#there's just something about the guy that makes me want to be mean to him; is that concerning?

[cameronsbabydoll]

spoiled kook reader is everything rafe wants: soft, naive, and effortlessly pretty, with that clueless, wide-eyed charm that makes him feel needed and in control. she’s not dumb, but she’s oblivious to danger, which fuels his overprotectiveness. rafe gets frustrated when she doesn’t take things seriously—like when she giggles at something he’s mad about or brushes off red flags because she’s too caught up in her own little world.

but at the same time, rafe loves it. he loves that she needs him to make decisions, loves that she’s so wrapped up in her pink-tinted bubble that she doesn’t see how crazy he is about her. she’s the kind of girl who pouts when she doesn’t get her way, who spends hours doing her hair just to lounge by the pool, who buys expensive things without thinking about the price. and rafe? he enables it. always tells her she doesn’t have to worry about anything—that’s his job.

the way he grips her jaw and forces her to listen when she gets too lost in her own head? the way he growls out, “pay attention when I’m talkin’ to you, princess,” because she’s too busy twirling her hair and admiring her manicure?

and can you imagine when rafe brings her around his friends? she’s completely out of place in their conversations, sitting pretty in his lap with her pink manicured fingers wrapped around a vodka cran, her lips glossy and slightly parted because she’s only half-listening. rafe is of course deep in conversation about something serious—money, business, or maybe even something dumb like the stock market or sports —and she just blinks up at him, twirling a strand of her perfectly curled hair.

“rafey, what does offshore mean?” she asks, tilting her head, genuinely clueless while the guys snicker.

kelce will mutter something like, “god, she’s adorable,” and topper will laugh and say, “you keep her around for the looks, huh, rafe?”

and rafe? he hates when they talk about her like that, like she’s just some dumb, pretty accessory. his grip on her thigh tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin as he glares at his friends. “shut the fuck up.”

but she doesn’t even realize what’s happening. she’s just giggling, clinking her nails against her drink. “ugh why are you squeezing so hard, rafey? gonna leave bruises,” she pouts, not even realizing that’s exactly what he wants.

and when another guy—maybe some no-name Kook douche—tries to flirt with her, assuming she’s too airheaded to notice? rafe will lose his shit. because sure, she may be ditzy, but she’s his.

“she is not interested,” rafe snaps before she can even process what’s happening, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

but instead of understanding, she just blinks up at him, wide-eyed and confused. “omg wait, was he flirting?”

rafe clenches his jaw, barely containing his frustration. because of course she didn’t. she’s far too sweet, too oblivious. and it drives him crazy.

and later, when they’re alone, he makes sure she knows who she belongs to. “you don’t even get it, do you?” he mutters, pressing her against the nearest surface. “y-you walk around lookin’ like that, talkin’ like that, and you don’t even realize what you do to me.”

and she just blinks up at him, chewing on her glossy bottom lip. “…like what?”

and rafe just groans, dragging a hand down his face. Because he loves her, but she’s gonna be the death of him.

[eclipsturns]

⎯⎯⎯⎯ NOW YOU'RE WATCHING ... uber driver!matt fucks you after a shitty date.

your date was a bust; some guy named andrew who spent two hours at a shitty diner droning about his gym routine, barely looking up from his phone, leaving you bored and dry as hell. you’re more than done with this, heels clicking on the curb as you book an uber, the night air cool against your skin, your little black dress hugging your curves, wasted on a dud.

a black, beat-up sedan with cracked windows rolls up and matt (or at least that's the name on your phone) slides into view, leaning an elbow out, smirking like he’s already got you figured out. he’s all messy brown hair, sharp jaw, plaid shirt unbuttoned over a white tee, eyes raking you up and down with zero shame.

“rough night, huh? y’look like you just escaped a fuckin’ coma,” he says, voice low and lazy, dripping with a cocky grin as you climb in the back, slamming the door harder than you mean to. “address’s set—where we goin’, princess?”

“home,” you mutter, crossing your arms, staring out the window, but he’s not letting it drop, glancing at you in the rearview, one brow cocked.

“home? nah, you’re dressed like that for some loser who couldn’t even make you sweat? tell me ‘bout this clown, c’mon, spill it.”

you roll your eyes, but he’s got this pushy, crude way, like he’s daring you to bite back. “andrew. gym rat. talked about protein shakes so much i wanted to claw my ears off. didn’t even kiss me—just a handshake. a fuckin’ handshake.”

matt laughs—loud, sharp, head tipping back. “a handshake? shit, what a pussy. you wasted that dress on a dude who can’t even get you wet, that’s tragic, babe, y’could’a stayed home and fucked yourself better.” his eyes flick to you again, dark and glinting, tongue swiping his lip like he’s tasting the idea. “bet he wouldn’t know what to do with you anyway—look at ya, all pent up, sittin’ there like y’need a real man to fix that.”

heat creeps up your neck, a mix of annoyance and something else. his words are crass, intrusive, but they hit, stirring the frustration andrew left simmering. “and what, you think you’re that guy?” you snap, leaning forward, elbows on the seatback, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “big talk for some uber driver.”

he smirks wider, cynical and hot, shifting gears with a lazy flick of his wrist. “oh, i’m more than that, sweetheart. i’d have you screamin’ in ten minutes—hands are quick, tongue’s quicker. y’wanna test me? or y’too scared to find out andrew’s not the only one who can’t deliver?”

it’s a taunt, bold and filthy, and he chuckles when you don’t flinch, just stare back, pulse kicking up.

“prove it, then,” you say, voice steady, daring him now, the car humming under you as the tension snaps. “pull over—somewhere dark. let’s see if your hands match that mouth, or if you’re just another bullshit artist.”

matt’s grin turns feral, eyes flashing as he mutters, “fuckin’ bet,” and swerves the wheel, tires crunching gravel as he peels off the main road, weaving into a shadowed alley, streetlights fading to black. he kills the engine, twists around, one arm slung over the seat, staring at you like you’re prey. “backseat now. let’s see how bad you need this.”

you climb over, dress hiking up your thighs, and he’s on you fast, the door slamming shut as he shoves you down across the seat, one hand yanking your straps down, baring your tits to the cool air. “shit, look at these, he didn’t deserve ‘em,” he growls, mouth crashing onto one, teeth grazing your nipple, making you gasp, arching up against him.

his other hand’s already between your legs, shoving your panties aside, fingers plunging in—two, rough, curling deep, pumping fast until you’re soaked, the wet squelch loud in the tight space.

“fuck, you’re so wet already,” he laughs, voice dark and mocking, “this what you wanted all night, huh? not some dickhead too busy flexin’ to fuck you right?”

you moan, loud and needy, grabbing his hair, pulling him up, his lips hovering over yours, breath hot and ragged. “shut up and use that tongue,” your panting making him grin as he dove down, flattening it against your cunt—broad, sloppy licks, sucking your clit hard, your thighs shaking, trapping his head.

“ohhh shit!” you cry, hips bucking, and he groans, “fuck yeah, scream f’me, let me gove you what that loser couldn’t,” voice muffled as he eats you out, relentless, tongue flicking fast, then slow, dragging you to the edge, your nails clawing at the seat desperately.

he pulls back, smirking, wiping his chin, “told ya—hands next,” and flips you over, face down, ass up, yanking your hips back, spreading your legs wider.

he’s behind you now—jeans shoved down, cock out, thick and dripping—rubbing it against your slit, teasing, making you whine, “c’mon, fuck me already.”

“needy little thing,” he mutters, all smug and hot, then thrusts in—hard, deep, bottoming out until you yelp, walls clenching tight. “fuck, y’feel so good,” he groans, setting a brutal pace that felt fast, sloppy, the car rocking with every slam, windows fogging as you moan, loud and wrecked.

his hands grip your ass, spreading you, one thumb circling your rim, teasing, not pushing, “y’like that? dirty girl, bet andrew never even tried,” and you laugh, breathless, “he wouldn’t dare... keep goin’.”

he does—fucking you savage, one hand sliding up, pinching your nipple ‘til you hiss, the other rubbing your clit, sloppy and fast, ‘til you’re screaming, “matt, fuck, m’gonna cum!” and you do, soaking his hand, his cock, the seat, looking like a shaking, sobbing mess.

he’s not far, groaning against your ear “you’re so tight, babe. m’cummin’,” and pulls out, jerking fast, painting your ass with hot, thick spurts, panting,

“you’re better than any date.” you slump, breathless, dress torn, thighs slick, and he lets a low, cynical laugh.

“told ya my hands don’t lie. your tinder guys got nothin’ on this.”

© eclipsturns 's all rights deserved !ㅤ ꕀ ⠀⠀𔘓⠀⠀⠀

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒ㅤ: ㅤ @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @hazedsturns @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @mattchalattee @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolo101 @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @onevison @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @ariestrxsh @chrepsi

[enigmaris]

Red Hood held out his now uncovered hand as if to ask for a hand shake. Danny floated a bit closer and reached out with his own gloved finger. He poked into the back of the guy’s hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Dude, what if you’re contagious?”

“Can ghosts get sick?” Nightwing asked.

“There are ghost diseases, yeah.” Danny answered, still poking at Red Hood’s hand. “No ghost antibiotics, though. You just have to tough it out.”

“Is that what I have?”

“No.” Danny said. “You have something easier to fix.”

Danny floated back so that he was eye level with the two taller heroes. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at Red Hood.

“So, like. Is there a private place we could chat?”

“Private?” Nightwing asked. “Why? It isn’t fatal, is it?”

“Uh no? It's just personal. What’s it called Hippo? The doctor thing.”

“Are you talking about HIPAA?” Red Hood asked, sounding confused.

“That’s it!” Danny snapped a finger and pointed at Red Hood. “It’s personal medical info. We are on a rooftop in the middle of the biggest city I’ve ever been in. Do you want to go somewhere private?”

“I uh... No, here is fine.”

"Okay.” Danny said. “Cool then. So, these Lazarus Pits? I’ve never seen one, but I have heard of them from other older ghosts. Except we don’t call them that. They’re relatively common in the zone, but the locations are secret, you have to know someone who knows someone ya know?”

“Well, what are they?”

“Distilleries.”

“What?” Red Hood managed to look absolutely flabbergasted even with the full faced motorcycle helmet covering his head.

“Ghosts can’t eat human food, right? I mean we can, but we don’t taste anything. We don’t have the physical parts to digest human food and enjoy it like we did when we were alive.” Danny explained. “It’s the same thing for things like alcohol and drugs and things. So, a lot of adult ghosts still want to get drunk even though they’re dead. I died before 21 so I wouldn’t know, but like, there’s a desire for it.”

“What does this have to do with the Lazarus Pits?”

"Well, in order to make something we can taste, it has to be made with ectoplasm. Alcohol is not as easy to make as other stuff for ghosts. Alcohol is made using fermentation, right? Well ectoplasm doesn’t really. Do that. I mean ectoplasm is either inert or charged with emotional energy, if it gets charged enough it will form a ghost or spirit or something. It’s basically impossible to like, make ectoplasm ferment without risking your alcohol becoming the ghost of wines past.” Danny said, throwing a joke on the end there. Nightwing gave him a smile while Red Hood managed to glare at him through the full red facemask.

“There are ghosts who have figured out how to force ectoplasm to ferment. They basically invented ghost yeast, a sourdough starter of horror if you will. It takes centuries for ectoplasm to get good enough to be considered drinkable alcohol. So, what an enterprising barkeeping ghost will do is find like, an abandoned cave or something, fill it with ectoplasm dump the ghost yeast in there and leave it alone for like a thousand years to ripen. Then they’ll come back, bottle it up and sell it in the zone.” Danny continued.

"Are you telling me Red Hood is ghost drunk?” Nightwing asked.

“I’m saying he has a yeast infection.”

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part six)

warnings ; oral (f recieving), handjob kinda, lowkey breeding kink at one point, unprotected sex (18+)

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; wow!!!! part 6… the final part :( guys i am SO sad about this. this is my first series for a bts member and the community that you guys have formed in my comments, all your love and feedback, mean the WORLD to me. thank you so much <3 with that being said, please enjoy this chapter, it was so fun to write. psa! under the taglist is a surprise.. my inbox is open ;)

playlist here

series masterlist here

There’s no official conversation about it, no moment where you decide, Yes, I’m going to spend every waking hour at Jungkook’s house, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he heals.

It just… happens.

And he lets it happen.

Because somewhere between making sure he eats, fluffing his pillows, sitting beside him on the couch as he watches races he’s too injured to compete in, somewhere between all of that, something shifts.

It’s in the small things. Things that should feel normal, should feel harmless, but don’t.

Like the way you absentmindedly fix his hair, your fingers running through the messy strands without a second thought.

It happens the first time when you’re both sitting on the couch, him scrolling through his phone, you flipping through a book. His hair is falling into his eyes, and without thinking, you reach over, brushing it back, smoothing it down with gentle fingers.

Your hand lingers for a second too long, fingertips brushing the warmth of his skin before you realize what you’re doing.

Your eyes widen, pulling back quickly. “Oh. Sorry.”

But Jungkook just stares at you, his lips twitching slightly, before he hums.

“Nah.” His voice is low, unreadable, and thens softer: “I liked it.”

Damn him. Because that’s when it starts, like a landslide that was long overdue.

Then, there’s the hand thing.

Apparently, Jungkook has developed a habit of grabbing your hand whenever you walk by him. The first time, you think it’s an accident. The second time, it’s not.

You’re walking past the couch, heading toward the kitchen, and suddenly, warm fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging lightly. You stumble slightly, glancing down at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

Jungkook just shrugs, gaze too casual, too innocent.

“Dunno.” His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist, barely noticeable, but you notice. “Just wanted you closer for a second.”

You swallow hard, the warmth of his skin buzzing against yours, and then you can’t remember why you were going to the kitchen in the first place.

There’s also the way he watches you when you cook.

It starts with little things, like him sitting on the counter, swinging his legs like a child, stealing pieces of whatever you’re chopping.

Then it turns into something else entirely.

One night, you’re standing in his kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, and you feel it. The weight of his gaze. You turn slightly, meeting his eyes across the kitchen island, and your heart is in your throat.

Jungkook isn’t just watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon, like he’s never seen anything—anyone—more captivating.

You try to play it off, clearing your throat. “Why are you staring at me?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Because you’re cute when you cook,” he says simply.

Your hands fumble on the spoon, nearly dropping it into the pot. You glare. “Shut up.”

Jungkook laughs in response, soft and warm.

Despite your best efforts, despite the walls you’ve built and the sharp edges you’ve wielded like armor, you feel it. The way your pulse stumbles every time Jungkook looks at you like that. The way your mind stops moving when he leans in too close, his voice curling around your spine like smoke. The way your hands clench into fists, desperate to feign control when all you want to do is give in. And really, there’s no denying anything after the moment that shatters your last defense.

You’re half-asleep, stumbling into the kitchen early in the morning, yawning and stretching as you open the fridge. You’re not thinking, noteven remotely aware, until you hear, “Baby.”

Your blood runs cold. You turn slowly, only to find Jungkook sitting at the kitchen table, completely still, eyes locked onto you like you just did something illegal. And that’s when you realize you are wearing his hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. His favorite hoodie.

Oversized, drowning you in fabric, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing against the middle of your thighs. It was the first thing you found in the dark of his room yesterday as you were going to bed.

Your face erupts in flames. “I—”

Jungkook just leans back, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, eyes dark and unreadable. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.

You squeak, turn around, pretending to be extremely invested in the contents of the fridge, because you are not equipped to deal with this right now. Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head as he sips his coffee.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The movie is playing, yet neither of you are watching.

The volume is low, voices murmuring from the screen, but the real story—the real gravity of the moment—is here, on the couch. Jungkook is stretched out, his head resting in your lap, his body completely at ease beneath your touch. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady, like he could drift off at any second. Your fingers are in his hair, lightly threading through the dark strands, brushing against his scalp in soft, lazy motions. You’re not even thinking about it.

It’s automatic now—something so natural, so easy, that it barely registers.

"You like taking care of me, huh?" His voice is low, teasing, and you feel it vibrate against your thigh where he’s resting.

Your fingers freeze mid-motion. You scoff, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

"You wish," you mutter.

Jungkook grins, his eyes still closed, completely unfazed by your weak attempt at denial.

"You do," he hums, tilting his head slightly. "I can feel it in your hands."

Your fingers are still in his hair, but now they’re trembling slightly. His smirk grows, but he doesn’t push further. Instead, he sighs, stretching slightly against the couch.

"You should be working," he muses. "Not playing house with me."

You huff, finally snapping out of it, rolling your eyes. "You’re making it sound like I’m skipping work entirely."

"You’re here a lot."

You pause.

He’s not wrong.

You’ve been here every day since the hospital. And the thing is, it hasn’t even felt like an inconvenience. It’s just where you want to be.

Still, you try to play it off.

"I’m still working," you insist. "I answer emails, take calls. Plus, Jisoo’s been covering a lot of my work. It’s fine."

Jungkook hums, like he’s not fully convinced. "You should quit and take care of me full-time."

You snort, flicking his forehead lightly. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Becoming Jeon Jungkook’s personal assistant."

"You already do everything for me anyway," he murmurs, voice dropping slightly. "Might as well make it official."

You roll your eyes. "Shut up and watch the movie."

But Jungkook doesn’t watch the movie.

In fact, he opens his eyes and his gaze finds yours, deep, dark. His smirk fades, his expression softening just slightly, like something unspoken is hanging between you both.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you realize you’re still touching him, still stroking his hair, still so close.

Jungkook notices it, too. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, and your eyes catch on the silver ring piercing through the skin.

Your stomach flips. Your heart pounds. And before you can stop yourself, you lean down and kiss him.

The moment your lips meet, Jungkook goes completely still. For a second, you think you’ve ruined everything. For a second, you panic, about to pull away, and then Jungkook reaches up, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, and pulls you deeper.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, filled with everything you’ve both been holding back since the hospital.

It’s soft at first, like you’re memorizing the way he feels, the way his lips move against yours. Jungkook sighs into your mouth, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin, and it’s hungrier, needy, dangerous in the way it completely ruins you.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, the sensation sending shivers down your spine, and Jungkook must noticebecause he groans softly, pressing closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. All you know is neither of you want to let go.

When you finally pull away, breathless, wide-eyed, Jungkook’s gaze is locked onto yours, his lips still parted, swollen, pink, wrecked.

"Shit," he breathes, chest rising and falling too fast.

You don’t know what to do. Your pulse is a war drum, relentless and deafening, each beat crashing against your ribs like a tidal wave. The world around you blurs, drowned out by the rush of blood roaring in your ears like the aftershock of something unstoppable, something you can’t take back. and you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the realization that you just did that. You kissed him first.

Jungkook: your friend, your maybe-something-more.

He just stares at you, his lips still parted, still pink and wrecked from your mouth, like he’s trying to figure something out.

His head tilts slightly, his dark eyes tracing every inch of your face, and his voice comes out soft, teasing, but careful. “Did you just kiss me because you feel bad for me?"

You blink, stiffening, “Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s lips twitch, and you immediately recognize the mischief forming in his expression.

"I mean," he hums, stretching slightly, lazy and smug, "I am injured. It’s possible you’re just doing a good deed, you know? Kissing the wounded, lifting morale—"

Your face erupts in flames. “Jungkook," you hiss, shoving at his shoulder.

He laughs, tilting his head back against the couch, completely unbothered, and you want to die.

You bury your face in your hands. "Oh my God."

"Don’t be shy now," he grins. "You started it."

You groan. Technically, he’s right. You did start it. You kissed him. And even worse? You don’t regret it, not even a little bit.

Still, you struggle to recover, clearing your throat as you attempt to calm the wildfire spreading through your chest.

"When do you stop being annoying?” you mutter, shaking your head.

"Never."

You glare, but your face is still burning, and you know he can see it.

His grin softens, the teasing flickering into something warmer.”So, what is it then? Why’d you kiss me?"

Your stomach twists, a knot pulled too tight, unraveling something you can’t control. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrays you. And for once, you have no words, because the truth is, you don’t know when this happened. You don’t know how it happened.

All you know is that it did. Somewhere between the stolen glances and the sharp-edged banter, between the push and pull, the lines blurred. And now it feels like the ground beneath you is cracking, like the world you built so carefully is crumbling at his feet.

All you know is that Jungkook is in every part of your day now. That he’s the first person you think about when something funny happens at work. That you check your phone more times than you should, waiting for his name to pop up. That being around him feels easy, but missing him feels unbearable.

So when you finally speak, the words fall out of you before you can stop them. “I don’t know when I started needing you in my life this bad."

Jungkook stills completely, his expression flickering, his eyes searching yours.

Silence. Hanging between you like a thread stretched too thin. Your chest is rising and falling too fast, your heart pounding so loudly it’s all you can hear.

He’s just staring at you, like you just said something that knocked the breath out of him.

You panic. Because what the hell did you just say?

"Oh my God," you blurt, words tumbling out too fast, your brain unable to stop your mouth from running. "I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like that—not in a weird way. I just— I don’t know when it happened, okay? I wasn’t planning on it, it just—God, I don’t even know why I’m talking so much right now, I just—"

Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He’s just watching you with that stupidly fond, breathtaking expression, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I mean—shit." You run a hand through your hair, completely spiraling now. "I don’t know when it happened, okay? I don’t know when I— when I started wanting to be around you all the time, when I started waiting for your texts, when I started feeling weird about you hanging out with other girls. I don’t even know why I agreed to go on that stupid date because the whole time, I was thinking about you—"

Jungkook’s grin stretches wider. You don’t see it, too caught up in your spiral.

"And I know you’re bad for me," you continue, voice rising. "I know you’re reckless and impulsive and you drive too fast and hang out with models who have legs for days, and I don’t—I don’t do that. I don’t do guys like you. I’ve never done guys like you—"

Jungkook just hums, tilting his head. "Like me?"

You groan, exasperated, flustered, absolutely losing it. “Yes! Like you! Stupid race car drivers with tattoos and piercings and, and who flirt with me when I’m trying to eat cheese!"

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You want the ground to swallow you entirely. Your entire body is on fire.

"Forget it," you say immediately, shaking your head, embarrassment consuming you whole. "I’m leaving—"

But before you can even attempt an escape, Jungkook moves, sits up, grabs your wrists, pulls your hands away from your burning face.

Then he grins, sowide, so sudden, it could split his face in half. “You want to leave?"

You groan, immediately hiding your face in your hands. "No."

Jungkook laughs, a low, delighted sound that hits you like a slow-moving car crash.

"Baby," he murmurs, soft, warm fingers cupping your face, tilting your chin up until you have no choice but to look at him.

It’s ridiculous, really. One stupid word, rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, turns your spine to jelly and your brain to static. Baby. Soft, easy, like he doesn’t even think twice about it, while you’re over here barely holding onto the last functioning brain cell you have left. Every time he says it, warmth floods your veins like a slow burn, creeping up your neck, curling into your chest, making your knees feel just a little too weak for comfort.

It’s infuriating. Unfair.

And if he doesn’t stop soon—if he doesn’t quit with that lazy smirk and the way he drawls it out like he knows exactly what he’s doing—you’re going to collapse right here, dignity be damned.

His eyes are burning into yours, intense, overwhelming, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

He kisses you. But this time it’s different. No hesitation from either of you, no fear, no holding back anything anymore.

It’s slow, deep, and sure, the kind of kiss that takes its time, the kind that says you have me, you’ve always had me, I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.

And when he finally pulls away, when his forehead rests against yours, when his thumb brushes over your cheek like he never wants to stop touching you, he smiles.

“I’m crazy about you." He murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You exhale sharply.

"Since the first day I met you in that stupid VIP box."

You pull back slightly, blinking. "What?"

Jungkook grins, his fingers still cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. “I was pretty much a goner for you the moment you ignored me."

Your lips part, heart skipping a beat.

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "You were standing there in your little corporate suit, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese. And I—" He exhales, tilting his head, eyes scanning your face like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. "I was hooked. Right there."

You just stare at him. He’s dead serious. He’s not teasing, not flirting just to get a reaction.

"You…" You swallow. "You were really into me back then? It wasn’t some plot to get in my pants?"

Jungkook scoffs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Baby," he murmurs, voice low, smooth, his hands still holding your face like he’s afraid you’ll run if he lets go. “I’ve been obsessed with you since day one."

You thought you were in control. You thought you could keep this contained, keep whatever this thing was locked behind a confinement in your brain, something you could observe from a safe distance without ever letting it touch you. But you were wrong.

Somewhere along the way, he seeped into the cracks. Slowly, insidiously, until there wasn’t a single part of your life untouched by him. He was in the way your mind wandered at the worst possible times, in the way your pulse quickened at the mere mention of his name. He was in the spaces between your thoughts, lingering like an unfinished sentence, a song you couldn’t stop humming.

Maybe, just maybe, you denied yourself because you thought you didn’t deserve it. Because somewhere deep down, you convinced yourself that happiness wasn’t meant for people like you—people who built their lives on control and ambition, who never asked for more than what they could handle.

But now, sitting here, with the weight of everything crashing down on you, you realize the truth.

This is so much bigger than you ever let yourself see.

And you think you’ve been obsessed with him, too. For a very, very long time.

The words settle between you, heavy and certain, like they belong there, like they’ve always belonged there. You swallow hard, eyes flickering down to where his thumb brushes slow circles against your cheekbone.

"You—" Your voice is barely above a whisper, the syllable trembling in your throat. "You have not."

Jungkook huffs a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think I’m lying?"

You nod, because what else can you do?

Jungkook is Jungkook. Gold medals, renowned driver, flashing lights, fangirls screaming his name. You are none of that.

Jungkook watches you for a beat. Then another. Then he leans in again, his nose brushing against yours, his lips just barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

"You really have no idea," he murmurs, voice like gravel and honey, "how deep I’m in this, do you?"

Your pulse jumps, your fingers tightening slightly against his sleeves. “I—"

But your voice dies in your throat as he closes the distance again.

Another kiss. Completely consuming you. This one rougher, hungrier. Like something inside him snapped, like holding back isn’t an option anymore. His hands find your waist, grip tightening like he needs to feel every inch of you against him.

You fall into it, into him, clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his skin, because this time it isn’t just heat. It’s need. A craving neither of you know how to control.

You make a small, startled noise against his mouth, and Jungkook groans softly, deepening it, his fingers slipping into your hair like he never wants to let you go.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin, the way he kisses you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s claiming you, piece by piece, second by second.

And between kisses and shared breaths, he murmurs, “You were the first girl to ever make me feel something real.”

A soft press of his lips.

"And I wanted to ruin you for it."

A deeper, slower kiss, leaving you lightheaded.

"You were so shy, so put together,” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "and I wanted to see what you’d look like completely wrecked for me."

Your breath shudders, your entire body buzzing, warm, overwhelmed. Jungkook just smirks, because he can feel the way your heart is pounding against his own.

"Too much?" he teases, voice low.

You shake your head quickly, embarrassingly eager. "No."

His smirk grows, but his eyes are so, so soft.

"You don’t have to be shy with me, baby," he murmurs, pressing another slow, lazy kiss against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

You whimper, gripping onto his shirt as he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper.

And between another breathless kiss, you whisper, “I don’t know what to do with you."

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, his thumb still stroking over your lip, his touch featherlight but devastating. The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement flickering in his eyes at your quiet confession.

"You don’t know what to do with me?" he echoes, his voice low, rough with something dangerous. His other hand slides down your waist, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. "That’s okay, baby."

His lips brush yours again, just barely, a teasing ghost of a kiss. “I know exactly what to do with you."

Your breath stutters, your fingers clenching against his shoulders as he tilts his head, his lips skimming along your jaw, down to your throat. His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make your knees weaken.

"You’re so sweet," he murmurs, his voice a silken taunt against your skin. His hand drifts lower, over the fabric of your shorts, his touch possessive. "So innocent.”

His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your face back toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his expression drenched in something dark, something hungry.

"But not with me," he whispers, his breath hot against your lips. "With me, you’re gonna let go, aren’t you?"

Your pulse pounds, your chest tightens, the heat in his stare making it impossible to breathe. You can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel.

His smirk deepens, his grip tightening just slightly as he speaks softly, “You wanna know what to do with me, baby?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his next words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you."

You don’t know what to do. Your mind is still a mess, still overwhelmed by all of this—the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body, the way he kisses you like he never wants to stop.

You pull away from him, cheeks burning, lips flushed, “I don’t want to—"

"Hurt me?" he finishes, amused.

You nod, because of course that’s what you mean. He was just in a car crash, for God’s sake.

But Jungkook just hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your jawline, his hands tracing soothing circles over your waist. “You’re cute when you worry about me."

You huff, but your fingers tighten slightly against his shirt. “I mean it, Jungkook."

"And I mean it too," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck for a second before pulling back to meet your gaze again.

His expression shifts, turns serious, tender, something so unlike his usual teasing self that it makes your chest ache. “I’m fine."

You blink, hesitant. “You’re sure?"

Jungkook smirks, before suddenly, his hands grip your waist firmly, and you barely have time to react before he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your thighs now straddling either side of him.

Jungkook just grins, watching your reaction closely, his grip on your hips tight, warm, steady.

"See?" His voice is low, playful, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Totally fine."

You’re still too stunned to respond, completely frozen in his hold, hyper-aware of every inch of him beneath you.

"Though…" He tilts his head, pretending to think. "I might have been playing it up a little."

Your brows furrow, breath still uneven. “Playing what up?"

Jungkook’s hands slide down to your thighs, fingertips teasing the bare skin just beneath your shorts, and you shiver.

"My injuries," he admits, smirking. "Just a little."

Your jaw drops. “Jungkook—"

"I mean, come on," he laughs, completely unbothered by your glare. "Do you know how nice it’s been? You taking care of me? Fussing over me? Cooking for me? Sleeping in my apartment?"

Your stomach flips. “You— you lied?"

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. "Only a little."

Before you can respond, Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips again, pulling you closer.

Your irritation melts into something else entirely. The second you shift against him, you feel it. The undeniable truth that he’s wanted you for so long, for so, so long, and now you’re finally here, finally his.

"Baby," he murmurs, softer now, his voice dipping into something more real.

You swallow hard. "What?"

His eyes search yours, tracing every detail of your face, like he’s memorizing you, like he can’t believe you’re really here straddling him.

"You have no idea," he breathes, "how bad I want you."

Your heart stops in its tracks. Because neither did you—or well, you had convinced yourself you were delusional. Not until now. Not until this moment, until the weight of him beneath you, until the soft press of his hands against your skin, until the way he looks at you like you’re something out of a dream.

You don’t know what to do with that. So instead, you do the only thing you can.

You kiss him again. This time, you let yourself feel it all.

It’s overwhelming the way he wants you. You’ve never been wanted like this before. Never been touched like you’re precious and ruined all at once. And the way Jungkook holds you—fingers digging into your hips, lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, breath uneven as he tries to keep himself together—it’s undoing you completely. Because he’s not just any man. He’s Jeon Jungkook: reckless, untouchable, the best in the game, the kind of guy people worship from a distance. But right now, he’s under you, beneath you, pulling you in like he’s afraid to let go. Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you. The thought of that, of him, the man who could have anyone, losing himself for you, it’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s something you never saw coming, but now you don’t know how to live without it.

You’re melting like putty in his hands, soft and pliant, your body responding to every single touch, every lingering press of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck, baby."

His voice is low, wrecked, like he’s losing control, like you’re unraveling him piece by piece. He’s always so composed, always the one with the upper hand, cocky, teasing, untouchable.

Now, he’s desperate. Now, he’s pulling you closer, his kisses getting deeper, slower, messier, his need for you spilling into every single movement. Now, he’s breathing your name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You whimper softly, hands sliding into his hair, tugging slightly, just to see what he’ll do, just to hear that soft, low groan rumble in his chest again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his lips moving against yours hungrier now, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been waiting for you.

Jungkook’s hands roam your body like he needs to memorize every inch of you, like he can’t believe you’re real. His fingers trail over your waist, gripping your hips before sliding lower, tugging at the hem of your shorts, his touch both reverent and desperate.

"Fuck,," he rasps again, his lips brushing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, feeling the heat of you, his movements slow, teasing.

And then he feels it.

The dampness pooling between your thighs, the evidence of just how much you want him, how much he’s affecting you without even having to try.

Jungkook lets out a groan, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his fingers tease along the seam of your panties, just barely touching, just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit, baby," he mutters, his hands tightening on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He tilts his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours, pupils blown with something dangerous. “You’re soaked."

Your face burns, your breath catching in your throat, but Jungkook doesn’t let you shy away. His hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you, keeping you right where he wants you, on top of him, right against him, right where you belong.

"All this for me?" His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s something softer beneath it, something almost in awe, like he can’t believe you want him like this.

You nod, biting your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders as he presses you down against him, letting you feel just how hard he is beneath you.

"God, baby," he groans, his head tilting back, his lip ring catching the dim light as his hands slide over your ass, keeping you flush against him. His voice drops even lower, “You already feel so fucking good."

His fingers dip lower, playing with the waistband of your shorts, teasing, waiting. “Can I take these off?" he asks, his voice softer now, more careful.

The way he asks—so patient, so unlike the cocky playboy everyone else knows—makes your heart pound even harder. Because it’s him. Because it’s you. And because right now, there’s nothing in the world except the heat between you and the way his hands are shaking from how bad he wants you.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. The second you give the smallest nod—silent permission, quiet surrender—he moves.

One moment, you’re perched in his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body still trembling from how badly you want him. The next, you’re on your back, legs spread wide over the plush couch, your pajama shorts and underwear long gone, discarded somewhere neither of you care to find.

Jungkook kneels between your thighs, his big hands gripping them, spreading them wider as he settles himself lower, his dark eyes locked onto the sight of your glistening core.

And fuck, he looks wrecked.

His lips part, a quiet, almost awe-struck groan slipping past them as he takes you in, his tattooed fingers tightening around your thighs. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and you realize he looks hungry.

"Baby," he breathes, his voice thick, reverent, dangerous. He leans in, so close you can feel his breath against your slick folds, his nose barely brushing the inside of your thigh as he exhales a slow, shaky breath. "Look at you."

You whimper, your hips shifting instinctively, your body aching for his touch, for anything, but he doesn’t give it to you. Not yet.

Instead, his hands wander, sliding up your thighs, tracing the soft skin with slow, teasing strokes. His fingers spread you apart, just enough to make you squirm, his eyes locked on the way you glisten under the dim glow of the room.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters, almost to himself, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs, inching closer, teasing, torturing.

"Jungkook—" Your voice is a breathless plea, a soft, desperate sound, and his smirk deepens at the way you need him.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his lips hovering right there, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers press into your thighs, grounding you, holding you open for him. "I got you."

And then, without another word, he leans in. His tongue flicks out, the first slow, deliberate lick making your whole body jerk, your breath catching as a strangled moan slips past your lips. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you in place, pinning you down as he devours you, slow and deep and messy

Jungkook is relentless.

The second his tongue continually flicks against you, slow and teasing, a sharp gasp spills from your lips, your fingers flying to his hair on instinct.

He groans, low and deep, like he’s never tasted anything better, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you closer, buries himself between your legs. His tongue moves with purpose, savoring you, teasing you, then faster, filthier.

Your entire body jolts, a choked moan escaping you as you arch off the couch, hands yanking at his hair, but Jungkook doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes harder, tongue working you over, lips sucking, devouring every ounce of wetness you’re giving him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, his voice wrecked, almost feral, his fingers digging into your thighs. "You taste so good. So sweet, so messy for me."

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in sharp, broken pants. No one has ever done this to you before, no one has ever made you feel like this, so completely overwhelmed, so utterly ruined just by their mouth alone.

"J-jungkook,” Your voice is a trembling plea, your fingers trembling in his hair, but he just smirks, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot, making your whole body tremble.

"Too much, baby?" he murmurs, his lips dragging against your skin, but his tone is mocking, almost cruel, because he knows you don’t want him to stop.

His lips wrap around your aching clit, a desperate, filthy pull that makes your legs shake, your back arch, a helpless cry spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, too much, too fast, your vision blurring.

Jungkook moans against you, his hands spreading you wider, holding you there as he drowns in you, his tongue moving sloppier, hungrier, completely insane on the taste of you.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice thick with need, with something bordering on obsession. "Give it to me. Let me taste all of you."

You’re gasping, whimpering, unable to handle how good it feels, how intense it is. His tongue keeps working you over, lips sucking, his groans vibrating against your heat, dragging you through wave after wave of unbearable pleasure. You don’t think you’ll ever recover.

Jungkook can feel it, the way your thighs tremble, the way your body arches, the way your breath stutters like you’re teetering on the edge, right there, so fucking close. But he’s not done with you yet.

"Can’t get enough of you," he murmurs against your heat, his tongue flicking one last time before his lips part and, without warning, he slides two fingers in.

Your gasp is sharp, your body clenching around him immediately, and Jungkook groans, his fingers sinking deep, stretching you open as he feels just how tight, how warm you are.

"Fuck," he hisses, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh, his fingers stilling for just a second as his other hand grips your waist, holding you down. "So fucking tight."

You whimper, your hands flying to grip at the couch, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he starts to move, slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. You look down at him, watch the way his dark hair falls over his face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

He curls upwards, and you’re certain he’ll have to peel you off his couch tomorrow morning.

"Oh!” The sound escapes you before you can stop it, your body spasming, heat flooding your veins as he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

Jungkook fucking smirks like the little devil he is. And you knew he’d be good, knew he’d be more experienced than you, but you don’t even care as long as he doesn’t stop.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. His fingers work into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit, and you’re losing it, your legs shaking so bad you think you might collapse in on yourself.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he coaxes, his breath hot against your core, his lips right there, teasing, pressing soft, fleeting kisses against your swollen heat between every filthy thrust of his fingers.

You’re barely holding on, your mind spinning, the pleasure too much, but the way he talks to you, the way he touchesyou, the way his fingers move with such perfect precision, has you losing all control.

"I— I can’t, fuck, feels so good—" Your voice is wrecked, barely a whisper, your body fighting between holding on and letting go.

"Yes, you can," Jungkook growls, his pace relentless now, his fingers fucking into you with deep, slick strokes, his thumb rubbing your clit faster, harder. "Be good for me, baby."

He presses his lips to you again, tongue flicking in perfect sync with his fingers, sucking hard, and you break. A choked, helpless cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp, so intense, your entire body locking up before you’re shaking, your release hitting you like a tidal wave.

Jungkook moans against you, his fingers not stopping, working you through it, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body as you come undone beneath him.

Your chest heaves, your fingers weakly clutching at the couch, your skin burning as the aftershocks pulse through you. You can’t even think, can’t even process how good it feels, your whole body humming with warmth, satisfaction, something that makes you dizzy.

And then, Jungkook looks up at you.

His eyes are wild, his lips wet and swollen, his jaw tight as he drinks you in, your blissed-out expression, your shaky limbs, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

"Good?" he teases, his voice thick with pride, with something darker beneath it. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, watching the way you squirm, the way your cheeks burn as you try to look away.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your chin, tilting your flushed face toward his, his fingers still teasing you as he whispers, “Bet it feels even better to be inside you."

He stays between your spread legs, watching you like he owns you, like he’s still memorizing the way you look right now, completely spent, your body stretched out along the couch, your chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of what he just did to you.

With a low, deep exhale, he finally sits back on his knees, his hands moving to the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down in one smooth motion. His cock springs free, hard and aching, tip flushed and leaking, the very picture of desperation.

You swallow, your throat dry, your lips parting slightly as your wide eyes take him in. Jungkook doesn’t miss it.

"Like what you see, baby?" he murmurs, amusement flickering in his dark gaze as he wraps his tattooed fingers around himself, giving a few slow, deliberate strokes. A shiver runs down his spine, his head tipping back slightly, his breath coming out in a low groan.

Fuck, he’s mesmerizing. The way his muscles flex, the way his chest tightens, the way his lip ring glints as he bites down on his bottom lip. You can’t look away.

And maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze still clouding your mind, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so desperate to make it up to him, but before you can stop yourself, your voice comes out, soft and shy, “I can do it."

His eyes snap to yours, his hand stilling around his length as his breath catches, like he can’t believe you just said that, like he wasn’t expecting it from you.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" he asks, voice lower, rougher.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip, heat crawling up your neck as you shift to sit up slightly, your fingers hesitating in your lap before reaching for him.

Jungkook doesn’t make you wait.

He stands up, takes your wrist, guiding you, wrapping your soft fingers around his cock, sucking in a sharp breath the second you touch him.

"Fuck,” he groans, his head falling forward, his hand tightening over yours as he helps you set a rhythm, slow at first, letting you feel him.

You swallow, watching his expression, watching the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Just like that, baby," he rasps, his voice strained, almost pained from how good it feels. His hand falls away, letting you take over, his head trained on your movements, his lips parting in a moan.

"Shit, you’re so good," he praises, his voice breathless. His fingers dig into his thighs, his stomach tightening as he watches you, his eyes burning in a way that makes your whole body shiver.

"Thought you were so innocent," he murmurs, his voice laced with something almost in awe, his breath coming out in sharp exhales as you continue stroking him, learning him. "And yet, you wanna take care of me like this?"

You nod, your fingers tightening slightly around him. Jungkook groans, his hand flying to your wrist, stilling you for a moment as he pants, “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me."

Your soft hands wrapped around him, your shy little glances up at him, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to please him—he’s never been this affected by anyone before. But he needs more.

With a sharp inhale, he stills your movements, his tattooed fingers wrapping around your wrist, gently pulling you away before he does something reckless like cum in your hand instead of inside you.

"Come here," he rasps, his voice rough, wrecked, his hands guiding you back down against the couch.

Your breath stutters, your body trembling as he hovers over you, his broad frame towering above you, his toned arms caging you in. His dark eyes flicker down, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your thighs part instinctively, welcoming him closer.

"You want to?" he murmurs, his voice softer now, more careful but beneath it, there’s still that same hunger and desperation.

You nod, a shiver running through you as you feel the thick, heavy weight of his cock drag through your folds, teasing, spreading your wetness as he positions himself at your entrance.

When he finally, achingly, pushes in, the first inch has you screaming. Your back arches off the couch, your fingers flying to grip his biceps, nails digging into the solid muscle as your body stretches around him, struggling to accommodate his size. “F-fuck, Jungkook!”

Jungkook groans, his head dropping forward, as he feels you, so tight, so warm, your walls squeezing him like you’re not used to this, like you’ve never taken anything like him before.

"Shit,” he grits out, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place as he forces himself to stop, his own body trembling from the sheer restraint it takes to keep from slamming into you.

"You’re—" His breath is uneven, his jaw clenching as he forces himself to be still. "You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Your thighs tremble beneath him, your hands clawing at his arms, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intense the stretch is, from how full you feel.

"Jungkook,” Your voice is helpless, your chest heaving as you try to adjust, try to take him, but it’s too much, too big, your walls clenching around him so hard he nearly loses it.

"Fuck, I—" He stops, his body shaking as he hovers over you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. "I gotta—fuck, I gotta give you a second, or I’m gonna cum right now."

Jungkook has had experience, more than enough. He’s been wanted, worshiped, pulled into the heat of fleeting moments by women who knew exactly what they were doing. He’s kissed with confidence, touched with certainty, learned every unspoken language of desire and indulgence. He’s seen it all, had it all, lived it all. It’s stupid, really, how easily you unravel him, how the years of experience amount to nothing under the weight of this. Of you.

Your body pulses, your breath coming out in short, desperate whimpers as you struggle to breathe through it, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

Jungkook stares down at you, his expression torn between awe and agony, his cock twitching inside you, begging him to move, but he can’t, not yet.

"Baby,” His voice is strained, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face, his lips pressing against your forehead, trying to soothe you. "Breathe. Let me in, just a little more."

You nod, your body shuddering beneath him, your walls still fluttering around him, so tight it’s driving him insane.

And when he finally, slowly pushes in deeper, you both break.

The second he feels you start to relax around him, your walls fluttering, adjusting, he loses the last shred of control he had left.

"Fuck, sweetheart," his voice is low, guttural, completely wrecked as he pulls out halfway before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound that escapes you is filthy, a high-pitched, gasping moan, your body jerking beneath him as the force of his thrust sends shockwaves through you.

He sets the pace, relentless, devastating. The wet, slick sounds of him fucking into you echo through the room, mixing with your choked moans, his ragged, heavy breathing. His cock drags against every sensitive part of you, the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the space, so loud it makes your face burn.

"Listen to that, baby," Jungkook groans, his lips hovering over yours, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“So fucking wet for me,” He grinds deeper, pulling another moan from you, "Making a mess all over my cock."

You can barely breathe, barely think, the pleasure so intense it’s turning your limbs weak, your nails clawing helplessly at his arms, his back, anywhere you can hold onto as he ruins you.

"You hear that?" he murmurs, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, angling you just right so he can hit deeper, harder. "That’s all you, baby. That’s this pretty little pussy taking me so well.”

You let out a choked cry, your head tipping back, exposing your throat to him.

"Shit!" he groans, his lips latching onto your neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks he wants you to wear for days. His hand slips between you, fingers pressing against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles.

Your whole body shudders, your walls clenching so tight around him that he hisses, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he pounds into you harder, pushing you right to the edge.

Before either of you can catch your breath, he pulls out suddenly, completely, leaving you empty, a little gasp escaping your lips at the loss. But before you can even process it, he grabs you, his strong hands flipping you over onto your stomach, guiding your knees up, your body instinctively responding to him.

"Nah, baby," he groans, his voice low as he grips your waist, spreading you out beneath him. "Not done with you yet."

His hands drag down your back, fingers teasing along your spine before gripping your hips, tugging you up slightly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions.

He slides back in. The stretch is even deeper like this, his cock sinking in at a new angle that has you screaming into the cushion, your fingers clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook snarls, his head dropping back for a second, the tight heat of you making his entire body shake. "You’re squeezing me so tight.”

His hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to move, his strokes slow, deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him, every ridge, every twitch.

"God, baby, could fuck you all day," he groans, his voice thick with something dangerous, something utterly possessive. His palm slides down, pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down against the couch. "Taking me so fucking well, so perfect for me."

You can barely breathe, your body so wrecked from how deep he is. You swear you feel him in your stomach. You can hear the obscene mix of your slick and his movements, the wet sounds filling the space between his groans and your helpless little sounds.

"Jungkook,” You choke out his name, your voice muffled against the couch, your body shaking with every relentless thrust. “F-feels so good, please k-keep going,”

"Shh, baby," he coos mockingly, his grip tightening as he snaps his hips forward, dragging another high-pitched cry from you. "Let me take care of you."

His free hand grabs your jaw, turning your head slightly so he can watch your face, his other hand still pressing you down, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Too deep?" he taunts, a smirk in his voice, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the way your brows furrow, your lips parting, your body writhing beneath him.

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but your hips still push back into him, still chase the feeling of him splitting you apart.

"That’s my girl," he groans, rewarding you with a rough, slow grind, making sure you feel every second of it. His fingers tighten around your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

His body is trembling, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he slams into you, chasing his release with reckless, desperate thrusts. He’s so close, he can feel it, heat coiling tight in his gut, every nerve in his body burning with the need to let go.

"[Y/N]," he groans, breathless, his fingers digging into your waist as he pounds into you. He’s barely holding on, his control slipping with every second, every pulse of your tight, soaking heat around him.

"Where do you want me to cum, baby?" he grits out, his head dropping forward, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold himself back, to wait for your answer.

And when you give it to him—when you turn your head just slightly, lips parted, voice trembling, breath hitching— “Inside me."

Jungkook snaps. In an instant, he pulls out, his hands gripping your waist as he flips you over, not caring how weak your limbs are, how spent you already look. He needs to see you when he finishes, needs to watch your face, your expression, your body taking it all.

His lips crash against yours, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth as he slides back in, groaning so loud it vibrates through your entire body. His hands grab your thighs, spreading you wide, holding you open for him as he thrusts into you, deep, perfect, his cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you.

"Yeah?” he groans, watching you, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Gonna let me fucking ruin you? God, I’m going to give you kids one day.”

You nod, barely able to speak, your voice coming out as a helpless little beg. "Please.”

Jungkook grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic, and you can feel the way he’s shaking, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking close.

"Can I finish too?" Your voice is so soft, so breathless, so utterly wrecked, and when he looks down, when he sees it—the cream collecting at the base of his cock, the mess of slick covering where you’re both connected, dripping down onto the couch— he’s a goner.

"Yes, baby, fuck, yes. Cum for me,” He babbles out, almost incoherent.

His entire body jolts forward, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release crashes over him, spilling inside you with a helpless groan. His head tips back, his body shaking, his fingers gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

He feels it, the way your walls pulse around him, milking him, pulling everything from him as your own orgasm rips through you, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him. There’s nothing but heat and skin and the dizzying rush of pleasure crashing through you both, stealing the air from your lungs.

The room is filled with the filthiest sounds—his breathless groans, your high-pitched cries, the obscene mix of both your releases between your thighs.

He just stares.

"Damn, baby” his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes blown wide, completely wrecked as he watches his cum spill out of you, seeping from between your legs, making an absolute mess of both of you. “So fucking pretty."

Jungkook eventually collapses next to you, his chest still heaving, his body still thrumming with the aftermath of what you just did to each other. His skin is flushed, damp with sweat, his muscles trembling from the sheer intensity of it all. But the second he catches his breath, the second his brain starts working again, he reaches for you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body, pressing you flush against his overheated skin. His lips find your shoulder first, soft and lingering, before trailing up the curve of your neck, then your jaw, then your lips.

The kiss is slow, tender, so different from the frantic, desperate ones from earlier. This one is filled with something else, something deeper. His fingers smooth over your back, up your spine, soothing you, keeping you close.

"Hmph," he breathes against your mouth, his voice raw, reverent. His hands roam your body, gentle now, no longer gripping, no longer taking, just feeling, holding. "You okay?"

You nod, still trying to find your voice, still floating in the haze of him. Your body is gone, your limbs weak, but with the way he’s touching you now, with the way he’s holding you, you could stay here forever.

Jungkook hums, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your temple. "You were so good for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, his hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. "Took me so well, baby. My perfect girl."

His words make warmth bloom in your chest, your face heating, your fingers instinctively clutching onto him, like you need to hold onto something real.

You melt into him, bury your face into his neck. You smell the scent of him, musky and sweet and familiar.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin, his lips finding your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. His fingers trail up your spine again, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your face up so he can kiss you again. “Don’t even know what you do to me."

You’ve never had a man want you like this before, and you don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else ever again.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next few days pass in a soft blur of stolen moments: whispers exchanged in the quiet of Jungkook’s living room, fingers brushing absentmindedly over each other’s skin, laughter spilling into the air delicately, something fragile but unbreakable.

You’re not dating, not technically. He hasn’t asked, and you haven’t said anything, and yet…

He still grins when you walk into the room, still pulls you into his side when you sit next to him, still leans in just a little too close whenever he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low murmur meant just for you.

You let him tangle his fingers through yours when you’re watching a movie together, let him play with the hem of your sweater when he’s feeling restless, let him kiss you, lazy and unhurried, in the middle of a conversation just because he can.

He’s letting you take your time, giving you the space to ease into this, to figure out what it all means.

God, you appreciate it.

Because with Jungkook, there’s no rushing. No expectations. No pressure.

Even though neither of you have said it yet, you know.

There’s a weight of his upcoming race, his comeback race, that lingers between you, unspoken but heavy, pressing against your chest like a storm waiting to break.

You know what it means to him. How much this race matters. How much winning it would mean for his career, for his legacy.

Yet, you can’t shake the fear coiling deep in your stomach, the memory of his last crash seared into your mind like a scar that refuses to fade. The sound of metal colliding, the gasps from the crowd, the way your entire world had tilted on its axis, throwing you into a free fall of panic and helplessness.

You don’t know if you can do that again.

You don’t know if you can sit in the stands, heart in your throat, watching him push himself to the very edge of danger, knowing that one wrong move could take him from you.

He knows. Even before you say anything, even before you have the chance to voice the tangled mess of emotions inside you, Jungkook notices. You catch him watching you when you think he isn’t, his sharp gaze softening whenever he sees the crease between your brows, the way your fingers absentmindedly fidget with the hem of your sleeve, lost in thought.

And then one night, while you’re curled up next to him on the couch, his voice cuts through the quiet. “You’re not gonna come, are you?"

You hesitate for too long, and that’s answer enough.

Jungkook exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, his jaw tightening for just a second before he looks at you again, eyes searching. Not angry. Not upset. Just… knowing.

"Baby," he says, voice quieter now, like he’s picking apart every thought racing through your head, "Talk to me."

You swallow, staring down at your lap. "I just— I don’t know if I can watch."

He doesn’t speak, waiting.

"Last time…" You inhale sharply, voice barely above a whisper. "Last time, I thought I lost you, Jungkook."

His eyes darken, his features softening in a way that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

"You don’t," you murmur. "You don’t know what that felt like. Watching you crash. Not knowing if you were okay. Having to stand there, completely helpless, while everyone else ran to you."

Jungkook’s jaw flexes, his hands clenching into loose fists before he lets out a slow, measured breath.

"I get why you’re scared," he finally says. "But I need you there. I need you in my corner."

His words send a sharp pang through your chest, and when you glance up, you find him watching you so intently, like he’s trying to anchor you to him, like he’s trying to make you feel how much he means it.

"I know how dangerous it is," he continues, softer now. "I know what you’re afraid of. But I also know that when I look up from that track, and I see you there, nothing else matters. I race better when you’re there. I race smarter when you’re there."

Your throat tightens.

"You’re my good luck charm."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Jungkook reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Please."

And how the hell are you supposed to say no to that?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(pause.. authors note.. turn on ‘the alchemy’ by taylor swift for this part. thank me later.)

The energy is electric, the kind of palpable excitement that sits thick in the air, buzzing through the massive crowd gathered around the track.

Engines roar in the distance, mechanics make last-minute adjustments, reporters weave through the pit area with cameras flashing, and yet, none of it matters.

Because all eyes are on you. Or rather, on Jungkook, and the way he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

The moment he spots you, draped in his jacket, his VIP lanyard with his name hanging around your neck like a permanent claim, something flickers in his expression. Something proud, you think.

Then he’s walking straight toward you, completely ignoring the cameras, the crew, the other drivers waiting for pre-race interviews.

His manager clears his throat. “Uh, you have press, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t even acknowledge it. He just reaches for you, hands settling firmly on your waist, his grip warm, grounding, and before you can even react, he kisses you. Loud. Unapologetic. Completely and utterly certain.

You’re melting into him, hands gripping his racing suit, your heart hammering as his lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to brand you into him before the race even begins.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, a cocky little grin stretching across his face. “You look so fucking good in my jacket. Can’t wait to get home and rip it off you.”

You swallow, dazed, heat blooming across your skin. “You should focus on the race.”

“I am,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “I’m gonna be thinking of you the whole time though.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone, disappearing into the pit area, leaving you completely breathless, your lips tingling, your heart somewhere on the track with him already.

You hear a low whistle behind you.

One of his crew members, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, we’re just gonna start calling you his girlfriend now.”

You stammer. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure,” his manager cuts in, grinning, arms folded across his chest. “And I’m an astronaut.”

Laughter ripples through the pit crew, but before you can come up with some kind of defense, the announcement blares over the loudspeakers.

You’re with his crew, standing in the VIP pit box, his manager beside you, engineers monitoring real-time data, the pit crew ready for anything.

You’re also clutching onto his manager’s arm like your life depends on it.

“Relax,” he mutters, chuckling under his breath. “You survived the last one.”

You exhale sharply. “That was before I knew how dangerous this actually is.”

His manager glances at you. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”

You don’t respond, eyes locked onto the massive screen displaying the race track, the live coverage cutting between Jungkook’s car, the cockpit camera, the overhead shots.

Before you can prepare yourself for the impact, the signal goes off. The engines roar to life. And Jungkook is off.

Your heart jumps into your throat as his car flies forward, cutting into position effortlessly.

He’s fast—you always knew that. But watching him like this, seeing him maneuver through the chaos of the starting lap, weaving between other drivers with a confidence that borders on reckless, it’s something else entirely.

“You know he likes to push aggressive in the first few laps, right?” The voice beside you startles you. His engineer, watching the data on the monitor, tapping his chin in thought.

You nod. Of course you know.

Jungkook’s racing style isn’t just speed. It’s strategy, it’s unpredictability, it’s sheer talent that makes him one of the most feared competitors on the track.

Still, something feels off.

You bite your lip, eyes narrowing at the positioning of the cars ahead. The driver in third place is blocking the inside lane, forcing Jungkook to take a riskier approach.

If he goes outside, he’ll lose too much time.

But if he waits too long, he’ll lose the gap entirely.

You can’t stop yourself. “He’s not gonna make that pass on the outside.”

The engineer raises a brow, surprised.

His manager glances at you, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod, suddenly certain. “He needs to bait him into thinking he’s going wide, then cut inside at the last second. It’s the only way he’s getting past clean.”

The pit crew stares at you like you just grew a second head.

His manager laughs under his breath. “Damn. She really is his girl.”

And then, as if he heard you through the screen, Jungkook makes the move.

The driver in third takes the bait, moving to cover the outside and Jungkook cuts inside, passing clean, just like you said.

You exhale hard, your entire body untensing at once.

“Holy shit,” one of the crew members mutters, blinking at you. “You actually know your stuff.”

But you don’t respond, because you can’t take your eyes off the track, can’t take your eyes off him.

Jungkook is still in it, still pushing, still dominating the race, still looking absolutely unstoppable. For the first time since you got here, since you stepped into his world you finally realize: you’re not just watching anymore. You’re a part of this now.

The final lap feels like an eternity.

Your fingers are clenched so tight around Jungkook’s manager’s arm that you’re sure you’ve cut off circulation, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in shallow bursts as the cars blur past the final turn.

He’s in first place but barely.

The driver behind him is closing in fast, their front wing nearly grazing Jungkook’s rear tire, and it’s too close, too reckless, too much.

Your nails dig into your palms, your legs swaying restlessly. You can’t stand still, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch, helpless and desperate, as he flies toward the finish line.

The crowd is screaming, his crew is yelling stats into the comms, but it’s all just noise, buzzing around the only thing that matters: him.

"Come on, Jungkook," you whisper under your breath, hands tightening around the edge of your jacket. "Come on, come on, come on—"

The checkered flag waves.

The moment his car crosses the finish line, the world tilts, the tension shatters, and your breath finally, finally releases.

You don’t even realize you’re grinning, shaking, nearly collapsing from the sheer relief and overwhelming joy of it all.

The stadium erupts the second Jungkook’s car flies across the finish line.

The sound is deafening—a rush of cheers, of voices screaming his name, of reporters scrambling to capture the moment. Confetti bursts into the air, flickering under the bright stadium lights like a million tiny stars. His pit crew is going wild, throwing their arms up, chanting, celebrating the biggest win of his career.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop for any of it.

He barely lets the car roll to a stop before he’s unbuckling, pulling his helmet off, his eyes already searching.

He sees you.

Standing in the VIP pit area, his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Suddenly, everything else fades.

His team? The cameras? The press waiting to get their headline? None of it matters.

All he can think about is you.

So, he runs. Straight past his team, straight past the cameras, straight past the screaming reporters, straight to you.

Before you can even say congratulations, before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you’re in his arms.

He lifts you clean off your feet, arms tight around your waist, his laugh breathless against your cheek, giddy, boyish, unfiltered joy.

Then he kisses you. Right there, in front of thousands of people. In front of the flashing cameras, in front of the roaring crowd, in front of his crew and the entire racing world. He kisses you like there’s no one else but you and him.

It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s pure feeling, pure adrenaline, pure Jungkook.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, like he couldn’t have gone another second without making sure you knew.

Your fingers clutch at his racing suit, your heart pounding harder than it did during the race itself, your body sinking into his like it was meant to be here, like it’s the only place you’ll ever belong.

Somewhere in the background, you hear the cheers get even louder, hear the reporters frantically calling his name, hear the cameras capturing every second of this moment.

But none of it touches you.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen, his forehead dropping against yours as he grins, bright, wide, unstoppable. “Told you I needed my good luck charm."

You let out a shaky breath, laughing softly, hands still gripping his suit. Still holding onto him like you’re afraid to let go. “Jungkook, that was in front of—"

"All of them?" He grins shamelessly, still so out of breath. "Yeah, I know."

You giggle, pressing your forehead against his chest for a second. "Oh my god."

"What?" His voice is teasing, his fingers toying with the hem of his own jacket wrapped around you. "You didn’t like it?"

You open your mouth, ready to fight him on it, ready to pretend like you weren’t just completely, devastatingly ruined by that kiss but the words don’t come.

Because when you look at him, really look at him, you realize you’re done pretending. Suddenly, it’s not scary anymore. Suddenly, it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You swallow. "So am I your girl now?”

His breath halts, his fingers tighten just slightly on your waist, and for the briefest second, you see it. The relief. The realization. The pure, undeniable certainty that he’s got the girl.

He exhales, grinning so wide it could split his face in half, and tugs you in for another kiss, this time softer, slower, like he’s sealing the moment between just the two of you.

"You always were."

And as the celebrations explode around you, as the cameras flash, as his crew cheers, as Jungkook beams like he just won something even bigger than this race, you know, deep in your chest, in your bones, in every fiber of your being, there is no escaping this man.

You realize something with absolute certainty. This was never just about luck. It was always meant to be him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

extra extra note!

i wanted to thank you all again for reading this story <3 this OC means so much to me. with that being said, i never want to leave you guys hanging, so i’ll be doing 3-4 epilogue drabbles/blurbs based off your guys’ requests (bc it’s no fun if im just doing whatever i please, duhh)

send in some ideas (smut, fluff, even some angst) of what you would want to see as epilogue blurbs and I’ll choose the ones that inspire me :-) click here to send em in!

love you all… catch ya on the next fic <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics

@outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr @tatamicc @seokout @ashslight @avawants2havefun @bjoriis @jjeonjjk7 @mar-lo-pap @parkinglot-nights @coletaehyung @mellyyyyyyx @magicalnachocreator @royalguk

[ari-ana-bel-la]

omg can you write one for Lewis where he makes a special helmet with some of the drawings his daughter has made for him, his helmet ends up having stars rainbows etc

A Helmet full of Art

The moment Lewis became a father, he knew nothing would ever matter more to him than his little girl, Yn. At just three years old, she had already captured his entire heart, filling his life with laughter, tiny hugs, and endless chatter about her favorite things. She was a bright little spark—curious, loving, and always eager to create something new.

And lately, that "something new" had been drawings.

Lewis had first noticed it when Yn would sit at the coffee table, her tiny tongue sticking out in concentration as she held a crayon in her chubby hands, dragging colors across the page with uncontainable enthusiasm. At first, her drawings were just a mix of squiggles and chaotic rainbows, but over time, they started to resemble actual things—flowers, cats, and even an attempt at drawing both of them together.

"Look, Daddy!" she'd exclaim every time she finished. "This one’s you and me!"

And every single time, Lewis' heart melted.

He was the kind of father who supported Yn in anything she wanted to do. If she decided tomorrow that she wanted to be an astronaut, he’d find her a tiny space suit. If she wanted to become a ballerina, he’d be at every recital. So when he saw how much she adored drawing, he went all in—buying her the best colored pencils, sketchbooks, and even a little artist’s apron.

But what he hadn’t expected was how much her drawings would come to mean to him. He kept every single one. The rainbow she had drawn with colors that didn’t quite follow the traditional order. The cat that had oddly shaped whiskers but still looked adorable. The one of them together, with his curly hair drawn way too big and Yn’s little stick-figure self holding his hand. The flowers and bees that she had proudly declared were for him because "you like flowers, Daddy!"

So when the time came for his first home race as a Ferrari driver, Lewis wanted his helmet to be special.

And there was only one thing that felt right.

The paddock was buzzing with anticipation. It was Lewis’ first home race wearing Ferrari red, and everyone knew he’d do something big. But no one expected what he revealed when he stepped into the garage on Friday.

"Alright, guys," Lewis said, grinning as he pulled the cover off his new helmet. "Meet my new favorite helmet ever."

The garage fell silent for a moment. Then—

"Oh my god," Charles breathed out, stepping closer. "Are these… Yn’s drawings?"

Lewis beamed. "Yep."

The helmet was a masterpiece. Instead of his usual bright yellow, it was now a canvas filled with his daughter’s art. Her rainbow stretched across the top, her wobbly cat drawing sat proudly on one side, the flowers and bees covered another part, and right at the back, a big, bold drawing of them together. It was messy, colorful, and absolutely perfect.

"You actually put them on your helmet," Carlos said, grinning. "Man, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen."

"She loves drawing," Lewis explained, running his fingers over the helmet. "And I love everything she makes. I wanted her to be part of this weekend somehow, and this felt right."

Oscar, who had just arrived, let out a low whistle. "This might be the most wholesome thing I’ve ever seen in F1."

Pierre nudged Max. "Admit it, even you think this is cute."

Max rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah, it's cute. Not as cute as my cats, though."

Lando burst out laughing. "I swear, you and your cats—"

"But seriously," George interrupted, shaking his head in admiration. "This is incredible, mate. I bet Yn’s gonna freak out when she sees it."

"She hasn't seen it yet," Lewis admitted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

And oh, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Later that afternoon, after all the practice sessions, Lewis finally had time to call home. He was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, holding his phone in his hands, waiting for the call to connect.

The moment the screen lit up, Yn’s bright little face appeared, her curls bouncing as she gasped.

"Daddy!" she squealed. "Hi hi hi!"

"Hey, baby," Lewis grinned. "I’ve got a surprise for you."

Yn's eyes widened. "A 'prise? For me?"

Lewis laughed, turning his phone camera around to show his helmet. "Look at this, baby. Do you recognize these drawings?"

For a second, there was silence. Then, an excited shriek.

"THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MY DRAWINGS!" Yn shouted, practically bouncing. "Daddy, you put them on your hat!"

"Helmet, baby," Lewis chuckled, his heart swelling at her excitement. "But yeah, I did! Now, when I race this weekend, I’ll have you with me."

Yn clapped her hands together, eyes shining. "I love it! I love it, I love it, I love it!"

On the other side of the call, Yn’s grandmother laughed. "Lewis, you’ve just made her entire year."

"That was the plan," he said, winking.

Yn leaned close to the camera, her tiny hands gripping the screen. "Win with my pictures, Daddy!"

Lewis smiled softly. "I’ll try my best, baby girl. Just for you."

When Lewis walked into the paddock on Saturday with his helmet under his arm, the cameras instantly caught sight of it. And within minutes, social media exploded.

@F1: Lewis Hamilton’s helmet this weekend is covered in his 3-year-old daughter’s drawings, and we’re not crying, you are.

@SkySportsF1: Lewis dedicates his home race helmet to his daughter Yn, featuring her personal artwork. A touching tribute from the seven-time champion.

The media went crazy over it. Every journalist wanted to ask about it, every interview started with the same question:

"Tell us about your helmet this weekend, Lewis."

And every time, Lewis proudly explained.

"Yn loves drawing, and I love everything she makes," he said during a press conference. "I wanted to do something special for my first home race with Ferrari, and there was nothing more special than this. It’s my way of carrying her with me on track."

The fans adored it. In the grandstands, they held up signs with her drawings, and Ferrari even arranged for a little sketchbook to be placed in the garage for Yn to "design" future helmets.

By Sunday, it wasn’t just a helmet—it was a symbol of love.

As Lewis strapped himself into the car, he ran a hand over his helmet one last time.

"For you, baby girl," he murmured.

And then, with the whole world watching, he raced.

He raced with his daughter’s rainbow on his head, with her flowers and bees bringing color to the Ferrari red, with her little cat keeping him company through every turn.

And when he crossed the finish line in P1, the first thing he did after climbing out of the car was point to his helmet.

That night, when he called home again, Yn’s excited squeal nearly burst his eardrums.

"You did it, Daddy! My pictures won!"

Lewis laughed, feeling his heart swell. "Yeah, baby. We did it together."

And as far as he was concerned, that made this the most special win of his career.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[fewwwgoodwomen]

hiiii could u prettyyy pleasssee do sub namgyu hcs??

Sub!Nam-gyu Headcanons !!

(A/N:I've never done hcs before so bear with me !! This is a new concept to me hahah)

-sfw

•Nam-gyu loves physical touch from you even if he hates admitting it.

"Do that thing with my hair again." "Yeah i hate it.. but my head hurts right now." "I didn't say that yesterday."

•Whenever Nam-gyu finishes his stash of drugs, he gets even more clingy towards you.

"I swear.. you ARE better than my drugs..." "No... i didn't finish them.. what makes you think that?"

•Nam-gyu thinks you look hot when you're high with him, especially when you get extra affectionate.

•He loves tucking your hair to the side , mirroring the habit he does to himself, denying it each time.

"Its not my habit, stupid. I just don't want hair all over your face."

•he loves laying on your chest and hugging your waist, especially when hes high.

"No, I'm not high this time. Yes, i do smell like weed, but that's not the point..."

•Would get you matching rings with him.

"I dont fucking hide my hands with my sleeves. Just please get these with me.."

•Mindlessly follows you anywhere.

"Dude, Shut up... I'm not following you... you're just.. who i wanna go to."

•Will never admit that you're right, even when its painfully obvious

"I do not bite my nails, you're thinking of another dude." "No? The lady at the salon fucked it up, it wasn't bitten off."

•He likes playing hard to get even though he'll submit within minutes.

"You miss me? Use your legs and walk to the room then." "What do you mean you won't do it? Lazy ass bitch. Yes I'm walking there. Whatever. Okay okay.. i won't call you that again."

•Disturbs you at random points just to ask you stupid questions

"Psst.. Do you think cats could get high?" "No. Its just, i don't know where my last edible went, and the cat is acting weird."

•Loves it when you kiss his neck

•Has the habit to swear in every sentence, especially when he talks about you.

"You're so fucking weird, like not in a bad way but not in a fucking good way either, you just make me feel shit like-- Shut up, i don't swear THAT fucking much."

-Nsfw

•even though he tries to hold it, hes very vocal and loud

"A-ah.. Fuck. You're so quiet, i-its making me sound loud --mmh~!"

•hates getting edged but loves begging you

"S-stop fucking edging me like this you w-whore.. a-agh~.. please.. just let me cum.."

•loves it when you ride him, especially when you tie him up.

"If youre going to edge me.. a-aah~! Atleast.. tie me up... f-fuck..!"

•he doesn't admit it but he loves it when you spit on him

"S-stop spitting on me.. i-i can't.. its so..f-fuck..~" "N-no, i didn't lick it off my lips."

•his fav place for you to spit on would be his mouth , face or his cock

•He'd be into motorboating your titties

"Please.. fuck.. take off your bra.. just this once.. please..?"

•he jerks off a lot to pictures or videos of you when you aren't there

"Please let me take this photo of you.. i swear im not gonna nut on it or something."

•He likes it when you pull his hair

•He likes acting all bitchy towards you because he knows you'll make him feel so good no matter what.

"S-shut the fuck up.. y-your pussy isn't that tight-- ngh~!"

•hes into overstimulation, anything to make his girl feel good.

•He'd beg you to do one more round even though deep down he can't last the moment he's inside you

"Please.. one more.. I'll fucking do anything... i'll last longer than 5 minutes please please please... i-i want that pussy."

•most of the time its you giving him aftercare and he loves being babied by you.

"Yeah women totally deserve aftercare but you made me cum 7 times. Can you please just do it this once..? No, I didn't ask you that last round."

•would do anything to be able to cum inside you

"Please please please.... let me fucking cum inside you..i swear ill be good.. i wont call you a whore ever again.."

•Likes to film whenever you guys have sex, so he could jerk off to the footage later on.

"No no no.. don't move it.. i like seeing your ass in that angle.." "Shut up. I-its for memories.. and.. you sound hot on video, thats all, i swear!"

•He likes to have you soak up edibles in your mouth just to spit it in his mouth when you guys make out.

"Fuuck.. soak it up just like that and spit it out on my tongue" "Shut up, its not THAT gross."

•He loves getting degraded by you, even though half the time he insults you.

"Y-yeah.. i fucking get i-it... i'm a manwhore.. just for you.. mmh~!"

•Likes putting obscure music when you guys fuck

"Please.. can i play this msi song just once while you ride me..? I-its only 2 minutes.." "What the fuck do you mean the music will last longer than me?"

•A complete weirdo for you, literally a creep.

"Please..? Just consider doing a rainbow kiss with me once?" "Shut the fuck up, you just don't have good taste in fetishes."

•Hates calling you mommy but would do it in a heartbeat whenever hes desperate.

"M-mommy..~! Please let me cum.. fuck.. milk me dry please..~! I-it's aching so bad...please..~" "S-shut up.. just let me cum.. mommy.. please..?"

[meelusinee]

Can you do Lupin Reader x Theodore Nott and he asks her to go out with him, and Harry,Hermione and Ron are like; 'he's an ass and probably thinks it's a joke because your a werewolfs daughter' but Theodore ends up being either the best boyfriend she's ever had or he makes her believe he is,either way you want to do it <3 or you can do it with Mattheo if you want

this prompt was actually such a good prompt that i wrote a fic almost 5k words long and still wanted to keep going. if anyone wants a part two, please do let me know

LOVE ISN'T BLIND | T.N X READER

word count \ 4.7k | fuliffty fluffnut sandwiches | slash / theodore nott / wolfstar daughter!reader

in which your friends think theodore and you aren't a good pair, but you care to disagree

“You’re a good student, Theodore.”

Theodore winced as the words cut through the air like a sharpened knife cutting through a tomato, his fingernails scratching at his skin and trying to find purchase on the scars. “I know.”

“I know that you know,” McGonagall said, a soft chuckle escaping her throat as she spoke. “You’re a very good student, and I know you know that. I know you don’t put in nearly enough effort into your schoolwork,” she continued, her face fading back to its stern expression at the mild wince in Theo’s body. “But I know that you’re a good kid.”

“I know.” Theo said quietly, his voice weaker than when he first said it.

Theodore had a special relationship with Professor McGonagall, especially compared to his other professors. He had found out that his mother and Minerva were close when she was a student in Hogwarts. When McGonagall had first seen Theo in her office hours, she had gifted him a small scrapbook his mother had worked on during her school years.

McGonagall was the first one to really understand how he felt about his mother. If there was anyone he might view as close to a motherly figure as he could, a woman he would go to in order to try and poorly replicate the feeling of what he lost, it would be McGonagall.

Which is why it hurt so much more when McGonagall reprimanded him.

“I’m sure that Mr. Riddle is a good kid as well, I have no doubt about that.” McGonagall sighed quietly, her quill scratching against the parchment she was doodling on while she talked. Theo had found she had a habit of doodling swirls whenever she held serious conversations. “But I need you two to do something.”

Theo sighed quietly and nodded, picking at his fingernails and cuticles. “I don’t know why Mattheo started fighting that guy, Professor.”

“Were you not there?” McGonagall asked him curiously.

Theo shook his head before shrugging. “Not until the end, I pulled him off. Mattheo still won’t tell me why he got into the fight though, so I’m assuming it was something important.”

McGonagall nodded quietly at that before sighing quietly. “You do understand what I’m saying though, correct?” she asked quietly.

Theo nodded at that, still picking at his fingernails. “Yes,” he whispered quietly, before sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. He never quite noticed the taste of tobacco between his teeth until he was in McGonagall’s office. “I’ve been studying in the library more often. For my Charms exam.”

McGonagall smiled a bit brighter at that. “Have you been working on the Mending Charm?”

“I’ve been trying to.” he groaned quietly, deflating as quickly as he sat up straight. Theo had been struggling with the Mending Charm ever since it had been introduced into the class. While he wanted to master it as soon as he had been introduced to it, he had only been able to mend things like torn paper or a barely cracked rock. “I don’t understand why I can’t mend things the way most people can. I mean, I can do small things. But not big things.”

McGonagall chuckled at that, the soft smile he had grown comfortable with coming onto her face. “Do you think you need a tutor?” she asked amusedly.

“A tutor?” Theo asked, though not in a rude way. Just curious.

McGonagall nodded, a small smirk growing on her face. “I have a student who’s really good with those kinds of charms. She might be able to help you with your Reparo.”

Theo narrowed his eyebrows a bit, noting the smirk on McGonagall’s face. She almost never got that smirk on her face, the last time he had seen it on her face was when he had learned that Dumbledore encouraged the Professors to bet on student relationships in his Third Year. “You’re not trying to set me up with her, are you?”

McGonagall giggled quietly and shrugged simply. “I think you and her could be very good friends.”

“Minnie,” he whined, resting his head in his hands. “You know how I feel about that.”

“I know, I know.” she said, grabbing a biscuit and taking a bite. “But I don’t think that she’s like most of the girls that people try to pair you with.”

Theo raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes observing McGonagall as she spoke. “Really?”

“She’s one of my favorite students, Y/N.” McGonagall said, breaking off a part of her biscuit to hand to Theo. “You the girl that sits near the front?”

Theo felt his cheeks flushing slightly at that. He knew about you, he had known of you for a while, ever since the beginning of this year.

You had transferred to Hogwarts at the beginning of this year, to barely anyone’s recognition. Theodore honestly wasn’t sure how nobody had noticed you. You were like the light of his entire life, a sentence he knows is absurd given that the two of you have never even talked before. He was sure that McGonagall had noticed, Mattheo had noticed how often he would do nothing but stare at you during his classes. Still, he couldn’t help but ask. “You noticed?”

“Course I did.” McGonagall deadpanned. “You only stare holes into the back of her head every class that you have together.”

Theo chuckled a bit awkwardly, picking at his fingernails. “She’s really beautiful.”

“Maybe you should talk to her.” McGonagall said with a smile.

Theo nodded, looking down at his hands resting in his lap. “Maybe I should.”

You were currently studying in the library with Hermione, Ron and Harry. Mainly Hermione and Harry, though he was still groaning with Ron about the workload that they had.

“This is so much work.” Ron groaned out loud, the sound reverberating off of the library walls. There was a small shushing sound from behind the bookshelf, which Ron rolled his eyes at. “Why do they assign so much school work?”

Hermione sighed and flipped through her textbook as he said that, the sound of her highlighter almost loud enough to be a reprimand. “Maybe you should’ve worked on it sooner.”

“It’s Potions class Mione,” Harry grumbled. “Snape always gives us an unfair amount of work.”

“He doesn’t give an unfair amount, right Y/N?” Hermione asked, looking over at you.

You looked up from the book that you were reading, fixing your hair behind your ear as you looked at the workload that the boys had. It definitely was more than you had been given though you also knew that they were ones to procrastinate as well. “It might be a mix of both.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Harry shrugged, much to Ron and Hermione’s dismay.

The four of you fell back into silence again, reading through notes and writing down points for potions and charms that you each were working on. It was silent in a calming kind of way to you, a way that reminded you of home, if only for a moment.

That was until your reading session had been interrupted. “Excuse me?”

The four of you looked up to the voice that was standing above you. You recognized him from your Potions and Transfiguration classes, though you didn’t know much else other than that. His voice was nice and smooth with an Italian accent, much like a smooth kind of red wine. His tie was Slytherin green, tied perfectly into his uniform, and his hair had been brushed recently.

“Yes?” you asked quietly, sitting up a bit straighter. As much as you knew that your friends might judge him for the color of his tie, you didn’t mind it too much. The green matched his face well.

Theodore smiled softly and waved, pointing down at the Transfiguration book you were reading. “McGonagall paired us up for tutoring. On the Mending Charm.”

“Oh!” you said before smiling, sighing internally. McGonagall had told you that you would be tutoring someone yesterday, though you were rather anxious about whether the person you would be tutoring would actually pay attention or not. He seemed to want to pay attention, at the very least. “What’s your name?”

“Theo.” he said, clearing his throat. “Theodore Nott.”

You smiled and closed your textbook, packing your bag and offering to go to a different section of the library. “We can study there, they have Silencing Charms around the study area.”

Theo nodded quietly before walking off to the area you had mentioned, leaving you with Harry, Ron and Hermione. The library seemed to get silent at that moment, almost ridiculously so.

“What?” you asked them confusedly.

Ron was the first to speak, his eyebrows furrowed confusedly. “You’re tutoring Nott?”

You shrugged simply. “I guess so,” you muttered quietly, looking to Harry and Hermione in confusion. Theo didn’t seem like a bad person, at least not from what you had seen. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“He hangs around a bad crowd.” Hermione muttered under her breath. Her voice seemed darker than it usually was, something that confused you. “You know, Riddle and them.”

“I mean, he’s probably not as bad as them.” Harry muttered quietly, looking over at Theodore. He was setting up the area that you had pointed him to, since the desks and the chairs were never set up properly. “I’ve never heard much about him, not unless it’s about him pulling someone else out of a fight.”

“See!” you said with a small smile, adjusting the strap of your bag. “He just seems quiet.”

“He’s a womanizer, ain’t he?” Ron said, face contorting in disgust.

You rolled your eyes at Ron’s words, looking over at Theo again. You could definitely see it, especially with the tiredness in his eyes. He was a conventionally attractive man. “At least he can understand women.” you rolled your eyes, looking over at Ron with a teasing smirk.

“Hey!” Ron pouted. Hermione chuckled quietly, with Harry laughing a bit louder. Ron rolled his eyes again before sighing. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You rolled your eyes back. “If Nott hurts me, then he’s gonna have to deal with my dad.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Ron said. “But still.”

Harry chuckled and closed his book, stretching out his back. “If anyone can handle themselves, it’s Y/N, Ron. Pads trained her with that stuff.”

“Ron still has a point.” Hermione said quietly. “I don’t know if I’d trust Nott either.”

You rolled your eyes again at that, taking the rest of your stuff and placing it all in your bag. “I’ll be fine.” you said, waving them goodbye and wishing them well in their studies.

You had been having study sessions with Theo for a couple of weeks at this point. He was a very talented student, so talented you weren’t even sure why McGonagall gave him tutoring lessons in the first place. Regardless of whether he needed them or not, he had them anyway. Which meant that the both of you wasted time talking to each other.

You learned a bit about what he was passionate about. He loved to read and write, especially poetry that was mellow and dramatic. He liked tea and Italian wine, and he liked the smell of cigarettes and weed at the top of the Astronomy Tower after a stressful day. You found yourself quite liking the scent of cigarettes and weed too, especially from his lips at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Theo told you about how he loved the stars, how his mother was resting there and how he liked to imagine them shining down through her love.

It was something that warmed your heart, a sentiment so mellow and sweet.

You learned silly things about Theodore as well. He was a sarcastic and sassy man, sassier than most that you knew. He had a knack for getting drama and dirt on others, though you doubted he’d use it unless he truly needed to. Not unless he wanted to talk gossip with you, something he had apparently never been able to do. You also learned that he hated a lot of petty things, some tiny things that had you howling on the floor.

You seemed closer to Theodore than you seemed to anyone else. Your friends were put off by it at first, especially Ron, though you tried not to pay them any mind. You went about your school days hanging around all four of your friends, at least until winter break came along.

The both of you were resting in the Astronomy Tower together, the bite of the wind reminding you of the fact that you would both be going home in the morning, even if temporarily.

“Are you going to go home for the holidays?” Theo asked quietly. His voice was thicker than usual, especially his accent. “Or are you gonna stay here?”

“I’m going home.” you chuckled quietly. Your voice was quite hoarse from screaming earlier, the both of you flying around in the empty Quidditch pitch. The rain had bit at your skin and peeled it off, at least it felt like that was what happened. “My dads would kill me if I didn’t.”

“Dads?” Theo asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked over at you. You had never noticed how full they were until now, the both of you huddled together on the floor for warmth.

You looked over at him with furrowed eyebrows as well. “What?”

“I didn’t know Lupin was gay.” he muttered quietly.

You shrugged simply. “I mean, he’s been with women before. But he’s married to my other dad.” you explained to Theo, looking at him with a tilted head. “Does that bother you?”

Theo shook his head instantly, chuckling quietly. “Not at all, I think it’s cool. I just didn’t think he was.” he said to you. “What’s your other dad like?”

You shrugged again before leaning your head on his shoulder. “He’s way louder. A drama queen. I think you’d like him.” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his for warmth. You weren’t quite sure why the air seemed to be freezing more than usual. Maybe it was the water still in your hair, which had poofed quite a bit.

“He sounds fun.” he whispered, resting his head back on yours. “I don’t know if I’m going to go home.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” you asked him, looking up at him.

Theo shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you from your family, that’s cruel.” he whispered quietly, a small smile forming on his face. “Mattheo’s probably gonna stay and annoy the shit out of me. As long as we can send each other owls and whatnot, we can be apart for just a couple weeks. Right?”

You smiled softly at that. “Definitely.”

Theo smiled at that, his hand linking with yours. You felt your cheeks warming slightly. You had only just now realized how close the two of you were, especially with physical contact. What scared you most was how easily you had become accustomed to it, but what scared you more was how much you craved it when you didn’t have it.

“We’re going to have to go soon.” Theo whispered quietly.

You shrugged simply, head still resting against his shoulder. “I have my bag packed already.” you said. “As long as I leave here before the sun rises, I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we can rest here for a bit?” he asked. There was something in his voice that you couldn’t pinpoint, though you wanted to say it was hopeful. “Just an hour or two.”

“Or maybe three.” you giggled quietly, cuddling closer to him.

“Y/N, my love!” Sirius called out, his body quivering with excitement as soon as he saw his daughter entering the house again. Remus was walking behind him with a cane, the last full moon having broken his leg in a way that hasn’t mended just yet. Sirius, as attentive as he was to Remus’ injury, seemed to forget about him completely in the face of their daughter.

Remus couldn’t really blame him either.

“You’re late!” Sirius pouted as he pulled you into a hug. You had to get Floo Flame access to the house through McGonagall’s office, though Remus or Sirius had been given a reason why. Nothing more than a letter from Minerva to ask you about it. “And you had to get Floo powder!”

“I’m fine, Dad.” you chuckled, dragging your bag into the room. “Can I go unpack before you barrage me with questions?”

“Of course you can.” Remus said with a small smile, kissing your forehead before letting you go upstairs. He noted a couple of new scars on your body, though nothing too major from the most recent transformation.

Sirius and Remus watched as you walked upstairs before turning to face each other, calculating expressions on the both of their faces. Ron and Hermione had come to them earlier after they had unpacked all of their clothes with concerned expressions on their faces. Remus had listened carefully when they expressed their concerns about you and Theodore, how they didn’t believe that Theodore would be a good influence on you.

Sirius seemed way more dramatic about it than he needed to be, though Remus was sure it was more for the fun of it rather than any potential danger. Remus tried to listen to Ron and Hermione’s concerns, as dramatic as they sounded from them, with an open mind.

He knew of the kid they were talking about through his year of teaching at Hogwarts, which quickly led to Sirius interviewing him as soon as Ron and Hermione had left the room.

A bright student that might not have put his whole foot into the assignment, but enough effort to have his grades worth something. He was a quiet student though, he didn’t get into much trouble. And as much as Sirius pouted about him potentially being a womanizer, Remus was sure that he wouldn’t get worse than Sirius was at Hogwarts.

“I’m back!” you called out, walking into the room with your pajamas.

“You look amazing, dove.” Remus smiled, pulling you into the hug he hadn’t been able to get earlier. “How was school this year? Did you have fun?”

“Oh yeah, tons!” you smiled brightly, jumping up and down a couple of times. “Can I tell you guys about it?”

“Be our guest.” Sirius smiled brightly.

Remus offered to make tea while you talked about the school year. It definitely had its downsides with Umbridge, who you were finally able to talk about now that you weren’t being tracked by her and her devices. But it was also a good year too. You had hung out with your friends, your grades had been good, and you had helped Harry establish the DA inside of the Room of Requirements. Sirius and Remus found themselves laughing at many different times during the stories of your escapades, though it eventually mellowed out when Sirius took his final sip of tea.

“Dove,” he said, clearing his throat and resting his hands on the table. “We had something we wanted to ask you about.”

“You do?” you asked confusedly, looking over at Remus who seemed just as confused. “We do?”

“Yes, we do!” Sirius pouted. “Ron and Hermione have informed us that you may or may not be hanging out with a Slytherin boy, who may or may not go by the name of Theodore.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, resting your head on the table. “Dad!”

“Was that really that much of a big deal?” Remus asked amusedly.

“Course it is!” Sirius wailed, his hands waving aimlessly in the air. “He’s a Slytherin! What if he’s using you to steal the Gryffindor’s Quidditch formula so that way they can beat the Gryffindors. I cannot stand even the thought of such atrocities.”

“Dad,” you groaned out loud. “Quidditch is cancelled, he couldn’t do that anyways.”

“She cancelled Quidditch?” Sirius asked dramatically, though Remus knew that he felt sadness running through every bone of his body from the news alone. “That’s a crime!”

“And I know that Theodore wouldn’t do that anyways.” you said, your voice much more collected in comparison. “Even McGonagall trusts him! She set us up in the first place.”

“McGonagall set you two up?” Remus chuckled out.

You sputtered out for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, she had me tutor him.” you muttered quietly to the both of them. “For the Mending Charm. Though I think she just wanted us to hang out, he was rather good at it anyways.”

“Oh, the classic tutoring.” Sirius sighed wistfully. “You know, McGonagall did that for James and Lily too back in our Sixth Year. Worked like a charm.”

You smiled softly at that. “He really isn’t that bad. Ron is just being dramatic.”

“Do you like him?” Remus asked curiously, taking a sip of his tea. He drank his much slower compared to Sirius.

You looked down at your cup of tea, which had barely been touched in your rambles. “I think so, but I’m not sure.” you whispered quietly. “We were cuddling last night, you know? Talking about stuff. He’s still staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.”

“Umbridge?” Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

You shook your head quietly. “His dad sucks.”

“You could’ve stayed with him if you wanted.” Remus said.

You shook your head again, this time a bit louder. “I would’ve. But he said I should come home. Family’s really important to him, you know?” you said with a soft smile. “His friend’s staying.”

Sirius and Remus looked at each other before smiling at that. Remus knew that Ron probably had a wrong perception, though he wasn’t aware it was going to be that wrong. He did, however, know that you were being genuine. “That’s a lot better than I thought it’d be.”

Sirius chuckled and shook his head. “Ron and Hermione were being rather dramatic, weren’t they?”

“What on Earth did they even say?” you asked exasperatedly.

“Nothing much,” Remus chuckled. “Other than that Theodore was a major ass, and probably thought it was a twisted joke to mess with you because you're a werewolf's daughter.”

You groaned loudly, slamming your head on the table. “Oh my God.”

“But,” Sirius said, a small smile on his face. “If he treats you well, and you love him truly, then I don’t think there’s an issue. Right Moony?”

“Exactly.” Remus said with a smile. “I’m sure that as long as he knows I will kill him should he hurt you, that whatever you choose to do from here will be a very healthy relationship.”

You chuckled loudly at that, standing up from your seat to give them both a hug that Sirius returned a lot quicker than Remus could. “I love you two.”

“We love you too, dove.” Remus whispered quietly, a small but proud smile on his face.

“Y/N!”

You looked up as you heard Theodore’s voice echoing through the halls, eyes blinking open in confusion. The lights around you were blinding to say the least, but they soon calmed down as you saw Theo move them to the side. “Theo?”

“What on Earth happened?” he gasped out.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before looking down, sighing quietly.

Your body was covered in bruises and cut marks, all from the night before. The full moon had been violent this month, a vision piercing through your mind that had led you to lashing out in the Shrieking Shack. You were usually never violent to your other self, unlike your father, though you still sometimes inherited the anger.

It seemed like tonight was a night you did.

“It’ll heal up.” you whispered quietly, looking over at Theo again. There was a pained expression on his face. He was obviously the first to know your night had gone sour, since you hadn’t heard from Hermione, Ron or Harry yet. “I promise.”

“Did someone do this to you?” he asked, looking you in the eyes. You immediately noticed the venom in his voice, and almost wanted to chuckle at it. He was so protective of you it was almost like a comedy show. Just earlier that week he had dragged you to the Slytherin Common Room when you came back early from your Yule break, and he had almost punched Mattheo square in the jaw for an offhand comment he thought was about you. Turns out that Mattheo had been looking at a completely different person, much to his luck.

You supposed that it was fair, all things considered. You both worked out the kinks of your relationship that night when you came back, which ended in a long session of kisses and affirmations of love whispered into the starry night shining just outside of the Astronomy Tower.

Even still, you weren’t sure how Theo would react to you being a werewolf. He knew of your father’s condition, every one of his students did, but not of yours.

You supposed there was only one way to find out.

“I did this.” you whispered.

Theo looked at you confusedly, in the sort of way like he thought you were lying more than the way like you didn’t make sense. “You did this.” he deadpanned out.

You shrugged simply, sitting up a bit straighter with his help. “You do know I’m a werewolf, right?”

Theo looked up at you, before looking down at the claw marks and the bruises again. “What does,” he muttered confusedly, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to solve a rather hard Ancient Rune tome. “I know that lycanthropy can be genetic. But I didn’t know that werewolves harmed themselves on full moons.”

“Most usually don’t.” you shrugged, a great sigh leaving your mind internally. He was more observant than you had given credit for. “I guess it was just a bad night.”

Theo felt his eyebrows furrowing even further. “Is that where your father got his scars from?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “His leg’s healing from last month’s moon still.

Theo nodded before pulling you into a kiss. It wasn’t like the kisses the both of you had before, it wasn’t harsh and demanding. No lust was present in the ridges of his tongue, no wanton need or burning desire for something sinful hidden in the cracks on his upper lip. There was only love. A pure love, one that you weren’t sure you had ever felt before.

It was warm like the sun on a summer’s morning, wrapping your soul in a blanket so cozy you were positive you never wanted to leave this kiss. If you weren’t of a more practical mind, you’d think that this kiss was a cure to all of your ailments. You might even believe that now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” he whispered quietly, his eyes locked with yours.

You scoffed quietly. “I would’ve hurt you.”

“I bet you were beautiful.” he said, a small but smug smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t mind dying to your claws.”

“Theo!” you smiled ridiculously, swatting his arm. “You’re insane.”

“I can be anything for you.” he winked, before looking over at the door to the Hospital Wing. “I should probably get going. Your friends are coming.”

You frowned softly at the door, noticing that Harry was holding it open for Ron and Hermione. No doubt they were way behind, he always walked faster than most. “Will I see you again?” you asked him quietly.

“Of course.” he smiled, biting his lip as he tried to figure out how he’d get out without being seen.

‘Harry doesn’t mind you, you know.” you whispered. “I’m sure he’d let you pass.”

Theo looked at you with a grateful smile, kissing your lips before walking over to the door. You were sure Harry had seen everything, a theory based nothing more than on the smirk he sent your way and the look he gave to Theo. Not a mean look by any means, nothing more just a protective look. Theo seemed to understand it, nodding quietly with a small smile before walking out the infirmary before Ron and Hermione approached.

You were glad that he came first. You felt rather glad for everything, really.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

this one took a lot longer than i was anticipating for a lot of reasons. i got sick, it's long as hell, had schoolwork beating my ass sideways and got really into watching arcane when i quite honestly should've been writing, but i finally got it done! sorry for the long wait anon, but i hope that this story fits your prompt's idea!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! love ya!

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (4) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

miscommunication

awkwardness & flirting ? some tension

note: see ya at the end :’)

//

jungkook barely stirs when you burst in. 

as the door swings shut behind you, he braces himself for a lecture from nam joon… because that’s who he’s expecting. he’s half-awake, body stiff, head heavy with exhaustion.

lazily, his eyes flutter open. when he registers who’s standing at the foot of his bed, he lets out a quiet scoff and tries to roll onto his side.

“shit,” he mutters, wincing.

you don’t say anything at first.

instead, you just walk in quietly, checking his chart, flipping through the details you already know. without a word, you help him sit up. you place your hands on his back, gentle but firm. if his body wasn’t so fucked up right now, he’d probably be melting from your touch. 

it’s been so long. 

jungkook exhales sharply but doesn’t pull away.

“bruised ribs and minor concussion,” you murmur, scanning his injuries. “your knuckles are busted… again. your wrist is slightly sprained—”

“you should’ve seen the other guy,” he jokes, managing to crack a smile. 

you stare at him blankly. 

he takes it as rejection and redirects. 

jungkook swallows, licking his lips. “where’s namjoon? he’s my doctor.”

“i’m a doctor too.”

“not my doctor.”

“jungkook—”

his lips curl, something sharp in his tone. his words almost come out like a hiss. “come on, doctor ___. don’t you have a kid to fix up with doctor yoongi? what are you doing here? i’m fine.”

your brows furrow instantly. 

“jungkook, that was nearly two months ago. i haven’t seen you in so long and this is how you come back to me?”

suddenly, his head spins.

come back to me?

his breath catches, the words cutting through him before he even has the chance to process them. they sink beneath his skin, settle into his bones, cling to the spaces between his ribs like they belong there. like they’ve always belonged there.

what did you mean by that?

did you mean anything at all?

or was it just something you said—careless, fleeting, unintentional?

this is unfair.

the way you speak to him is so fucking unfair.

your words are so soft and familiar. it’s laced with something he can’t quite name and instead it coils around him, pulls at something deep in his chest… something he’s been trying to ignore.

something he can’t ignore.

his fingers twitch slightly, gripping at the thin hospital blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his knuckles turn pale.

he wants to ask you to say it again.

wants to hear the way it sounded in your voice one more time.

but he doesn’t.

he just sits there, the weight of your words pressing down on him.

silence.

“i hate seeing you like this,” you say quietly.

jungkook huffs, looking away. 

“i know it looks bad right now… but i’m not quitting boxing.”

you nod. “i never asked you to.”

another stretch of silence, thick and heavy.

then—

“… i’m not dating yoongi,” you say. your voice is even, but something in it sounds tired. “it was just a case, jungkook. if you’re curious about history, we did residency together… not to mention, he’s also engaged.”

jungkook keeps his face blank.

“i never asked.” his tone is light, too light, like he’s trying to sound unaffected. “but good to know. i appreciate it.”

you study him for a second.

his expression is composed, but there’s something guarded about it. something that makes you wonder if you should have left it at that. but for some reason, you don’t.

“you could’ve though… you know? you could’ve asked.”

the words slip out before you can stop them, and now you’re just talking—filling the silence, filling the space between you.

“i wasn’t going to hide anything from you. there’s no reason to. despite only seeing you when you’re injured, i like seeing you… and the flowers… thank you for the flowers,” you add, softer this time.

and maybe you should stop there. maybe you shouldn’t tell him that you dried out the flowers to preserve them… maybe you shouldn’t tell him how you sent pictures of it to your friends and got teased for two weeks straight. maybe you should let the conversation settle, let him respond—let him say something.

but he doesn’t say anything.

instead, he just nods, barely reacting. it’s like he’s listening but not really hearing you.

so you give up.

“y-you… you need to recover. namjoon was paged and he'll be here in a minute… honestly, i saw your name and i had to check on you myself—”

jungkook exhales a laugh—low, rough.

“why?”

you sigh, exasperated.

“why do you think?”

his eyes flicker to yours, and for the first time since you started talking, he hesitates.

then—

“that’s nice—ha. are you flirting with me, doctor ___?” he muses, tilting his head. “i almost feel better.”

and the thing is—he means it.

you exhale through your nose, trying to suppress a smile.

“yeah? i guess i am.” you pause, then add, “sorry, i’m bad at it.”

“it’s okay,” he chuckles. “it’s cute.” 

the admission lingers between you. 

it’s awkward, but not in a bad way. like stepping into unfamiliar territory, like learning how to be around each other in a way that isn’t built on injuries and hospital visits.

you hesitate, just for a second, before reaching for his hand.

it’s warm. solid. steady. you squeeze once, offering something—an attempt, a bridge, a connection.

jungkook stares at it.

doesn’t pull away.

doesn’t hold on, either.

just watches. like he’s trying to decide if he should let himself take whatever it is you’re offering.

“i’ve had a crush on you for months,” he admits, almost absentmindedly. then, with a slight grin, he adds, “i know the plan was to get beat up until i could make you feel bad enough for me and convince you to go on a date… but this shit fucking hurts.”

you laugh. 

he laughs. 

then he struggles.

you immediately move, hands steadying him, eyes scanning him for any new signs of discomfort. he lets you fuss over him, lets you run your fingers through his hair to check for swelling, lets you linger longer than necessary.

“i really like you,” he breathes. “i don’t know what to do about it anymore.”

you nod, lips tightening at his confession. just as you open your mouth to respond to him, your pager beeps. you pull away a bit and check it.

“it’s urgent,” you murmur, pulling back completely. “i’m so sorry, i have to go back to my patient—“

“go.”

jungkook hums, missing holding your hand already. 

you don’t want to turn away… but you do. then, you turn right back and plead with him.

“stay overnight for observation. i’ll be back as soon as i can. seriously, jungkook… you need to recover—”

“i have a match in three months.” his voice is firm, resolute. “i only really have three weeks to recover.”

your brows knit together instantly. “that’s insane, jungkook.”

“but it’s not impossible,” he grins, ignoring the feeling of a rising disagreement. “i’ll recover well. i’ll win the match.” his voice dips slightly, eyes catching yours with something unreadable.

then—

“come watch me win.”

you inhale slowly.

you don’t answer right away. instead, you let the words settle between you, feeling their weight press against your ribs. you tell yourself you’re hesitating because you don’t want to give him the wrong idea. that you’re keeping your distance because it’s the right thing to do. but the truth is—

you don’t know how to be around him without feeling like you’re standing too close to something dangerous. regardless if it’s this… ethic and moral debate you have ongoing in your head or the simple fact that maybe… just maybe… you finally recognize love again.

and it’s different this time.

this time, it comes bruised and concussed.

it comes with a cheeky smile and words that make your heart flutter for months… it comes and it goes—and you spend endless hours waiting for him to walk through those doors again.

for a moment, you think about what it would be like if you stopped resisting. if you let yourself feel the way he makes you feel. if you let yourself want him, the way he so easily, so recklessly, seems to want you.

you test it.

“i… i don’t see patients outside of this hospital.”

the words leave your lips before you can stop them. you say them because it’s easier than saying what you really feel. easier than admitting that he doesn’t feel like a patient to you. not anymore.

not now.

now, he looks different. feels different. talks different.

there’s something unspoken in the way he watches you—something that makes your pulse slow, then quicken again. his smile fades into something quieter, something unreadable.

then—

“then don’t come as a doctor.”

his voice is lower now, deliberate, like he’s choosing each word carefully. like he wants you to hear them. really hear them.

your breath catches.

“come as something else.”

his gaze flickers over your face, dipping to your lips for just a second too long. your stomach tightens. your fingers twitch at your sides.

“come as someone else.”

it’s softer this time, but it sinks deep.

then, at the very last second, just as the space between you threatens to collapse in on itself, jungkook reaches for your hand. his fingers brush against yours first—barely, just enough to send a shiver up your spine—before he takes it fully, his grip warm, steady.

his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

his voice is quiet when he speaks again, but it’s the kind of quiet that demands to be heard.

the air stills.

“come to be with me.”

[harrysespresso]

short king | yt22

♡ summary: yuki hard launched over winter break but no one realized how tall you were till you’re photographed together in the melbourne paddock (essentially making the internet explode over your height difference & how cute your relationship is)

♡ pairing: yuki tsunoda x gf!reader

♡ warnings: none just fluff

♡ faceclaim: minnie mills

♡ a/n: this is a little short but i might post more of this pairing in the future (if that’s something you guys would want 🫣

masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

𝜗𝜚

f1gossip

Liked by user221 and 23,128 others

f1gossip Yuki Tsunoda photographed with girlfriend, YN LN as they entered the VCARB motorhome today.

tagged: yourusername, yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user887 they’re adorable 🤧

user120 SHES TALL I REPEAT SHES TALL

user881 EVERYONES TALL TO YUKI 😭

user977 user881 that’s just cruel 😭

user98 THEIR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE STFU-

user904 TALL QUEEN??

user654 TALL QUEEN 🤩

user021 THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭😩😩😩😩😩😩

user927 IVE DIED- THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE THE FITS THE BODY LANGUAGE— THEYRE ADORABLE 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣

user565 paddock it couple??

user196 YESS

user225 obsessed with them 😭

user981 they’re like perfect for each other 😭😭🤧

—— twitter

replies —

user881 it’s f1’s tomdaya 😭

user002 as he should ‼️‼️

user765 tall gf x short bf is always a POWER COUPLE 😭

user923 HONESTLY

user454 IM OBSESSED WITH THEM 😭😭😭

user921 tall girl recognition is so special to me

~~~

user981 OMG 😭

user102 THATS- 😭

user095 the fact she’s like short end of tall but still taller than him 💀

user410 i mean any taller would be crazyyyy 😭😭

user329 THATS LIKE A PERFECT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 😭😭

user410 ITS LIKE GOALS FR

user923 quickly becoming my favorite couple 🫣🫣

user410 i fear im parasocial about them 🤧

user923 i’m actually their pet cat 🤧🤧

user991 IM OBSESSED 😭

—— instagram

yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 245,784 others

yourusername aussie date night with my short king (i don’t think he’s that small guys 🤷‍♀️)

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

user983 BYE NOT THE TINY YUKI 😭

yourusername no idea what you mean he looks reallyyy tall here 🤷‍♀️

user983 right you right my bad 😭

user107 MYY FAVORITE WAG 💀💀

avantika that’s CRUEL

yourusername 🫣😭

user990 THIS IS COUPLE GOALS GUYS ‼️‼️

user804 SHE SLAYYS

lola.tung LOOK AT YOUU 😍

yourusername ILY 🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes beautiful girl 😍

yourusername mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻

yukitsunoda0511 YOURE SO 😍😝

yourusername AW POOKIE 🤭🤭

yukitsunoda0511 YN 😭 WTF

yourusername whaaa what happened 🤷‍♀️

yukitsunoda0511 😭😭

user021 TINY YUKI 😭😭😭

user103 YUKI WAS EVEN SHOCKED 😭

user978 he got caught up in how hot his gf is 😭😭💀💀

lando can’t believe you’d do him like that 🙂‍↔️

yourusername whaaat he’s a short king ☹️☺️

user299 yourusername bye that’s iconic 😭😭😭

danielricciardo see i know you edited that photo yuki isn’t that tall ☝️

yourusername you got me 🫤😔

yukitsunoda0511 i’m being bullied.

user765 YN quickly becoming everyone’s favorite wag:

user067 wow yuki is way taller in that photo! great picture angles queen! ♥︎ by author

lilymhe you’re actually my favorite person ever 😭😭

yourusername i’m flattered omg 🤭

—— yourusername instagram story

caption 1 i’ve been told by an unnamed source (yuki) that i need to apologize for bullying him on the internet (consider the next slide my formal apology) caption 2: my SINCEREST apologies to my sweet sweet tiny little baby pookie

replies—

yukitsunoda0511 this doesn’t feel like an apology 🤨

➥ yourusername oh! that’s because it’s not hope this helps ☺️

➥ yukitsunoda0511 that’s just cruel treating your short king bf this way 🙂‍↔️

➥ yourusername the internet started it i’m just fueling the fans 🤭

➥ yukitsunoda0511 MENACE 😭

➥ yourusername i love you too 😚

➥ yukitsunoda0511 🥲 i love you (even though you’re a bully)

user992 NEVER CHANGE QUEEN 😭

user021 THE MEMES 😭😭😭

user192 this is so gen z i love it💀💀

lilymhe BYE 😭😭😭😭

avantika formula one fans don’t know how unhinged you are yet 😭

➥ yourusername they’re learning so very slowly 😭😭😭

user876 my favorite f1 couple BY FAR 😭😭😭😭😭

—— instagram

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by pierregasly and 398,923 others

yukitsunoda0511 my tall girl dump 🩵

tagged: yourusername

View all comments

user985 STOPPP 😣😭

user765 me thinking this was a cute dump until i got to the last slide: 🥲

pierregasly EVIL 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511 this is revenge‼️

user525 I CANT 😭 THEY HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOR

user945 we better continue getting embarrassing photos of them both cause this is iconic 😭😭😭

yourusername YUKI WTF 😭

yukitsunoda0511 whaaaa my finger must’ve slipped 🤷‍♂️

yourusername I CANT STAND YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lilymhe BABY YN 😭😭

yourusername i was the same height as yuki is now

yukitsunoda0511 yourusername WTF

isackhadjar despite the last photo this is actually a very cute post 😭

user917 the fact they can joke with each other like this is what makes them goals 😭😭

user876 the height difference also helps

user917 that it does.

user673 YN WAS ADORABLE AS A KID 😭😭

user826 couple goals 😭😭

user918 super parasocial rn 🥲🥲

~~~

yourusername

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 152,543 others

yourusername that’s a wrap on melbourne!! was gonna do a cute lil dump but realized i already posted like every photo i took so enjoy the only one no one posted 🤷‍♀️😚

tagged: yukitsunoda0511

View all comments

avantika too chronically online to save photos for a dump 💀

yourusername shhh don’t call me out im supposed to be cool and mysterious 👀👀

user914 CUTIES 😭😭

user376 tomdaya of f1 ‼️

user995 short king x tall queen 😝

lilymhe had so much fun!! can’t wait till next time😚

yourusername mwah you’re the best 🫶🏻🫶🏻

francisca.cgomes best person to wander around the paddock with!

yourusername love ya kiks 🫶🏻

user934 this is the cutest 😭😭

user109 her little grin theyre so in looooove 😭😭😭😭

user522 PADDOCK IT COUPLE ‼️

user876 POINTS FOR YUKI!!! YUKI DOMINATION ‼️‼️‼️

user995 YUKI DOMINATION ‼️

yukitsunoda0511 i love you sm 🩵 thank you for being my lucky charm this weekend and for always supporting me 🙃

yourusername i love you so much yuki and im always your biggest fan 🥹🥲🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[lionneee]

Cherry Lips

Masterlist

Taglist

English is not my first language, please be kind

BestFriend!Mordern!Aemond x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

•Warnings: smut, taking of sexual themes, loss of virginity, piv, fingering, kissing.•

“You’re kidding!” She laughed as she looked at her best friend.

It was night, and they were sitting on the sand, looking at the ocean with a bowl of cherries between them.

“I’m not kidding! I bring one every time I get out, you never know!” Aemond chuckled as he threw another cherry in his mouth.

“How exactly do you expect to love your virginity that you think about putting a fresh condom in your pocket every time you get out?” She laughed as she watched him raise his shoulders with an amused smirk and throw another cherry in his mouth.

“You’ll choke on it if you keep throwing them in your mouth like that.” She scoffed but was still smiling.

“Sorry, mom.” He smirked as she jokingly pushed her shoulder.

“Seriously though, I can’t wait to have a boyfriend. I want to have sex so much.” She whined as she grabbed a cherry and put it in her mouth. Aemond hummed in agreement.

“Yeah, if I don’t have sex in a while, I’ll suck at it forever. Girls want guys who know what they’re doing. It’s easier for you.” He looked at her with an amused smile, even if he was actually speaking his mind.

“I don’t think it’s about what guys can do.” She said as she leaned back on her hands. “It’s about feeling safe, I guess.” She looked at her feet as she dug under the sand with them.

“It’s frustrating! Every guy I’ve been with wanted to have sex so soon, and… I never felt like it. How am I supposed to have sex with my hypothetical boyfriend if I’m always nervous around them?” She sighed.

“I know.” He laid back, looking at the dark sky and the visible stars. “Maybe we still haven’t found the right person yet.” He hummed. She groaned and let herself fall back to lay beside him.

“It’s shitty.” She commented. Aemond smiled and nodded in agreement. “I just want someone that… I know I’ll be comfortable with, even after the act. That if I mess up because I don’t know anything it will not cringe away but make me feel okay, not embarrassed.”

“I’m sick and tired of being a virgin.” Aemond broke the serious moment with a groan. They both chuckled.

She turned her head to look at him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Yeah? You gonna put that condom in your pocket to good use anytime soon?”

Aemond smirked, tilting his head toward her. “You never know. Maybe the opportunity will present itself when I least expect it.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Well, I hope whoever it is makes you feel comfortable too.”

Aemond turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand as he studied her face. “What if it’s someone you already feel comfortable with?”

She frowned slightly, not immediately understanding what he meant. “Like a friend?”

“Yeah." He said, his voice casual, but there was something beneath it, something hesitant, something testing. “Someone you already trust. No awkwardness, no pressure. Just… figuring it out together.”

She blinked, processing his words. The thought had never crossed her mind before, not really. But as she looked at Aemond, his familiar face, the way he could make her laugh even in frustrating moments, it didn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“You mean like… us?" She asked cautiously.

Aemond shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, we both want to get it over with, right?” He hesitated, watching her reaction. “And we both want to feel safe.”

She bit her lip, looking up at the sky as her heart beat just a little faster. “That’s… not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

He let out a chuckle, but it was softer this time, almost nervous. “No pressure. Just a thought.”

She turned her head to look at him again, searching his face. “Would it ruin things between us?”

Aemond’s smirk faded, and his expression grew serious. “I don’t think so. You’re my best friend. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

She swallowed, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words as he laid back on the sand.. “Same. And we'll stay friends after we…”

“Of course.” He agreed, looking up at the sky.

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at the stars, the sound of the waves filling the silence. Then she exhaled, shaking her head with a chuckle.

“Well, at least we know one thing for sure." She said, reaching for another cherry.

Aemond arched his brow, turning to look at her. “What’s that?”

She popped the cherry into her mouth and grinned. “You’ll definitely have a condom ready.”

He groaned, rolling onto his back as she laughed beside him.

Once their laughs dissipated, they were left in a strange silence. Despite her agreeing to Aemond’s proposal, none of them made a move.

She chewed on her lip, staring up at the stars, her mind whirling. The idea had seemed so simple when they were joking about it. But now that it was hanging between them like an unanswered question, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

Aemond exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

She turned her head to look at him, and when she saw the faint nervousness in his expression, she felt a little relieved. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling this way. “A little." She admitted with a soft laugh.

He hummed, folding his arms behind his head. “I mean, we don’t have to do anything. It was just a thought.”

She hesitated, considering his words. “But… Do you want to?”

His jaw tensed for a second, as if he was debating something internally. Then he turned his head to meet her gaze. “Yeah." He said honestly. “But only if you do too.”

There was something about the way he said it, no teasing, no smirking, just simple sincerity, that made her heart flutter.

She swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were. The warm night air wrapped around them, the ocean waves whispering in the background. It was just them, alone on the sand, like always. But somehow, it felt different now.

“I don’t want it to be weird after." She murmured.

“It won’t be, I guess." He assured her. “Not unless we make it weird.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “That sounds like something someone would say right before it gets weird.”

Aemond chuckled. “I mean it." He said softly. “We’ll still be us.”

She studied him for a long moment, then she turned back to look at the stars. 

“Okay.” She said suddenly.

His eyes flickered to her lips for a brief second before meeting her gaze again. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Again, no one moved, and they fell right back into their previous silence.

She couldn’t stop thinking, whether she should make a move, or say something, or kiss him.

But her body refused to move.

“Should we start with a kiss?” He asked carefully, stealing a glance at her.

She swallowed, nodding slowly. That seemed… reasonable. A low-risk way to ease into whatever this was.

“Yeah." She agreed as she laid on her side to face him.

He turned towards her, his gaze flickered to her lips before meeting her eyes again. He didn’t move right away, giving her the chance to change her mind. But when she didn’t, he leaned in, slow, deliberate.

The moment his lips brushed against hers, she felt her breath catch. It was soft, barely there, but enough to make her stomach flip.

Aemond pulled back an inch, searching her face. “Still okay?”

She blinked, licking her lips as if trying to process the feeling. “Yeah.”

His lips quirked in the faintest of smiles before he leaned in again, this time pressing a little firmer, letting it last just a second longer.

Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… nice.

When they pulled apart, she exhaled, opening her eyes to meet his, licking her lips.

His lips tasted like cherry.

“Still not weird?" He asked, hesitation in his gaze.

She shook her head. “Not weird.”

Aemond nodded. “Good.”

For a moment, they just lay there, staring at each other, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them. 

Aemond leaned over again, this time when he kissed her, his tongue pushed gently, hesitantly against her lips, as if asking her to part them.

The sensation was strange, having his tongue in her mouth, or pushing hers in his, teeth clashing against teeth, the way he tasted, the exchange of saliva, was something she had never thought it would feel like.

But she liked it.

She put her hand on his cheek as she slowly raised herself on her elbow to deepen the kiss, their noses pressed against each other’s cheeks. Aemond let out a moan, a sound she never heard from him before, but that made her stomach clench in a strange way, and her thighs close tightly.

Aemond’s hand moved to her hip, slowly moving on her back as she pressed her against him. His other hand slipped in her hair, pulling her face closer from the back of her head, his tongue moving restless in her mouth.

Aemond’s fingers tightened slightly against her hip, his body pressing subtly into hers. The heat between them was building, slow but undeniable. She could feel his breath against her skin, the weight of his touch, the way his lips moved against hers like he was savoring the moment.

Her heart pounded as she let herself lean into him more, her own hands hesitantly exploring, fingertips ghosting over his jaw, then trailing down to the fabric of his shirt. He was warm, solid. Familiar and yet suddenly something else entirely.

Aemond pulled back just enough to look at her, his forehead nearly touching hers. His breathing was heavier now, his pupils slightly blown. “Still okay?" He murmured, voice low.

She nodded, her own breath shaky. “Yeah.”

He exhaled sharply, like he had been holding something back. “We can stop whenever, you know that, right?”

She swallowed, nodding again. She did know that. And yet, she didn’t want to stop.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she pulled him back down to her. This time, the kiss was different, deeper, more certain.

“You taste like cherry-“ He moaned in her mouth.

“You too…” She answered, slipping her hands in her hair, pulling him closer.

Aemond responded instantly, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, resting lightly against her bare skin. The contrast of the cool night air and his warm touch sent a shiver up her spine.

His lips moved to her jaw, then down to her neck. She gasped when he lingered there, his tongue tracing lightly against her skin.

Her back arched on its own, her legs spreaded, and Aemond wasted no time.

“Can I touch you?” He asked as he kept kissing the skin of her neck. She bit her lip at his question, nodding almost immediately.

Aemond groaned and slipped his hand under her pants and panties, searching desperately for her clit.

“Tell me where –” He looked up at her, his eye shadowed by a veil of pure desire.

“A bit lower- Ah!” She moaned as he found it, his fingers flicking it roughly. Aemond immediately looked back up at her from his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, stopping his hand for a moment.

“I’m fine…” She panted. “That felt good. P-press there-” She gasped as he applied the right amount of pressure. “Nor rub, not too fast.” 

Aemond nodded, looking back down at his hand as he did as she instructed, rubbing his fingers on her pearl. After he took the pace, he looked up at her, finding her with her head thrown back, silent cries escaping her lips, her back arched and her brows furrowed in pleasure.

He never expected that a sight like that could turn him on that much.

His cock was straining against his pants, begging for attention, so he slowly rubbed it against her tight, to alleviate a bit of lust.

“Can I slip them inside?” He didn’t realize it until he spoke, but he was breathing harder. He watched her closely, and when she nodded, he trailed two of his fingers lower, until he met her entrance. “Are two okay?” He asked, restraining himself to just fuck her with her fingers until she would crate a whole different ocean under them.

“Yes-” She panted, and let out a moan as he slipped his two thick fingers inside her. Aemond groaned at her beautiful sound, leaning his forehead against hers, as he crooked his fingers, rubbing her inner walls, searching desperately for that spot he knew women had.

His head fell on her shoulder as he imagined how her tight walls could feel around his cock, squeezing him from every side, massaging him, warming him.

“Where is it?” He growled to himself, against her ear, making a shiver run through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers digging on his back as she kept moaning.

Aemond smiled satisfied only when he heard her gasp, and moan louder, knowing he had found that spot. He kept rubbing it continuously, and when he felt her walls clenched around his fingers, his eye nearly rolled back.

He couldn’t wait to feel her, to know what her walls squeezing around him would feel.

“A-Aemond-” She panted, knowing she was close to the edge. She could feel herself tensing, and she knew she was going to experience one of her best orgasms ever.

His fingers moved faster inside her, and she had to cover her mouth to not moan too loud.

“I-I’m gonna- c-come —” She closed her eyes shut, wrapped her arm tighter around him, bringing him closer as her hips started to squirm, her legs trembling, and then, she let go, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body, her back arching as Aemond slowed down his fingers and slowly slipped them out.

Once she was relaxed, she slowly let go of Aemond and unwrapped her arm from his neck, slowly opening her eyes and moving her hand away from her mouth.

She could see that Aemond was restraining himself. He kneeled between her legs, looking down at her as he opened his belt.

“I… I need to-” He panted heavily, his brows slightly arched in pain.

“I know.” She nodded and sat up, helping him lower his pants. He lowered them just enough to let his cock spring out, then he grabbed his condom from his pockets, opening the package and rolling it down his hard cock.

She tried not to look too much, but it felt almost impossible. The only dicks she had ever seen were in porns, but she swore that it was the biggest one she had ever seen, and she didn’t know if she should have been more agitated or excited.

Aemond placed his hand under her chin and kissed her gently, in a way that felt more like a promise that he wouldn't have hurt her rather than driven by simple desire.

He leaned back over her, forcing her to lay back on the sand, then he placed one hand beside her head, the other tugging her pants down impatiently. She helped him remove them, the slight breeze of the night making her shiver slightly, when in fact, she was hot all over.

“I’ll be gentle, just-” He fisted his cock a couple of times before rubbing his tip against her clit, finding it again with ease. She moaned softly and looked up at him, even if his eye was concentrated on looking at his cock so close to her cunt.

“Please, can I-” He groaned as he kept rubbing his tip against her. “Just the tip now, but–”

“Yes.” She said before he could even finish his sentence, she had never, ever felt more turned on than in that moment, and she too, couldn’t wait any longer.

Aemond bent his arm and rested on his elbow on top of her and kissed her as he gently pushed against her entrance. The stretch stung, but it wasn’t as painful as she imagined, or as she had been told. There was a strange edge of pleasure along with the pain that made her crave more.

She widened her legs as Aemond lift back just enough to look at her.

“More.” She panted, her hands moving to his hips to gently move him lower, his cock slipping deeper inside her. Her mouth opened and she arched her brows, taking a deep breath, her head falling back and she bent her legs as Aemond bottomed out inside her. 

“Y-you’re so tight—“ He groaned, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Her walls were enveloping everywhere, squeezing him, clenching as they adapted to the intrusion of his cock. He had to close his eye and try hard to not move, or even worse, come, but hell if it was hard when she felt so fucking good.

“It feels so fucking amazing—“ He dipped his head under her face, kissing her neck, trying to distract her from her discomfort.

“You feel good too…” She panted, her arms wrapped around his back, hugging him tightly. Aemond’s hand moved to her thigh, caressing it softly, raising his head to look at her.

They did it.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at her in her eyes. She nodded.

“Yeah. Y-you can move…” She blushed as she said that and Aemond never loved an order more than that one.

He started pulling out, until only his tip would be inside her, then gently thrust forward, trying to caress her walls as carefully as possible, hoping she would quickly feel good enough to let him go faster.

She moaned, her face showing still a bit of pain, but it faded away as he kept rolling his hips slowly and gently.

It felt good, foreign, but wonderfully good. She felt extremely full, and she found herself getting addicted to the feeling.

“Aemond-“ She looked up at him. “Move faster…” She asked.

Aemond immediately sat up and complied, grabbing her waist tightly from under her sweater.

“Please tell me you’re okay—“ He growled as he tried to not go too fast for her. “You feel so fucking good-“ He growled, as he looked down at how his cock kept entering her again and again. He moved his hand to her clit, finding it immediately to her surprise, and he started rubbing it again just as she told him before, making her pleasure overpower the pain.

“Does it still hurt?” He panted as he looked up at her. She shook her head as her back arched, her hips rolling along with his thrust.

“Let me move faster—“ He panted. “Please- This feels so fucking good.” He growled. 

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay, I’m fine-“ She couldn’t finish her sentence as he bent over her, starting to thrust harder as his arm wrapped around her head, his hand moved on top of it, keeping her against his shoulder as he kept rolling his hips, picking up the pace.

“Keep going, Aem-“ She moaned, her hands clenching on his shirt. “I love it—“ She cried out as she felt her orgasm growing.

“Yes. I fucking love it too.” He growled. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” He panted.

“Me neither.” She moaned as her back arched, her cunt clenched tightly as she felt the tension building inside her, ready to snap.

Aemond moaned loudly as he felt her clenching, the pleasure taking his body.

“Y-you’re tighter—“ He gasped and pressed her closer, thrusting faster, harder, more intensely. He was completely out of control of his body, he was letting himself get driven by the pleasure, the ecstasy that he was feeling, that she was making him feel. 

“Fuck!” He tried to keep his pace steady with his fingers on her clit, hoping she would come soon because he didn’t know if he would last much longer.

“Oh, Aemond-“ She moaned as she hid her face in his neck. His cock was brushing repeatedly on the same spot his fingers rubbed before, but along with the stretch, the knowledge that they were having sex, that he was inside her, made it all more intense.

“I-I’m gonna-“ She cried out.

“Me too.” Just as he said that, she exploded around him, clenching tighter around him as she moaned and jerked her hips. “Yes, fuck yes—“ He moaned as he came, his balls releasing the hot cum inside the condom, his cock getting massaged repeatedly by her walls, that were still spasming.

They stayed still for a long time, hugging each other until their breaths returned to normal. Then, he slowly, gently pulled out, noticing her wincing when she did.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping his movements and looking at her, worried.

She nodded.

“Yeah, just… a strange feeling.” She said, Aemond nodded and laid back beside her.

They laid in silence, their brains registering what just happened.

“Sex… sex is amazing.” She smiled, happy. Aemond chuckled beside her.

“It really is.” He laughed with her.

They quickly dressed back up and stood up, walking back to his car.

“Your condom really was useful in the end!” She laughed as she walked beside him.

“Told you.” He smiled and looked. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and he offered her the last cheery with his other hand. She smiled at it and took it, throwing it in her mouth.

“Careful. You might choke on it if you throw it in your mouth like that.”

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevhagar

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi, I'm crazy about your work. I was wondering what about the idea of a seventeen 14-member reader, where she is very popular among other male (and not only) idols?

Secret Love | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The moment Y/N stepped into the venue for the award show, she immediately felt the eyes on her. It wasn’t anything new. As the 14th member of Seventeen, she was already a well-known figure in the industry, but somehow, the attention she received went beyond just being an idol.

Seated at their table, Seventeen was casually chatting when Joshua scrolled through his phone and let out a small laugh.

“Another compilation video,” he said, turning the phone toward Y/N. The screen showed a montage of various male idols staring at her during award shows, variety shows, and even candid backstage moments. Dramatic music played over slowed-down clips of Taehyun from TXT smiling at her, Hyunjin from Stray Kids gazing at her dreamily, and even Jungkook from BTS subtly watching her during a live broadcast.

Y/N groaned. “You guys act like it’s not completely exaggerated.”

“No, but some of these clips are real,” Seungkwan pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Like this one—look at this! Sunghoon from ENHYPEN literally admitted he’s a fan of yours.”

Mingyu smirked. “Can’t blame them.”

“That's not the point,” Jeonghan cut in, crossing his arms. “The point is, people keep thinking they have a chance with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “And whose fault is that? Maybe if you guys weren’t so overprotective, I’d actually get to talk to people.”

Hoshi scoffed. “Please. Like we’d let you fall into the hands of some lovestruck rookie who doesn’t know how to act normal around you.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, but deep down, she appreciated their protectiveness. They were like brothers to her, always watching her back and making sure she didn’t fall into any unnecessary drama. She knew they meant well, even if it sometimes felt a little over the top.

Just then, a staff member approached their table. “Hey, Y/N, someone from another group was asking about you.”

DK leaned forward immediately. “Who?”

The staff hesitated. “Um, someone from ATEEZ? I think it was Yunho? He wanted to know if he could get your number.”

Vernon and Woozi exchanged glances before answering at the same time. “No.”

Y/N facepalmed as the rest of Seventeen burst into laughter.

“I swear,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t even breathe without people asking for my number.”

She appreciated the way they looked out for her, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t do anything without someone keeping an eye on her.

As they continued to chat, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to a time before all the chaos. A time when she’d found a little bit of normalcy in the middle of it all.

“Actually,” she began, her voice suddenly quieter, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you guys.”

Everyone stopped talking and turned to her, sensing the shift in her tone.

“I’ve... been seeing someone,” she confessed, feeling the weight of the words on her tongue.

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering. “Jungkook. From BTS.”

The table went silent. Seungcheol was the first to break the silence, his eyes wide. “Wait, Jungkook from BTS? Are you serious?”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Yeah. We went on a few dates before he enlisted. It was… nice. Real, even. But now, with him gone, things are different.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he leaned forward with a playful grin. “Wait, wait, wait… Jungkook? My Jungkook?” He shook his head, acting dramatically hurt. “Not even he told me about this? I’m hurt, Y/N. We’ve been through so much together, and you—you kept it from me?”

Y/N chuckled nervously, a little guilty. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, Mingyu. I was trying to keep it lowkey.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, but we’re talking about Jungkook here. You didn’t even tell me?” He crossed his arms, feigning offense. “Are you sure you’re not hiding something more, like, secret dates or romantic gestures?” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, though her face flushed slightly. “Well, kind of, yeah,” she admitted, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. “We did go on a few dates before he left for the military. It was... nice. Real, even.”

The members were in awe, some laughing while others were still processing. Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Oh my god, Y/N, so those rumors about you two were actually true?”

Y/N sighed, nodding. “Yeah. It wasn’t anything huge, but... I guess it’s a little hard to keep things like that a secret, especially with all the attention we get. But it was just us, you know? No cameras, no fans. Just normal.”

“Wow,” Hoshi said, still processing the new information. “You went on dates with Jungkook? And no one knew?”

Y/N shrugged lightly. “Yeah. I didn’t want to make it into a big deal.”

Mingyu smiled, clearly teasing her. “Well, now that it’s out in the open, I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone. ‘Hey, my friend’s been dating Jungkook from BTS.’” He grinned at her. “I’m kidding. But seriously, that’s amazing.”

Y/N smiled warmly, appreciating their reactions, but there was a sense of relief that washed over her. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t hiding anything. They were her family, and she knew they’d understand, no matter how surprising it was.

“And,” she added, “we’re still in touch. He’s going to be on a short break soon, and he said he wants to meet up. So, yeah, we’re not completely out of touch.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened even more. “Wait, he wants to see you? Man, Y/N, that’s... I guess that’s the real deal then!”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s not like that. It’s just… we both want to see how things go once he’s back.”

Just then, Woozi, who had been quiet up until now, raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his face. “So, that’s why all the armys are losing their minds over Golden,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. “I mean, all they’ve been asking is about who he sang that album for. Guess we finally know, huh?”

The table went silent for a moment, before everyone burst into laughter. Y/N felt her face heat up again, but she couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Seriously?” she asked, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “I swear, I’m just friends with him.”

Joshua chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, we’ve heard that one before.”

“I mean, at least now you know who that song’s really about,” Seungkwan added with a wink, clearly enjoying the moment.

Y/N rolled her eyes but was secretly relieved that, despite the teasing, she could finally be open with her friends. “I can’t believe you guys are still talking about this.”

“We can’t help it,” Mingyu said with a grin. “It’s Jungkook, Y/N. Who wouldn’t be curious?”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The members nodded, a mix of surprise and admiration in their expressions.

“We’ll always have your back, Y/N,” Joshua said with a reassuring smile. “But if anyone else tries to get your number, I’m personally taking care of it.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for them. “I know. And I appreciate it, I really do.”

But at least now, she could finally share a piece of her personal life with them.

[luv-lock]

Thinking about what the invincible variants were thinking when they see the mainstream alien!reader... Now think about what the variants talking about their respective alien!reader when they were stuck in the wasteland dimension (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Oh, this is good. Imagine all the different Invincible variants stuck in that wasteland dimension, looking at each other, realizing just how different their relationships with their respective alien readers are. Some of them probably think they got the best version. Others? Yeah… not so much. For the sake of it let's pretend main Mark is there too.

When They See the Mainstream Alien Reader

The first thing they all notice? She’s normal. Well, as normal as a Qu can be. She’s protective, strong, and yeah, a little terrifying when it comes to keeping Mark safe, but she’s not trying to conquer planets, not committing genocide, and definitely not treating Mark like a glorified blood bag or a means to an end. She actually cares about him.

Sinister Mark? He’s looking at her like she’s an alien in a way he’s never seen before. “Wait, she doesn’t eat people?” He doesn’t get it. How is she not constantly dripping in blood? How does she not rule over something? More importantly, how does this Mark have all his limbs intact?

Viltrumite Mark? He just stares because, honestly, he can’t even imagine a version of his wife who isn’t sick and frail. His version can barely keep her eyes open half the time, and here’s this one, standing beside her Mark, fully awake and looking healthy. He hates how much that pisses him off.

Mohawk Mark? He just laughs. “Oh, so you actually like her? That’s cute.” His Y/n only cares about herself, so the idea of one actually prioritizing Mark is just hilarious to him. He calls it pathetic, but deep down, he wonders what it’s like to have a partner who gives a shit.

When They Talk About Their Own Alien Readers

Eventually, when they’re stuck in the wasteland long enough, they start talking. And the more they talk, the more they realize… some of them are in absolute hell.

Normal Mark (Mainstream)

"So, uh… you guys don’t have this? Y’know, a wife who actually cares about you?"

He’s confused. How did he get the best version of her? Why are all their relationships so weird? His Y/n follows him everywhere, sure, but she doesn’t treat him like shit, doesn’t use him, and she’s a great mom.

The more he listens to them, the more he realizes just how insane their versions are.

He starts feeling lucky. Really lucky.

Sinister Mark

"Yeah, no, I don’t want yours. I like mine just the way she is."

He adores his version. Is it toxic? Absolutely. Do they kill together? Yes. Do they sometimes eat people together? Also yes.

He doesn’t understand how anyone could be satisfied with a Qu who isn’t a complete monster.

He’s also lowkey judging Viltrumite Mark. “Dude, you have her locked up? She’s your prisoner? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Viltrumite Mark

"You wouldn’t understand. She’s fragile. She needs me."

He acts like he’s got everything under control, but the more he listens to how alive everyone else’s versions are, the more he starts questioning things.

He convinces himself that his Y/n being weak is a good thing. That it makes her special.

But there’s a part of him that wonders what it would be like to have a version of her that wasn’t always sick, that didn’t need to be locked away.

Mohawk Mark

"Bro, mine’s just in it for the sex. She doesn’t even remember my name half the time."

He thinks it’s hilarious. Everyone else is talking about how they have some kind of relationship with their Y/n, meanwhile, he’s just out here dealing with the most selfish version possible.

He doesn’t care, though. He enjoys himself. He gets what he wants, and so does she.

But after hearing everyone else talk, a small part of him wonders what it would be like to actually have a real connection. Not just physical, but actual affection. He’d never admit it, though.

How the Conversation Ends

By the end of it, Normal Mark is sitting there like, "Damn. I really won, huh?" Meanwhile, Viltrumite Mark is trying to convince himself he’s happy, Sinister Mark is fully convinced he has the best version of all time, and Mohawk Mark is just vibing, pretending he’s fine.

Honestly, if they ever got out of that wasteland, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them started questioning their entire existence.

[rafes-slut]

He lied he never gave head to girl before so you will offer

Pairing: bsf!Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (f. receiving), Fingering, Dirty Talk, Cocky Rafe, Light Deception (because he thinks he's slick), Best Friends with Tension, Slight Manipulation, Language

Summary: Rafe had been desperate to get in your pants for years, and you saw through his games. So when he claimed he’d never gone down on a girl, you knew it was a lie—but you played along. The second you teased the idea, he was between your legs, proving just how good he really was.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Rafe had been desperate to get in your panties for years. He flirted shamelessly, made suggestive comments when he thought you wouldn’t call him out, and always found some excuse to touch you. A hand on your thigh, fingers brushing your neck, his lips close to your ear under the guise of whispering something.

But it never worked. Because you knew him too well. You knew he was a player, that girls fell for him left and right, and you refused to be one of them. He could act like the idea of fucking you was just a casual thought in his head, but you saw through it.

And tonight was no different.

You were lounging on his bed, legs stretched out, scrolling through your phone while he sat at the edge, tossing a baseball in the air. The room smelled like his cologne—something deep and rich, mixing with the faint scent of beer from earlier.

Then, out of nowhere, he said it.

“I’ve never gone down on a girl before.”

You paused. Blinked. Then turned your head toward him, an expression of exaggerated shock on your face.

“What?” you gasped, all fake disbelief and wide eyes. “You, Rafe Cameron, the king of hookups, have never eaten a girl out?”

Rafe shrugged, playing the role effortlessly. “Never.”

You narrowed your eyes. Liar. He was lying through his teeth, and you both knew it. But you had to give him credit—he was committing to the bit.

“No way,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s actually insane. How does a guy who brags about his body count not do that?”

Rafe leaned back on his hands, giving you that signature smirk, the one that made girls drop their panties in seconds. “Never needed to,” he said lazily. “They all finish just from me fucking them. Never had a girl complain.”

You snorted. “Wow. And you’re proud of that?”

“Damn right,” he said. “But…” He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “I mean, I’d do it… for the right girl.”

There it was. The bait. And you could pretend like you didn’t see the trap, like you weren’t aware he was trying to play you. But where was the fun in that

You sat up, tilting your head. “That’s kind of sad, honestly.”

He raised a brow. “Sad?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You’re missing out. And so are they.”

His smirk deepened. “Yeah?”

You licked your lips, letting the moment stretch, knowing damn well what he wanted. He was waiting for you to offer. Waiting for you to say it.

And when you did, you made sure to drag it out.

“If you really wanna learn…” you started, voice slow, teasing.

You didn’t even get to finish the sentence.

One second you were talking, the next he was between your legs, yanking your shorts and panties down in one swift movement.

“Jesus, Rafe—”

“Shut up,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before spreading you open. His voice was cocky, but his actions were desperate. Like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. And maybe he had.

You barely had time to process the fact that he was actually doing this before his mouth was on you.

And fuck.

You’d suspected he was lying about never eating a girl out, but now you knew for sure. Because there was no way someone inexperienced could be this good.

His tongue flicked against your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. Your back arched on instinct, hands flying to his hair as a broken moan left your lips.

Rafe groaned against you, the vibrations making your legs tremble. “Knew you’d sound so fucking pretty.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy trying to keep from falling apart in under a minute.

He was relentless, switching between slow, teasing strokes and fast, hungry movements that had you gasping for air. And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right—

“Fuck, Rafe—”

He chuckled, pulling away just enough to look at you, lips shining with your slick. “Thought I never did this before?”

Cocky bastard.

You wanted to call him out, wanted to say something smart, but then he did something with his fingers, rubbing against that perfect spot, and suddenly, you couldn’t think at all.

Your hands gripped his hair tighter as your thighs threatened to squeeze around his head. “Oh my God—”

He smirked against you. “Yeah? That good?”

You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure built higher and higher, coiling tight in your stomach.

“Rafe, I—”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, sucking your clit back into his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your whole body arched off the bed as you came undone, moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, white-hot pleasure consuming every inch of you.

Rafe didn’t stop. He kept going, dragging out your orgasm until you were twitching from overstimulation, hands weakly pushing at his head.

Finally, he pulled away, grinning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn.”

You were still catching your breath, legs shaking as you tried to process what just happened.

And then, the bastard had the audacity to smirk and say, “So, you really think I was lying?”

You scoffed, throwing a pillow at him. “Oh, fuck off.”

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: mentions and talk of family death

A/N: This is a bit shorter than the past couple chapters, but I hope you still like it!

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P12: Bittersweet

“You did all of this… for me?” 

The question floats off my lips as my eyes dart around the room. It’s the same fluttery feeling I got in my chest when Matt showed me his handmade gift for Mia—expect this feels more intense. 

“I… yeah.” Chris voices, his hand dropping mine as he moves over towards the bed. He shuffles the different items around, pushing them to make an open space and patting the bed. 

My brows wrinkle together, warmth crawling up my cheeks as I take everything in. He did this for me. A box of legos, cookies, and chocolate—all my favorite things. How did he even know?

Wait.

How did he even know?

“This is sweet, but how much have you been snooping?” I question, sitting down as he lets out an awkward laugh. My hands run over the blanket, it feels softer than usual, almost as if it’s been freshly washed. 

“No, no. I wasn’t snooping. Well, not more than I already have. I asked Matt, ‘cause you know… he kinda owed me.” he laughs. 

My toes curl as my stomach flutters. 

He asked Matt about me. He wanted to do something sweet. 

Even if it was out of spite, it still made me feel so warm. 

___

It should be awkward. There should be some sort of lingering tension, but there isn’t. 

Things have been flowing effortlessly. Even when we fall into a pause of silence, it’s not uncomfortable, it’s peaceful. 

We work together putting the legos in place. Slowly, each piece makes the object appear similar to the cherry blossom tree displayed on the front of the box. The direction pamphlet sits on the bed in front of us, our knees touching as we hunch over and build the small object. 

“What’s your favorite animal?” Chris asks. 

The questions have been mumbled every couple of minutes. I don’t mind though. Even when some of them seemed stupid, like when he asked me what my favorite size of pizza is. 

Apparently his favorite is mini pizzas. There’s always a stash in the freezer and the last time Matt took one, Chris refused to do anything with him for a week—even if it was taking out the garbage and meant Matt would be helping him. Chris only caved once Matt bought him more mini pizzas. 

Stupid questions, but they were fun. 

“Hmmm…” I start to think. What is my favorite animal? I can’t remember the last time someone even bothered to ask. I can’t even remember the last time I tried to think of answering these types of questions for myself. “I think dogs? I mean, I love dogs since you can actually have them as pets, you know?” I say. 

Chris nods, humming in acknowledgement. “Not a bad answer, you’re the same as Matt.” he points out. I smile at the mention of Matt. It’s heartwarming how much Chris brings him up, how much he truly knows about his brother. 

“What about you? Do you have a favorite?” I interrogate, my fingers snapping another piece in place. 

“I like deer,” he answers. 

My face twists at his response. Deer? I don’t know what I expected, but definitely not deer. They seemed too gentle, too feminine. Most guys my age wouldn’t say deer unless it was followed by an explanation of how they loved hunting. 

And Chris definitely didn’t hunt. 

“Really?” I ask, wincing as my voice comes out higher pitch than intended. 

Chris laughs at my shocked expression, nodding as he goes into more detail. “Really. I just like ‘em. My dad showed me this video of a baby deer once—the thing looked like it was on crack from how it was bouncing around. Him and all my family agreed that it was me in another universe.” 

My teeth clench into my lip. The thought of Chris bouncing around with excitement is hard to picture, but I guess not impossible. Maybe that’s how he used to be, before he lost his mom and his other brother. I know I used to be different—I hated that fact. 

“My dad used to compare me to this one dog in the neighborhood—this scruffy little rat-dog.” I huff, my lips curling from the memory. I miss him. “He said it was because of my hair since it was… I don’t even know. I’d play hard and get it all sorts of fucked up.” 

The thought of my dad makes something inside me sink with a heavy weight. Everytime I try to recall his face, I can only picture how he looked in the one picture framed on top of my dresser. It’s like his memory is fading, his face blurring as I try to recall certain moments. 

“Do you…” Chris hesitates, his fingers fiddling with a lego piece. “Do you still miss him?” he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard him speak before. 

Nodding, I let out a strangled hum of affirmation. “Yeah—I, yeah. It’s weird. I know it’s been years since I lost him, but it’s so… I don’t know. Every memory I’ve had with him—it’s all I’ll ever have. I think that’s what hurts the most.” I say, tugging my lip in between my teeth as I feel my body slug with disappointment. 

A sudden warmth callusing over my knee makes my head turn. I look over to see Chris, his eyes gleaming onto me as he spares a sympathetic smile. 

His fingers slowly buffer over the fabric of my clothes, his touch getting lighter as he lets out a deep sigh. “I get that. I’m trying to come to terms with it. Honestly, it still doesn’t seem real.” he guffs. 

His eyes drift to my lap. I watch as his cheeks hollow, his tongue prodding from the inside of his mouth as his presence gets lost in thought. 

“Tell me about them.” I remark. 

Shaking his head, Chris opens his mouth to respond, closing it before any words can escape. I reach my hand out, balancing it over his as the weight rests on my knee. My eyes blink into his intently. “It’s one of my biggest regrets. I wish I never let any of those memories die. You don’t have to tell me, but—”

“Well,” Chris starts, biting his lip as his brows furrow. I squeeze his hand reassuringly, keeping my gaze focused on him. He seems to fight the urge to say anything, but a deep sigh as he looks towards the ceiling makes my spine straighten as I give him my attention fully.  

“I… I don’t know where to even start.” he mentions, his lip quivering before he pulls it between his teeth. 

My skin pulses as I lean further towards him. I collapse my head onto his shoulder, peeling my gaze away from him in hopes of helping his anxiety ease. “There’s no pressure.” I mutter. 

The slight shift of his hand on my knee leaves me bathing in anticipation. He turns his hand over, interlocking our fingers, sighing as the words begin to spill out of his mouth. 

“I mean, my mom is–was everything to me. I’d hug her in the morning, hug her at night—even though most kids our age don’t do that shit, I—I don’t know. When I love people, I want them to know.” he explains. 

God. He’s so sweet—a word I thought contradicted his personality at first, but now I know the truth. And the truth is he’s perfect. He’s just hurt—just a little lost, confused even. 

He reminds me of myself. Both in good and bad ways. He seems to close people off, quick to pull away before he has the chance to lose someone again. 

There’s a certain bitterness from his attitude that resonates with me. 

“That’s really beautiful.” I say, softly rolling my lips together as I watch his nose twitch, his eyes drifting to my lap. “I… I used to be the same way too. I’d always run to my dad the second he got home from work, giving him the biggest hug I could and begging him to never let go.” 

Chris lets his eyes float back up to me. His face falls, his eyes glazing over as he blinks quickly. I feel myself sink into reality, the sudden urge to cry climbing over me and pulling my body to slump with defeat. “I don’t remember the last time I hugged him, but I—I really wish I did.” I mumble, my voice wombling as I swallow thickly. 

“Hey,” he husks, looking into my eyes with a comforting expression etched on his face. “You don’t have to remember the last time. Just tell me about all the times you do remember. I… I wanna listen. I don’t think I’m ready to talk anymore, but I’m ready—I wanna listen.” he whispers. 

My heart twists in my chest from his words—words I’ve wanted to hear since I lost my dad in the first place, words that should’ve been said by my mom or my brother, but nobody ever wanted to hear it. I couldn’t understand why, all I could understand was that it hurt—and it still hurts. 

But his soft eyes make it hurt a little less. The grip he has on my hand clutches just a little bit tighter, the comforting reassurance making the words stumble out of my mouth effortlessly. 

“Well,” I trail, voyaging off into details of him, letting myself dig deeper into my memories. 

Half the words that spill from my lips seem new—moments I didn’t even know I remembered until they burst through my lips from a sudden flash of a memory. 

Each story trails to another, each moment making my heart feel a little more full. 

His eyes darting into mine don’t make me anxious, they make me feel heard—understood. 

My lips fall together as I breathe through my nose. The rambling of my words seems to make my ears burn, my cheeks warming up as I stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Sorry.” I mumble, biting on the tip of my tongue lightly. 

Chris shakes his head swiftly, clutching my hand a little more as his eyes glaze over me with a gentle glow. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, scooting closer as he wraps both his hands around mine and tugging it towards his chest. 

“Tell me more.”

[terraswallows]

Had an encounter today with a transphobic asshole.

So, this guy—big neckbeard looking dude, reeked of sweat and cheap deodorant. Like i mean full neckbeard, beer belly, sunglasses, the works—walks into the store where I work wearing a "Make America Great Again" hat while waiting for his family to buy a chess set. I know the family; they’re super chill, but apparently, this guy is their uncle or something.

While I’m ringing up the chess set, the mom compliments my nails and asks where I got them done. We’re chatting when this guy walks over and, with zero hesitation, says, "Real men don’t get their nails done. You one of them faggit types?"

I was so caught off guard that I barely had time to react before the mom nervously tried to brush it off, telling me to excuse him for being rude.

After taking a moment to collect myself, I just smiled and said, "It’s fine, these things happen. And you’re right—real men don’t get their nails done. But I’m not a real man. Well… not really. I’m actually transfemme."

His face twisted in confusion until his eyes landed on my trans flag belt. That’s when his expression shifted.

Before he could say anything, the mom smiled at me and said I looked wonderful. But then the guy grunted and muttered, "Ugh, it’s one of them. No wonder… I’m glad he’s doing what he’s doing. You people need to be stopped."

I was still processing that garbage when the mom apologized again, quickly packing up the chess set in a bag she’d brought. She said they’d be leaving now since they didn’t want to cause a scene.

But of course, the guy wasn’t done. He kept going: "You know, he’s right. Your kind really is a problem. We can’t have you corrupting our kids."

Through clenched teeth, I gave him my best customer service smile and said, "Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. However, I’m going to have to ask you to leave." Then I turned to the woman and said, "I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I hope you have a wonderful day."

The guy tried to keep ranting, but the mom snatched his hat off his head and dragged him out of the store, muttering under her breath about how he just had to do this here, on her kid’s birthday, of all days.

Later, my boss came over and asked if everything was okay. I nodded, but honestly? It’s infuriating. The same hate is spreading here, too (for context I live in South Africa). The bullshit happening in America is bleeding into everything and everywhere.

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part sixteen: what could've been, and what will be

word count: 2.5k

warnings: like (1) bad pun.

fifteen | sixteen | seventeen

When he came to pick her up after a 12-hour shift, Lando noticed the difference in her the second she slid into the passenger seat.

Normally, she had a small, tired but genuine smile for him—sometimes teasing, sometimes warm, always there. Usually, she had a habit of greeting him with something—an offhand comment about the weather, a tired but amused remark about her classes, or even just a quiet hi paired with a small smile.

But today, she barely said a word.

Instead, she dropped her bag onto the floor, fastened her seatbelt, and gazed out the window, lost in her own head. Today, she was quiet. Tucked into herself. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her bag, gaze distant.

He didn’t like it.

“Got your grade back on your project?” he asked as he pulled out onto the street.

She blinked, seeming to register him for the first time, and mustered a half-hearted smile. “Mm. Something like that.”

The way she said it told him she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate. Lando, of course, didn’t take the hint.

Lando drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled onto the road. He wasn’t exactly great at this whole… people thing, but even he could tell she was off.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy,” he remarked casually. “That bad of a day?”

She blinked, as if she’d only just remembered he was there. “Hm?”

Lando shot her a quick look before returning his eyes to the road. “You’re quiet.”

She exhaled, rubbing at her temples. “I’m just tired.”

Lando hummed. He knew bullshit when he heard it.

Usually, he’d let things go. He wasn’t the type to push—never had been. But for some reason, today, he couldn’t just leave it alone.

“You sure?” he asked, keeping his voice light. “Because no offense, but you look like you’re about three seconds away from having an existential crisis.”

That earned him the ghost of a smile, but it was faint. Still, it gave him enough encouragement to press just a little further.

“…Wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated. That wasn’t like her. Usually, when she had a bad day, she’d at least have something to say about it. But this time, her voice was polite, distant. She was missing the usual warmth she carried, and Lando found himself gripping the wheel a little tighter.

“Want me to make fun of your professors until you feel better?” he offered, hoping for even a ghost of a smile. “I can do that. I’m very talented.”

She gave a small huff of amusement, but it was weak. “Tempting.”

He frowned.

Something about the way she said it, how she still wasn’t looking at him, how her fingers played absently with the strap of her bag—he didn’t like it. It wasn’t her.

They hit a red light, and he took the moment to glance at her properly. “You wanna talk about it?”

A noncommittal shrug.

“Alright, I’m making an executive decision. I think you need a laugh.” He cleared his throat. “Did you hear about the guy who got hit with a can of soda?”

That earned him a slight side-eye. “No?”

“He was lucky it was a soft drink.”

A beat of silence. Then she let out a soft breath—almost a laugh, but not quite. “That was… awful. Like, actually awful.”

“That was brilliant,” Lando corrected, feigning offense. “Here, let me try another—”

“Liam.”

He quieted at the way she said his name—not annoyed, not impatient, just... tired.

His grip on the wheel tightened as he spared her a glance. “You… alright?”

She hesitated, then, much to his surprise, actually answered. “Do you ever feel like... like you made the wrong choice?” As soon as the words left her mouth, her demeanor shifted– more reserved, more nervous.

Lando frowned slightly. “What do you mean? Like, in what?”

“In… I don’t know. Life.” She sighed, looking down at her lap. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just coasting.”

The light turned green, but Lando didn’t move right away. The road was empty enough at this hour of the evening, but he had to force himself to focus on the road again, watching her from the corner of his eye as he drove.

“I thought you liked what you were studying?”

“I do,” she said quickly. Then, after a beat, “Or, I did. I think.”

She let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head.

She exhaled, her fingers still fidgeting with the band of her bracelet. “Has it ever been like– like you thought you knew what you wanted, and then, suddenly, it’s like... maybe you don’t? Or maybe you do, but it’s too late, or too complicated, or just... not possible anymore?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth one after another, like the ideas had been whirring around inside for long that they had begun to overflow. There was something painfully raw in the way she said it, like the words had been clawing at her for a while.

Lando’s voice was quieter when he replied. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”

She nodded absently, looking out the window. “I used to want to go to law school.”

That caught him off guard. “You did?”

“Yeah.” She let out a small, humorless chuckle. “It was the whole reason I left. I moved out thinking I could do it. That if I worked hard enough, it’d happen.” 

She shook her head, pressing her fingers to her temple. “But I don’t know. Between tuition, rent, working just to keep myself afloat... I feel like I’m just coasting through life now. Like law school is just this thing that I wanted in another life, and now I have to be realistic. Because being realistic means not drowning.”

Lando frowned. “Law school?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Somehow, he hadn’t known that. He wasn’t sure why it surprised him.

She let out a humorless chuckle. “I used to think I could do it. But now, it just feels… impossible. Like I’ll never actually get there, like it’s just not realistic right now.”

Lando didn’t respond right away.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Encouragement didn’t really come naturally to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to lie to her and tell her it’d all magically work out. But at the same time…

He hated the look in her eyes.

That quiet kind of hopelessness—the kind he recognized all too well.

So, instead of some empty platitude, he just said, “That why you been stuck in your head all day?”

She nodded.

Lando sighed, slowing to a stop at a red light.

Then, after a moment, he glanced at her. “So what are you gonna do?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You said it doesn’t feel realistic right now.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it never will be.”

She looked at him, searching his expression like she wasn’t sure if he was being serious.

Lando turned his gaze back to the road. “If it’s something you actually want, then you’ll figure it out. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but eventually.”

She didn’t say anything right away. But he could tell she was thinking.

After a long pause, she murmured, “You make it sound simple.”

Lando snorted. For a moment, Lando didn’t say anything else. Then, after a moment, he said, “That’s shit.”

She let out a startled laugh. “Excuse me?”

“That’s shit,” he repeated, shooting her a look. “Like, respectfully. You don’t just—just let go of something you want because things are hard. You figure out a way. You don’t give up.”

She huffed, shaking her head. “It’s not giving up, it’s called being practical. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Sounds t’me like a fancy way of saying you’re giving up,” he muttered.

She turned to face him fully now, brow furrowed. “It’s not that simple, Liam. I can’t just—” She groaned, rubbing her face. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it.”

She paused. He wasn’t teasing her. His tone was softer now—earnest, even.

For the first time since she got in the car, she really looked at him. And for some reason, that was the thing that made her throat feel tight.

She turned away again, swallowing. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

Lando was quiet for a beat. Then, keeping his eyes on the road, he said, “If you don’t get your hopes up, how the hell are you ever supposed to reach for them?”

She didn’t have an answer for that. So she just sat there, staring out the window, feeling something crack open in her chest.

Lando snorted. “It’s not. But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.”

She was quiet again, but this time, something about her expression had shifted—just slightly.

And when she finally turned to face him, there was something softer in her gaze.

“Thanks,” she said, voice sincere.

Lando just shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

Lando didn’t know much about law school. Or tuition. Or— honestly, any of that.

But what he did know was the way her voice softened when she said it, like it was something she had already half-grieved. He knew what it sounded like to kill a dream before it even had the chance to start, and something about that made his stomach twist.

“…Do you still want it?” he asked after a long pause.

She inhaled slowly, staring ahead. “Honestly? I don’t know if I can afford to want it.”

Lando was quiet for a moment.

He didn’t know shit about the law. He only knew how to break it. But he knew one thing for damn sure:

If she wanted to be a lawyer, then she was going to be the best fucking lawyer the world had ever seen.

Damn it all to hell.

What followed was only natural. At least, that’s what Lando told himself.

Sure, at first, it was just the drives—Lando picking her up from work when it was late or driving her home after class. But more recently, he’d begun to have something a little different in mind.

He was strategic about it, the way all good business ventures are. It started small, a short trail of breadcrumbs – a text asking if she wanted to grab coffee before a morning lecture. A casual offer to drop by the shop even when she wasn’t working, just to sit for a bit and pretend he was a normal customer. A shared glance when they ran into each other outside their usual settings, neither of them acknowledging how often it was happening now.

And then there were nights like this.

She was curled up on the couch in the back of Brews & Books, her laptop open on the coffee table, surrounded by stacks of notes and half-highlighted textbooks. Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth, brows furrowed in concentration, a pen twirling absently between her fingers.

Alex came up to her, slipping on a light jacket as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ve gotta head out, got my mock presentation on Materials Engineering for Impact Resistance tomorrow morning. Exciting stuff, I know, but I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

She peeled her gaze away from the notebook she’d been scrawling in to turn and look up at him, giving him a warm smile as she peers up at him. “Alright, then. Good luck, Professor Albon,” she teases, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she laughed at his fake annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex smiled, rolling his eyes at the nickname but ultimately unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “Call me if you need anything?”

“You know I will,” she nods, watching him walk out the door before turning her attention back to the notes in front of her.

Lando, meanwhile, sat across from her, pretending to read over one of her case studies while he waited for her to wrap up to take her home, though most of the words blurred together after a while.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is a nightmare.”

“What, the assignment?”

She let out a small, dry laugh. “No, my entire degree.”

Right, that.

Lando smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Well, you’re the one who chose it, genius.”

She shot him a half-hearted glare before slumping forward, resting her chin on her arms. “I just feel like no matter how much I study, I’m always behind.”

“Sounds fake,” Lando said. “You’re smart.”

She snorted. “Flattery won’t help me pass constitutional law.”

“Sure it will. It just depends on who you’re flattering.”

That actually got a small laugh out of her, which felt like a victory. But then, just as quickly, her frustration returned. She reached for another textbook, flipping through the pages with a sigh.

Lando tapped his fingers against the spine of the book he was pretending to read. The truth was, most of it didn’t make much sense to him. He had never been much of a reader, and legal jargon might as well have been in a foreign language.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

“You know,” he said after a moment, tilting his head, “I could help.”

She arched a brow. “You?”

“Yeah, me.” He shot her a look. “What, you think I’m just an idiot who knows how to drive fast?”

She hesitated, and Lando gasped dramatically.

“Oh my God. You do think that.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “I mean, I just didn’t peg you as a liberal arts kind of guy.”

That’s fair.

“I can still help,” he insisted, tapping a finger against the page. “Here, explain this to me like I’m five.”

She gave him a wary look, but eventually, she sat up, rolling her shoulders back. “Alright. So, this case is about the principle of judicial review and how it establishes the court’s ability to declare laws unconstitutional…”

Lando nodded along, doing his best to follow. He watched as she talked, her hands moving animatedly as she explained.

And maybe he wasn’t absorbing all of it—maybe some of the bigger words still made his brain stall for a second—but he liked listening to her. He liked the way her face lit up a little when she talked about something she understood, the way she kept glancing at him to make sure he was following along.

“ –which means that that court gets the final word on whether the old decisions were correct and should still stand, or if it’s all moot because the state action was unconstitutional in the first place,” she concluded, leaning back. “Make sense?”

Lando blinked. “Yes.”

She raised a brow.

“Sure.”

An expression of incredulousness.

“Maybe”

A deadpan look.

“...A little?”

She groaned, head tilting back against the couch.

“But hey,” he added quickly, grinning, “it sounded good.”

She threw a crumpled-up sticky note at him, and he dodged, laughing.

It was stupid, really. He knew he wasn’t much help. He knew he probably never would be, not in the way she needed. But if sitting here with her, nodding along, letting her talk things through—if that even made one percent of a difference—then that was enough for him.