liho was moody but he knew his duty.

The living room was bathed in a warm light and music trickled softly from the speakers nestled beside the tv, adding to the ambience who’s only role was to fill the never ending silence. Y/n sat tucked up to the coffee table, mission reports scattered across the wooden surface as she sat, feet tucked under her like a child.

There was something grounding about sitting on the floor, the softness of the rug offering a sliver of comfort as she wrote. Hours or minutes could be passing, it wasn’t clear. Every day just felt impossibly longer. Dinner had long passed, but her appetite had left with Natasha, only a dull ache now residing in her stomach. Certainly not the most healthy habit, and one that the redhead wishes she could stop, but cooking for one only cemented the worries that she wouldn’t return home.

Even now, the coffee in her mug had turned cold, abandoned beside a pouch of pens and various stationary items. The caffeine was to stay awake, sure, but anxiety seemed to have that job down well, and sleep felt like lightyears away. Y/n wrote steadily, movements rarely ceasing unless to pause to read. But it drowned out everything else, and that’s all that mattered.

Time passed slowly until…

The soft click of a lock.

Y/n’s head turned to the door, eyes straining in the dim light as the door handle pressed slowly downwards. She didn’t rush to get up, no, this was routine. No sudden movements or noises because there was no saying what state Natasha would be in when she returned.

The redhead kept her head low, exhaustion weighing every muscle down until it was almost painful to walk. Autopilot had taken over in her mind and she barely registered even being back in her apartment - but here she was. Hooded eyes, dim with the horrors of the mission, cast across the room until a figure registered into focus, no longer a hazy outline, but something stronger… something real.

The sight of her girlfriend on the floor across the room, the glow of the light catching her hair and illuminating the softness of a hoodie she recognised - hers. The usual mismatched socks, the stray strand of hair, the painted but slightly chipped nail polish, it was so painfully familiar, and it was hers.

Natasha let her bag drop to the floor with a controlled thud, her eyes not even registering where it landed as they locked with a pair she knew more than anything else in the world. Not a word was spoken as she padded across the wooden floor, footsteps heavier than normal, and sank down onto the floor.

Her joints ached and her muscles screamed but she didn’t care. Her back found solace against the front of the couch but even the support that gave her wouldn’t truly satiate the need she’d suppressed for 3 weeks straight.

“Hi,” Y/n spoke softly, quickly scanning her girlfriend’s body for any signs of pain. She looked okay, but more would probably be revealed later on in the night. The gentle tug of a gaze pulled her eyes back upwards, where they settled on the face she could trace in her sleep. Every fibre in her body was on fire with the urge to leap forwards, but not without Natasha’s permission. There was no telling how or what she was feeling, and caution was crucial.

But maybe it wasn’t needed as much with the redhead. Even Natasha smiled and leaned forward, pulling Y/n in by the waist until she settled on her lap. Her bruised hands immediately found warm skin under the hoodie and she laced her fingers, locking them together in an embrace, locking their bodies together as one.

“How did it go?”

Natasha didn’t answer at first, too focussed on the weight that grounded her. She pressed her face into the space between Y/n’s shoulder and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of something more natural than perfume.

“Got everything and more,” she simply replied. “The flash drive opened up a whole rabbit warren of leads to follow, and we got one of the main suspects to reveal blueprints, so we’re one step ahead.” There was something unspoken but that would come on Natasha’s terms.

“Fury satisfied?” Natasha nodded, her grip tightening as she moved her hands higher up Y/n’s back. The bare expanse of skin was inviting and she held her there, close and safe, the way she needed it.

Natasha wasn’t a talker after gruelling missions, preferring to sit in silence to drown out the horrors in her head. And this time, her body had been put through hell, so the comforting weight of her safe person silenced every last gunshot and scream.

“I needed this,” she mumbled, her nose dragging up the side of Y/n’s neck until she got to her jaw. “Needed you.”

“I know baby, I know.” Y/n gently took Natasha’s face in her palms, cool skin on burning cheeks. There were dark circles around the redhead’s eyes, and flecks of dirt hidden amongst freckles. “I wanted you safe.” Natasha leaned into her touch, savouring this tender moment.

She hummed. “I am safe now.” And she was. Even in the forest with the darkness of night setting her senses on high alert and her stress levels skyrocketing, the steady memory of her girl in her mind gave Natasha the solace she needed to keep pushing through. And no amount of shooting or fighting was ever going to take that away.

She dropped her head forwards again, temples pushed up against the fabric of her stolen sweater. Perfume, muted but sweet, filled her nose, grounding her in the moment. A gentle hand threaded itself into her braid, now loose from days of travel and sharp movements. It scraped against her scalp, slow and reverent, easing the tension with every pass. She could have fallen asleep right there in the comfort and tranquility of her safe space, even if the hardwood floor was starting to dig into her bones.

They sat entwined as minutes ticked past, no words uttered. Just breathing and existing as one, the stress of the mission slowly melting into the floor and releasing its grip on the redhead’s stiff muscles. The distant slam of a door or shrill ring of a phone barely registered in this newfound paradise. The only movement from Natasha as she stroked Liho’s side as he stalked past, still salty from his lack of attention.

Natasha let out a soft groan as her legs started cramping. She lifted her head, eyes half shut, and brushed the scarred skin of Y/n’s hip. “Baby,” she whined, voice cracking slightly. Y/n shifted carefully, guiding her onto the couch before she was promptly pulled into her side, cheek resting on the redhead’s chest.

“Dinner?” Natasha knew the answer, and the subtle hum that vibrated across her collarbones made her shake her head subtly.

“You know I can’t without you,” Y/n replied, slightly guilty. Natasha kissed her forehead gently, letting her lips linger for a few seconds before she pulled away. “Did you get some at SHIELD?”

Natasha laughed breathily. “Detka, I came straight here. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.” Debrief wasn’t important. Whatever Fury had to say, it could wait. And no one dared complain, not to her. No one got in the way of Natasha Romanoff and her home.

Y/n pushed herself up from her position, mindful of her girlfriend’s battered body as she reached for her phone. She tapped frantically, a small frown etching itself between her brows as she paused before tossing it to the side.

“Fifteen minutes,” she murmured, eyes scanning Natasha’s body on instinct. “Do you need anything?”

“My wife,” Natasha replied with a smirk, grabbing her hips and tugging her body closer once more, grinning at the squeal her girl let out as she fell.

Y/n raised an eyebrow once she’d recovered, slightly taken aback. “Wife, hm?”

“Is that not allowed?”

“I don’t see a rock on my finger,” Y/n said, wiggling her fingers in front of her face. “But maybe I can make an exception.”

“Oh no,” said Natasha, grabbing the hand in question and pulling it to her lips. “My soon-to-be wife deserves the biggest diamond ring. Jewels fit for royalty, perhaps.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, pressing her back against the couch cushions so she could get a better look at Natasha’s face. “Okay but seriously, is that something you want?”

“Marriage?” Y/n nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. This time it was Natasha’s turn to cup her face, dark bruises a stark contrast to such clear skin. “I want everything with you. Whilst I was away, all I could think about was how I don’t want to waste time anymore. I want to do life with you, forever, as my wife. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I want it too.”

It was all either of them had ever wanted. Stability. A place to call home where the rest of the world didn’t matter. And on the rather small couch of the SHIELD issued apartment, nothing else mattered. There were no deadlines, no meetings, no whining level 1’s who didn’t realise how brutal combat training would be. It was just them, soft touches and slow kisses that melted two broken people into something beautiful and imperfectly whole.

The peace of the lazy cuddles was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Y/n slipped away to answer it whilst Natasha hauled her aching body over to the kitchen. Only now did it register how much her throat and stomach screamed for food and water, and she poured a couple of glasses in the meantime.

The savoury scent of chinese takeout wafted from the bag as Y/n reappeared at her girlfriend’s side, a gleeful smile on her face as she revealed the boxes of noodles and rice dishes.

“You know how to win over a woman,” Natasha sighed as she opened her box of noodles, almost salivating at the smell of warm onions and spices. “And you know me so well.”

“I’d hope so,” Y/n answered, leaning over the counter to grab cutlery. But her journey was cut short when she felt hands on her waist, turning her around and pressing her gently against the countertop. “Natasha…”

The redhead pushed their bodies close, pelvises pressed together. “God, I missed being able to hold you, baby,” she admitted, hands naturally resting on the woman’s hips. “I’m never leaving again.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “We both know that’s a lie.” She pressed a kiss to Natasha’s lips before she could protest and slipped over to the couch, food in hand and a rather eager stomach. “Stop pouting, my love, and come eat.”

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes now, more towards herself at how easily she folded for the woman in front of her. She didn’t take orders well, but any request from Y/n and she did it without a second thought. Gone were the emotional constraints of the mission, scars of emotional and mental manipulation eased by the mere presence of such a sweet soul. Kind, caring, everything she needed and so much more.

And here she was now, just softly smiling down at her box of fried rice. Natasha had to take a second, chopsticks hovering near her mouth in an attempt to process. Why did she deserve this? Or how, even? The things she’d done, what she’d seen, that didn’t warrant the purity that was sat cross legged on the couch beside her. Okay so maybe she was more shaken up from the interrogation than she’d let on, 18 hours wasn’t enough time to process, but it would take years for her to ever truly realise how deserving she was.

Y/n picked up on her hesitation, calm eyes searching her lover gently. She didn’t need to speak, the tenderness said it all, and Natasha brought her food to her lips, the feeling of home slowly settling into her bones.

Just eating and existing, no talks of missions or combat or the horrors of the job. That would come later, when bruises become exposed after the shedding of clothes, or the screams that accompanied nightmares that would plague the next week. But right now, they were normal. Maybe not by societal standards, but they didn’t need that. They had each other and Natasha was too scared to lose that.

“He’s still mad you left for so long,” Y/n uttered, eyeing the rather grouchy ball of black fur that was curled up on the windowsill.

“He is? Or you are?” Natasha was smug, although it didn’t quite make her eyes sparkle like usual.

“Him, definitely.” Natasha gave her a look. “Okay fine, me too…” her eyes shifted, suddenly interested in a piece of cat hair stuck to the couch cushion. “I just get scared, Nat. I can’t help it.”

Natasha reached out, taking her hand in her own, clasping tightly. Her fingers were cool in comparison and they rubbed over smooth skin carefully. “You know I always come home.”

“But what if you don’t? And I'm left here all alone, with a cat who doesn’t even like me, and-”

“Baby,” Natasha softly interrupted, her voice low and calm. “I’m never leaving you. I don’t care what I have to crawl out of, or blow up, I am always coming home. To you, to Liho, to whatever family we will have in the future.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Pinky promise.” Natasha kissed her pinky finger - she was serious. She never meant to cause this much worry, but her girlfriend’s anxieties never truly ceased until she was home and in bed, a physical reminder of safety.

And now, with their fingers intertwined and takeaway packages discarded, a humbling reminder of normality settled across the living space. There was no need to pretend anymore. Their bodies melted together, Natasha’s lazy hands straying under the loose sweatshirt to trace patterns across damaged skin. Steady, slow, a silent mantra. She was here, and she wasn’t leaving again.

She’d built this home and no one was going to take that away.