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greengoblinswifey · 6 months ago

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Deprived— FratBoy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you and nicholas have been together for a month and everything has been perfect, except, he’s now touch deprived because you’ve both been busy with university duties.

warnings— established relationship, fluff, sub!nicholas then dom!nicholas, possessive!nicholas, fingering, strip tease, face sitting, face fucking, ass slapping, unprotected sex(wrap it up irl), praise kink, bondage, gagging, creampie, cockwarming.

a/n— thank you guys for 3000+ followers, it means the world to me i love writing🫶🏽requests are open for this au, nicholas and all other characters i’ve written for🫶🏽

Nicholas arrived at your dorm, his hands full of flowers and a basket loaded with little surprises. He couldn’t help but grin, taking in the sight of you.

“Happy one month, baby,” he said, holding out the basket of gifts and the flowers.

“Aw, Nick!”you exclaimed, stepping forward to kiss him. It was a quick, warm kiss, but it had him lingering for more, his heart pounding and his cock suddenly hard. But just as he hoped for something more you pulled away, setting the flowers on your desk. “Thank you so much. You're so sweet, these are beautiful,” you murmured before diving back into your notes.

Nicholas tried to be patient, settling himself on your bed as he watched you work. But after a while, he couldn’t hold back his thoughts. “So, remember the first time we hung out here?” he asked grinning a little.

You glance up with a smirk, remembering. “How could I forget?” He remembered it so clearly — the intensity, the way you’d led him every step of the way, taking his virginity and making him feel like he was the only one in the world. He knew since then that you were the woman for him. You were his first and last.

Nicholas sat on the bed, watching you work, trying to keep his focus on anything but his growing desire. Finally, he blurted out, “I miss you.”

You glanced up, confused. “Sweetheart, you see me almost every day. What do you mean you miss me?”

He shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks slightly flushed. “I mean, I miss, uh, doing—you know.”

A smirk spread across your face as you abandoned your work to straddle him, fingers brushing his hair back. “Use your words, Nicholas. You miss doing what?”

He hesitated, then, eyes dark, murmured, “I miss, um, fucking you.”

You laughed softly, leaning in close. “I didn’t realize you were this touch-deprived,” you teased, noting how he was already hard with barely a touch. “Tell you what, let me finish everything up, and then you’ll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?”

He sighed but nodded, “I think I can work with that.” He gave you one last lingering look. “Be ready for our anniversary dinner at seven, alright?”

At seven, Nicholas arrived, ever the gentleman, opening doors and pulling out your chair just like he did on your first date. Throughout dinner, you kept sending him teasing looks, trailing your fingers over his hand, letting your gaze linger, and even giving his knee a gentle squeeze under the table.

“Everything’s going to be fine when we get back,” you murmured, watching his face as he swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure.

On the drive back, you felt tipsy and mischievous. You let your hand drift to his thigh, rubbing over his hard cock in his pants. His breathing grew heavier, and he muttered, “You’re making it hard to drive like this.”

You just laughed, leaning in close, your hand still caressing his bulge. “Focus on the road, baby.”

He was barely holding on by the time you reached your dorm. As soon as the door closed, he was on you, pushing you gently back against the door, his mouth finding yours in a hungry kiss. His hands trailed up your sides, gripping your waist as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

You leaned back from the kiss, giving Nicholas a teasing smile. “Fuck, you’re so needy,” you murmured.

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes dark with desire. “Of course I am,” he replied, voice rough, “when I’m around someone as beautiful as you, my girlfriend, and I can’t have you right then and there.”

A shiver ran through you as his hand slipped under your dress, fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he pulled you closer. His gaze was intense, his lips barely inches from yours as he murmured, “You’re mine. I should be able to take what’s mine.”

With that, he hiked your dress up, his eyes locking onto yours as his fingers slipped inside you. Your breath hitched as his fingers teased and explored, a delicious pressure building as he kept his gaze steady, watching your every reaction.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent, “I want to see you when you fall apart.”

“Nick,” you moaned, as his fingers sped up and his thumb began rubbing your clit.

You could barely hold back, gripping his shoulders as your body responded to every movement of his fingers, finally reaching an orgasm that had you gasping as you squirted all over his fingers. He knew exactly how to make you feel good.

“Taste yourself,” he murmured. You held on to his hand, sucking your juices off his fingers before you took them in deeper.

“Wow, you’re amazing,” he whispered.

You gave him another kiss on the lips before leading him over to your bed and putting him to sit. He watched in awe as you swayed your hips and slowly removed your clothing including the lingerie you had on underneath.

“You’re a-absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered, the dent in his pants growing more than he thought it ever could. You were completely bare and before him, your body he believed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. “I missed this so much,” he said, in between kissing your body, “I need you to sit on my face.”

“Beg me then,” you whispered, your hand in his hair.

“F- fuck, please baby, I need you to sit on my face. Need you so bad, I need it,” he whimpered. You loved when he was like this. Lips pouty, face red and his eyes dark with desire.

“Good boy, now lay back.” As eager as ever, he lay back, but not before loosening his tie and taking off his shirt. He looked so fine all dressed up for you. His hands gripped your hips, making sure you were flat on his mouth, just where he wanted you.

“Baby, oh my god that feels good,” you cried out. He was a man possessed, his tongue circled your clit, flicking it and sucking, making you feel unimaginable pleasure. His mouth engulfed your pussy, eating you out like he was starved—well he was. It didn’t take much and you held on to his hair, grinding as he sucked and licked and soon you were convulsing on top of him, your high overtaking you.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” he murmured, not stopping even when you already came. He continued and you held on to his hair for dear life, crying out as the pleasure became almost too much.

“O-oh, I think I’m gonna cum again,” you moaned. You felt him smirk below you and just as predicted, you squirted all over his face. You definitely had to change your sheets the next morning.

“Good girl, that’s my baby, just gushing for me, you love sitting on my face, don’t you?” You nodded instinctively, now ready to give him a taste of pleasure.

He stood up and you fell to your knees, unbuckling his belt and freeing his cock as you looked up at him with lust blown eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, looking down at you. Even then he couldn’t believe a girl like you gave a guy like him a chance.

“So are you baby,” you smiled, admiring his hard cock in your hands. It almost looked painful.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moaned loudly. You giggled as you immediately took his cock into the back of your throat. The taste of his pre cum made you moan in content and you continued sucking, playing with his balls as he struggled to quiet his little whimpers.

“C-can I, uh, fuck your throat?” he asked, “it’s okay if you don’t want to, I- I just heard some of the guys in the frat talk about doing it,” he asked, shyly.

“Of course baby, we can try anything,” you smiled, taking his cock out of your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting you.

As soon as you gave permission, he gripped your hair and thrusted into your throat. Your nails dug into his thighs as he thrusted steadily, making sure you could still be able to breathe. You caressed his balls as he did, earning breathy moans. The sight of you on your knees for him, pre cum and saliva dripping down your chin was enough to make him shoot his load into your throat. You swallowed every drop of his cum, using your hands to milk him of everything he had.

“Oh shit,” he moaned, “I never get tired of seeing you do that.”

You smiled at him but thoughts were swirling in your head, he was new to all of this and it was your job to teach him the kinkier side of things.

“Get your tie and bound my hands behind my back,” you said.

“Uh, are you s-sure?” he asked, face now red with a surprised expression.

“Yes baby, I’m sure, now take up your tie,” you responded. You arched your back, your hands behind you, waiting for him to tie them.

Soon, you felt the bed dip and the feeling of the tie going around your wrists. “Is this okay? I don’t want it to be too tight and hurt you.”

“That’s okay baby.” He hummed in response and you moaned as the leaking head of his cock ran up and down your folds. He slipped inside your slick pussy, both of you moaning in unison.

“You look so fucking sexy like this,” he said, slapping your ass and surprising you. You were enjoying this kinkier side of him.

He held you by your tied wrists, slamming into you from behind. The angle made him go deep, and all you could think about was how good his cock felt.

“You’re doing so good for me baby,” you cried, “faster.”

He obeyed, his hips meeting your ass faster as he thrusted into you, your pussy gripping him as his cock disappeared inside you.

“S-so so tight,” he whimpered, losing himself in the pleasure of it all.

“That’s right baby, and it’s all yours, whose pussy is this?”

“Mine baby, all mine,” he moaned, and with that, you clenched tightly around his dick, creaming all over it.

“Good boy, you make me feel so good, now untie me and sit,” you said, having another idea in mind.

He did as he was told and as you took up the tie, eyeing it and then Nicholas.

“W-what are you gonna do to me?” he inquired nervously.

“Nothing too crazy, I’m just going to gag you, is that okay sweetheart? Do you want that?”

He nodded slowly, heart rising in his cheeks. He had heard his frat brothers talk about gagging girls, never the other way around but, he was different from them. He wanted to be the one gagged.

“Words baby, I need you to tell me what you want.”

“Yes, I want you to gag me,” he answered and you grinned, placing a passionate kiss on his lips before stuffing his own tie in his mouth.

“That’s my good boy, so obedient,” you smirked. You straddled him, rubbing his tip across your pussy. He let out a muffled whimper, feeling your juices drain down the base of his cock.

“Mm-mm,” he mumbled through the tie.

“I can’t hear you baby, you’re gonna have to speak up for me,” you laughed.

He protested through the tie but a muffled moan interrupted him as you slowly sank down on his hard cock. You gripped his shoulders, surely to leave claw marks as he stretched you out and you tried to take as much of him inside you as you could.

“Best dick I’ve ever had sweetheart.”

You began bouncing on his cock, his eyes going from your tits moving, to your face contorting in pleasure to his dick disappearing inside your pussy. His muffled whimpers only willed you further and you continued bouncing, whispering praises in his ear.

“Take it like a good boy.”

“Happy anniversary baby, I promise you won’t go this long without being inside me ever again.”

“I love your cock baby.”

“F-fuck this is my dick.”

“You make me feel so good.”

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he gripped your waist lightly, lost in the feeling of your pussy gripping him ever so tightly. He could feel the head of his cock practically touch your cervix and constantly be coated in your juices.

“Hold me baby, hold me close, I’m gonna cum,” you cried, gripping his shoulder tightly.

He did as you instructed, pulling you close and thrusting up into you as you squirted and creamed on his cock. The combination made him lose control and he moaned and grunted into the tie, releasing his load deep inside your pussy. He held you close, slowly thrusting up into you, making sure your grip milked him of all his load until you both fell onto the bed with you on top of him and his cock buried deep inside you.

You removed the tie from his mouth and placed a kiss on his lips as he panted. “That was so hot, you’re amazing.” You smiled and placed another kiss on his lips before laying on his chest.

“We’re gonna stay like this all night okay,” you said, snuggling into him, still feeling his cock pulse inside you.

“Happy anniversary again beautiful,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head, “best gift ever.”

“You’re everything to me Nicholas.”

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kyluff · 1 year ago

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— ↺ ‘When He Eat The Cookie He Got Good Form’

✎ luffy + zoro + sanji x reader !

✦ summary ➠ one piece men eating you out blurbs

✦ warnings ➠ nsfw, cunnilingus, swearing, almost getting caught

✦ note ➠ 3000+ LIKES ON MY CLINGY GOJO POST?!? thats actually insane, I’m so happy thank you for all the support 😨🫶

✪ Monkey D. Luffy

— You felt shaking, hands were on you and vigorously pushing and pulling you. Your eyes weren’t open yet, they couldn’t, you were just sleeping a few seconds ago and now you were being rudely awaken. Keeping your eyes closed, you called out for your boyfriend.

“What, what is it Luffy?” You sighed, shoving your face further in the blanket, trying to go back to the time when you were still sound asleep. “It’s still nighttime, go back to bed.”

He whined out, nuzzling his face in your neck. “But I’m hungry.”

Of course he is, you shook your head in annoyance. “That’s what you woke me up for? Wait and eat in the morning like the rest of us.”

Luffy licked your cheek, leaving heavy and warm breaths on it. He always was so impatient when he wanted something, especially when hunger was what he wanted. “But I cant.”

You were shocked, you really shouldn’t be though, he was obsessed with food to point where it was slightly unhealthy. You forcefully shoved his face away from you, making him fall on his side of the bed. “Well too bad, now go to sleep.”

“I can’t, not when I’m so hungry.” He huffed out, sounding defeated by his own words, at least it seemed like he was done with this stunt. But you felt bad a little bit, if he was so hungry that he couldn’t even sleep, then that’s an issue.

“If you’re really that hungry go to the kitchen.” That was the final thing you were going to say, now you were for real going to sleep.

You felt him shuffling beside you and the bed swaying from his movement. It melt like he was moving down the bed, making it to the foot of it. You ignored him, just wanting this to be over.

He disappeared under to covers for a minute, lifting your leg and placing himself between them. “Why would I go to the kitchen? My foods already right here.”

For the first time that night your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to adjust to the environment. You reached in the dark for the light, turning it on and removing the cloth that separated the two of you, bLuffy was there, resting his cheek on your thigh. He had a lazy and goofy smile on his face like he always did, but his eyes were different. His eyes stared into your soul, hunger definitely evident in his gaze.

“Oh,” That’s all you could say, you had just been waken and had to face this. “You’re that type of hungry.”

The man between your limbs nodded eagerly, relieved that you had finally understood him. He had awoken in the middle of the night and the feeling washed over him, he couldn’t sleep after that, he needed you.

“Well, eat then.” That’s all it took for him rip off your shorts and underwear, revealing you to him. You could never deny your boyfriend, even if it was so late, not when he looked so longingly up at you.

He delve in instantly, not being able to wait any longer. His mouth was wide open against your folds, sucking and nudging them how ever he wished. Luffy didn’t focus on anywhere in particular when he ate you out, he liked to pay attention to every part of you down there, making it a messy operation, your juices spread across his face and everywhere on your thighs.

“Oh-h, so good.” This session Luffy seemed to really want it, he was licking so aggressively and tugged harshly at your lips. You weren’t complaining, the pleasure was almost unbearable.

It wasn’t till he placed a bite on your clit that you felt the beginnings of your end. He’s never done this before, but the new found trick brought you dangerously close to your climax.

“Do it again!” You pleaded, wanting to feel that same sensation from before. And he listened, using his canine to squish your bud, he lapped at the same spot to soothe it. You came undone, Luffy crawled up your body and dropped onto your chest, you noticed he had a soft grin on his face.

“You really were hungry, huh?” Your fingers started playing and twirling mindlessly with his hair.

“Mhm.” He hummed, closing his eyes from the comfort he received at the mercy of your hands. You too shut your eyes, being able to sleep again.

✪ Roronoa Zoro

— If there was one thing you knew about your boyfriend, it was how much he liked eating pussy. He’d eat it from the back, he’d eat it in sixty nine, he’d eat in the shower. He would literally do it anywhere at anytime. A position he hadn’t tried though was you sitting on his face.

So right now, he decided that you were going to sit on his face, but you were having some difficulty with that. You hovered over his awaiting mouth, using the headboard of the bed to hold yourself up.

“Sit on my face already.” He wrapped his buff arms around your thighs, attempting to pull you down on his face.

“Z-Zoro, don’t you think I’ll be to heavy?” You quivered, not letting him win the tug of war you were having.

“Don’t care,” The greened haired man loosened his grip, letting you raise slightly. “Just want to taste you.”

You bit your lip, thinking about how desperate his expression looked, you could tell he really wanted this and who were you to deny? You reluctantly lowered yourself closer to his face, making sure not to have your whole weight on him.

His lips chased yours, coming up to meet your dripping core where it was above him. He slowly made out with it, messily sucking and slurping. He quickly shook his face in your heat, spreading the juices he has created.

“Fucking come here.” His words were muffled against your skin as he forced you to fully sit down on his face. Your cheeked flushed in embarrassment, worrying if you were to much for your boyfriend to bare. You tried to get off, but the strong arms on your legs kept you in place.

“Zoro!” You whimpered, grasp tightening on the wooden frame.

He only carried on, now comfortable with the position you were in, nice and snug to his face. His tongue worked quick and tight circles on your bud, not stopping until he heard a moan rip from your vocal cords.

You glanced down on him through your droopy eyes, he was also looking up at you. His eyes always stood out to you, they were always stern and fierce, staring right through you.

He kept eye contact with you as he face moved deeper into you, his nose becoming smaller in size. Your stomach did flips in response, contracting as you felt tingling down there.

He smiled into you, he could see how much you liked sitting on his face, and to think on how you were so against it before.

His grin became bigger as he noticed how close you were, this might be the quickest he’s ever made you come.

Picking up his pace, he pushed you over the edge until you came undone onto his smushed face. “How do you like the new position now?”

✪ Vinsmoke Sanji

— You were becoming very annoyed at your boyfriends current antics, he’s been at it for what it felt like hours now. You sat on a chair in the kitchen, attempting to enjoy the beautiful meal that Sanji had prepared for you. That task was almost impossible though, due to the man that was positioned at your feet in front your chair.

“For the tenth time, Sanji, the answer is no.” You huffed out, stabbing another piece of food with your fork.

“Please, Y/n! Just one taste!” He begged, smushing his blushing face against your exposed knee. You had decided to wear a skirt today as it was very warm outside, it seemed to have an affect on the blonde man.

“I’m trying to eat, can’t you wait until I’m at least finished?” You wiggled your leg, trying to shake the man attached to your knee off of you.

His grasp became harder, slowing your movements until they stopped totally. His face moved closer, it reached the hem of your skirt where he brought his fingers to fidget with it softly. “I can’t wait, need it right now.”

Normally you wouldn’t put up such a fuss, but you were in the kitchen, anyone could walk in whenever they wanted. “Sanji, what if someone came in? Like if Luffy got hungry and ran in, what then?”

“I’ll be quick, promise.” He started laying quick kisses on your thighs, his eyes still looked at you from below waiting for your response.

You thought about it for a moment, sighing in defeat. “You promise?” He nodded eagerly, eyes filled with lust as he glanced up at you. You nodded your head in agreement, once you gave him the go ahead he immediately flipped your skirt and dived straight in, head disappearing under the flowy material.

At first he kissed you through the cloth that separated him from your bare pussy, his breath was warm when it fanned onto you. He pulled your underwear off, revealing everything to him.

For some reason unknown to you as you couldn’t see Sanji because of your bottoms he paused in his tracks, not going further.

“You said you’d be fast, get on with it and eat me out already.” You gave him time to resume his prior actions but when he refused and stayed in his place, you threw the skirt up off his head. “What are yo-”

“Just admiring my pretty girl.” Anyone would assume that he was referring to you, but you knew what he was talking about and it wasn’t your face. It was your cunt.

“Shut up.” You forced his face into your core, you couldn’t look at him any longer, just thinking about his words made a wave of heat form in your lower stomach.

Your boyfriend didn’t protest, starting to lick long strips up your slit, sucking on your bud when he reached it at the end. He repeatedly did this until he felt your juices slipping everywhere, now your hole was ready for his tongue. He slipped it inside, letting it slowly slide in to its full length.

You whimpered in response, hands flying to his yellow hair. “Keep going.”

He listened to your pleads, swirling his muscle around in circles before pulling out and searching upwards for your buzzing clit. You felt his lips wrap around it, applying suction on it, during all of this the tip of his tongue poked through his lips and flicked at your bud.

“So close, Sanji!” Your legs enclosed on his torso, trapping him. His actions became faster, suction harder and flicking harsher. It was all too much for your aching cunt, your climax was nearing.

Just as you were about to let go, you heard a voice coming from outside the door. “Sanji! I’m hungry when it food going to be ready!?”

“Have some patience Luffy, you pig!” He pulled away to yell at the pirate captain, stuffing his face back in like nothing had happened.

“Sanj-ji he’s going to walk in here!” You felt tears sting your eyes at the stressful situation that had a chance to occur, but the tears were also present in your eyes due to the fact that the feeling from before was back again.

The cook didn’t respond, eating you out the same as before the interruption. You panted, pawing at his locks as you came on Sanjis mouth.

He quickly licked it all up, placing your panties back on and flattened out your skirt to normal just in time before the energetic black haired boy came barreling through the kitchen doors.

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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You're on the Naughty List, Rooster | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley knows no limits when spoiling his family, especially for his daughter's first Christmas. When he's down to the wire getting everything ready, he lands himself on the naughty list. He'll do whatever it takes to fix things, including calling on one of Santa's helpers for backup.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, smut, oral sex

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is a The Younger Kind one-shot, but it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

"What is this?" you asked, holding up a receipt that trailed from your outstretched hand all the way to the floor. "Because I know you didn't spend eight hundred dollars on toys on your way home from work today."

"Uh," Bradley replied, brow puckered. He looked up from his spot on the living room floor next to the Christmas tree where he was putting batteries into a remote control dinosaur. "It's, uh.... well, yeah, I did stop for a few more toys on the way home, but I only spent like seven hundred and sixty bucks..."

"Daddy!" you gasped. "Noah and Noelle already have way too much stuff! And we agreed to put money aside to go to Disney World next summer!"

Bradley rolled his eyes and waved his hand casually in the air. "Don't worry about that. This is Noelle's first Christmas, and I really wanted to spoil her."

You shook your head, balled up the receipt, and threw it at his head. But you were smiling. "Where are these toys?"

"In the Bronco," he muttered. "I was going to sneak them under the tree after you went to bed and hope you didn't notice that I got a few more things."

You deadpanned. "You don't know how to wrap gifts. They would have stuck out like a sore thumb," you muttered, sliding your feet into your slippers and pulling on Bradley's discarded sweatshirt.

Without another word, you slipped out into the crisp, cool night to retrieve everything. To your dismay, it took you several trips back to the living room before you got all of it.

"You are in so much trouble," you warned, pulling his sweatshirt off and crawling across the floor toward your husband. "You're on the naughty list."

"I'm not," he whispered. "I've been really good all year."

You pointed to the Elf on the Shelf which was perched on the windowsill next to the front door. "That's not what Skittles Junior told Santa. I saw the note he sent to the North Pole. Everyone was on the nice list except for you."

"Including Skittles Senior?" he asked, pulling you close until you were sitting halfway on his lap. The Yorkshire Terrier looked up from her napping spot under the Christmas tree, annoyed that they kept saying her name without offering a treat.

"Especially Skittles Senior," you confirmed.

Bradley wrapped his hands around your waist and whispered, "What if I bought my way onto the nice list?"

"How?" you asked, chin jutting into the air, playfully haughty.

Bradley leaned in, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. You had the softest skin, and he let himself indulge in some kisses before saying, "Maybe I already booked the trip to Disney World."

You gasped softly. "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Did you pick a nice hotel?"

"For my family? The nicest."

"And we get to go for a week?"

"A full seven days, Princess," he rasped, brown eyes reflecting the lights on the tree as you tipped his head back to examine his face.

"Let me check with the Elf," you whispered with a wink. You turned toward the window and asked, "Hey, Skittles Junior? You think we can let the old man slide this year? He wasn't too bad."

But Bradley was already easing you onto your back, right next to the snag in the area rug, while you laughed. "I know for a fact you're on the nice list. You're so nice, in fact, I'll let you have one of your presents early," he murmured. You bit your lip as he started to tug your pajama pants over your hips. "This is something I definitely wouldn't be able to figure out how to wrap." He kissed below your belly button, tossing your pants on top of his hoodie. "But I know it's something you like."

The tip of his nose tickled the waistband of your underwear before he started to pull them down as well. Then he kissed his way along your thigh, mustache prickling you as you shivered, pussy completely bare for him. "Daddy," you moaned softly, fingers grabbing at the rug while he held tight to your thigh and dragged his index finger along your slit.

His face was handsome in the glow from the multi-colored lights, gaze fixed on where he was stroking you. "You're so fucking pretty like this," he grunted, collecting your slick and circling your clit until you whimpered. His lips found the inside of your knee before he set your legs gently on his shoulders. You watched as he licked his finger clean, eyes closed in pleasure. "You taste like a Princess."

"I am a Princess," you replied, eyes flicking to the collection of paper crowns which your son added to the Christmas tree. Then your eyes slid closed as Bradley's tongue traced you from hole to hole before his lips sealed around your clit with just the perfect pressure.

"Oh, god," you whined as your fingers sunk into his thick hair. His broad shoulders kept you planted against the floor, pussy already fluttering with need as you tried to roll your hips for more.

"Just wait," he whispered, mustache dragging through your wetness. "Don't rush it."

"But it feels good," you whined loudly, tugging him by his hair. "More."

That's when he lifted you slightly off the rug, his big hand landing on your butt, spanking you one time. You sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the sting as he kissed the inside of your thigh. "I said don't rush it. Want you to make a mess."

"Oh." He was going to make you squirt. That was the gift he was giving you. Even now, you weren't sure how he managed to make it happen every time he put his mind to it, but you weren't mad about it. You tried your best to keep your hips still as he worked you up while his hands made their way to your waist.

He drew little circles against your skin where you were most self conscious after being pregnant with Noelle, but he never seemed to mind your stretch marks. He just kept at it, licking you up and down your slit with a steady pattern until you were starting to get loud. Then Bradley shoved two fingers inside and circled your clit with his thumb.

"Don't wake up the kids," he scolded playfully, guiding his body over yours while his hand worked at your pussy. The sounds were wet and indecent as he finger fucked you while you licked yourself from his lips and mustache. "God, you're so fucking sweet," he crooned, making you whine for him as he pulled away again.

As soon as his face was back between your legs, his lips took over for his thumb, and you knew you were close. His fingers felt thick and unrelenting, giving you the most delicious friction as he sucked on your clit. When his tongue swiped you, your back arched up from the rug, and your legs started to shake. When his fingers slowed, your vision blurred, creating a colorful mosaic from the Christmas lights as you clenched around him, your body trying to keep his fingers inside.

"Jesus," you gasped, riding his fingers, looking down at his face, lips still all over your pussy. "Daddy!"

You gushed on his face, and he moaned in pleasure, lapping up everything from your ass to your clit as you gasped and giggled, fingers pressed to your lips as you shakily rode out your orgasm.

"Merry Christmas, Princess," he crooned, teasing you with his fingers before removing them. He kissed your chin and your parted lips before letting you suck on his fingers while he sprawled out next to you. Your tongue cleaned him up, enjoying the taste of yourself on his rough hands before you rolled onto your side.

"You want me to wrap all of the extra toys you bought, don't you, Bradley?" you asked, voice shaky as he nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, I thought that was a given."

You laughed, but a few minutes later, you were once again dressed, wrapping presents until well after midnight. Bradley handed you the tape and scissors when you asked for them, and he made both of you mugs of hot cocoa when you needed a break. He told you his plans for the summer vacation to Florida, and you lined up the mound of toys for Noah and Noelle under the tree until you couldn't stop yawning.

"I don't know if I'm more tired from my orgasm or wrapping. Or both?" you asked, kissing him before standing. "But I'm going to bed."

"I'll be in after I put the mugs in the sink, Princess. I love you."

You stood and arched your back in the most alluring way before running your fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead. "Don't forget to move Skittles Junior to the tree for Christmas morning."

"Right. I'll take care of it," he grunted as you walked away, Skittles Senior trailing behind on her way to her puppy bed.

After straightening up the kitchen, Bradley took the time to clean up a few wrapping paper scraps and adjust some of the ornaments. The tree looked beautiful covered in homemade art projects you and Noah crafted together. The whole house had taken on a new life since he met you, and if you wanted to go to Disney World in the summer, he was going to make it the best trip ever.

"Get over here," he told the Elf on the Shelf, picking him up and searching for a good spot on the tree to hide him. "And I better be on the nice list tomorrow, Skittles Junior. There are a lot of things I want from my wife next year, if you catch my drift, buddy."

But Bradley took a wrong step trying to avoid the huge pile of presents that he bought. His eyes went wide as he reached for the tree, somehow managing to keep it and himself upright while the presents scattered noisily across the floor. He stood there silently, trying to regroup, but then he heard footsteps in the hallway.

"Daddy, did Santa come?"

Bradley turned in time to see Noah peek into the room, his brown eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. Then he burst into tears.

"What's wrong, Bub?" Bradley asked, scrambling around the presents to get to his son.

"You touched the Elf!" he wailed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Now Skittles Junior won't be magic anymore!"

Bradley tamped down the string of obscenities on the tip of his tongue and winced, throwing the Elf at the tree. "He's okay. See? He's in the tree now. He's just fine."

"No!" his son cried, dropping to the floor where Bradley joined him, trying to keep him quiet so he didn't wake you or Noelle. "He's not magic anymore!"

Fuck. Bradley had been setting up elaborate scenes involving the elf leaving flour footprints in the kitchen and dangling from dental floss in the bathroom for the entire month of December. He knew he wasn't allowed to get caught touching the damn thing.

"I'm pretty sure there's a way to fix his magic," he said, collecting the sobbing child against his chest.

Noah gasped for air as he said, "Someone at school told me the only way to get an elf to be magic again is if Santa sends a helper to sprinkle new magic on him. That's the only way."

Bradley tried to think of a solution to appease Noah, but he was beyond exhausted. "How about I take you back to bed, okay? Santa was clearly already here, but Mommy and Noelle are still asleep. We can open presents in a few hours-"

"No!" Noah protested, looking up at him. "I want to stay here with Skittles Junior until Santa sends a helper to give him back his magic!"

Bradley gritted his teeth. It was four in the morning. He wanted to be curled up next to your warm body in bed. He didn't know how the fuck to fix the elf as it dangled helplessly from the tree. But it was Christmas, and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his son.

"Right," Bradley agreed, scooping Noah up and settling onto the couch with him as a plan started to take shape. "How about you and I wait right here? I'm sure it won't take long."

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

When you woke up, the bed was cold. You could hear Noelle starting to fuss in her crib, so you went to her room before investigating where your husband could possibly be.

"Hey, Noelle," you whispered as she giggled and reached for you when you walked to her crib. Thankfully she was finally sleeping through the night now after getting a rough start. You kissed her forehead and changed her into a fresh diaper. "Merry Christmas," you told her, tickling her tummy, making her coo. "Let's find Noah and Daddy and make breakfast."

When you walked into the living room, you froze. The wrapped presents were all over the floor, Skittles Junior was dangling from the Christmas tree, and Bradley looked miserably tired with Noah pouting on his lap.

"What's going on?" you asked, and they both turned to look at you and Noelle.

"Daddy touched Skittles Junior, and now he's not magic anymore."

Noah's lips quivered as Bradley rolled his eyes behind him. "It was an accident," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "And Santa's helper should be here shortly to remedy things."

You looked at him like he had two heads. "What are you talking about? Santa's helper?"

"It's the only way!" Noah insisted, his little fists clenched on his lap. "It's the only way to get his magic back!"

You looked from one pair of brown eyes to the other. "I'm still confused," you whispered, but then there was a knock on the front door. "Who could that possibly be at this hour?"

Noah launched off Bradley's lap. "It has to be Santa's helper!" he exclaimed, racing for the door and opening it. You nearly choked when you saw Natasha standing there, dressed as a life-sized Elf on the Shelf with heavily rouged cheeks and her hair hidden under the pointy hat. She was also wearing oversized glasses which she pushed up her nose as Bradley stood.

"Hi! My name is Pip! I'm an elf!" she squeaked.

"Did Santa send you?" Noah asked hopefully, opening the door wider for her.

"He sure did!" she told him with a smile while you took in the events before you with Noelle in your arms. This had to be the most insane thing you'd ever witnessed as your husband's best friend walked into the living room with a canister of gold glitter in her hand.

"Did he tell you my elf lost his magic?" Noah asked, pointing at the tree.

"Oh, yes," Natasha squeaked. "He said your dad was very, very naughty." She glared at Bradley who just shook his head. "He's going directly onto the naughty list for the next decade or so. Everyone knows you aren't allowed to touch the Elf on the Shelf. Only a complete moron would-"

"Okay, Pip," Bradley barked. "Can you fix the elf or not?"

She adjusted the glasses and opened the glitter. "Of course I can. Just a little sprinkle," she said, dousing the elf and half the tree in gold dust, "and he'll be good as new."

"Yay!" Noah shouted, jumping around the room. "He's magic again! He's magic again!"

You gaped at Bradley and whispered, "Do I even want to know?"

"Absolutely not," he replied, taking Noelle and giving her a kiss while Noah plopped down to open aone of his presents like all was right in the world.

When Natasha turned to quietly sneak back out the front door, you followed her to the porch, closing the door behind you.

"What in the world is happening here? I thought you and Javy were coming over later for dinner?"

She waved her hand in the air in clear annoyance. "I don't know exactly what your husband did to fuck up enough that I got texts in the middle of the night and had to drive an hour each way to the only Walmart that opened at seven in the morning on Christmas to buy this outfit, but he owes me dearly. I'll be back at a normal hour, and you can tell him he better be ready to start kissing my ass."

The elf stormed across the yard to her SUV, tossed her hat in, and drove off. You scratched your head, still confused as you went back inside. Skittles Junior was practically dripping with gold glitter as you passed the tree to find your husband and both of your children were wearing their paper crowns.

"Mommy, put it on," Noah said, handing you the purple one as you took a seat on the area rug with them.

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek while Noelle reached for one of the wrapped gifts. "I'll explain everything later," he whispered. "The important thing is the elf is magical again, and everyone is happy."

You shook your head and pursed your lips. "Everyone except you. Ten years on the naughty list? You better hope Pip changes her mind before she gets back to the North Pole."

Bradley groaned and sprawled out on the floor while the kids opened their presents, but there was a smile on his face the whole time.

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

It feels good to check in with them! I'm so obsessed with elf Natasha, if you couldn't tell. Thanks for reading! Happy holidays! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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dreamersparacosm · 2 months ago

Text

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part five)

warnings ; talk of blood and injuries (kinda?) but that’s it!

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 ; guys why am i depressed about part six being the last part. i will miss my pookie so badddd :(( also why did I get turned on writing about injured jk…girl. anywho - crazy that this story has amassed over 3000 notes like… i love u all xo.. (make sure to listen to snow on the beach by taylor for the first part of this chapter ;’))

playlist here

series masterlist here

A few days pass.

Yet the man hasn’t left your mind. You’ve tried to shake it off, tried to go about your days like normal, but the problem is: nothing feels normal anymore. Not since Maya’s party, not since that night in his car, not since he told you not like this. Not since you woke up the next morning, lips tingling with the ghost of a kiss that never happened.

You’re so screwed.

It’s a crush—a full-blown, heart-thudding, stomach-flipping, ridiculous kind of crush.

The kind that makes you overly aware of every little thing he does. The way he texts you throughout the day, the way he always waits for your reaction when he says something funny, the way he watches you sometimes, really watches you, like he’s waiting for something.

And the worst part?

Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.

Jungkook still invites you over like he always does, still texts you pictures of puzzles he’s working on, still shows up at your door with a bottle of wine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Today is just another one of those days.

It’s raining outside, the steady hum of water against the windows filling his home. The air smells like fresh coffee and buttered popcorn, and a half-played movie flickers dimly on the screen as you curl up in the corner of his couch, knees tucked under you.

It’s comfortable. Familiar.

Unfortunately, to your dismay, his stupid, soft, obnoxiously pink lips, the ones you almost felt against your own, the ones that hovered so close to yours that night in his car, the ones that have been torturing you for days now.

It’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.

Because ever since that night, you haven’t been able to stop. Not during work, not during your commute, not even in the quiet moments before you fall asleep because your brain won’t let you. It replays everything, like some cruel, never-ending loop. His voice, his gaze, the way he held you so gently as he carried you up your apartment stairs.

You’re obsessed with the almost, with the what if, with the thought of how it would’ve felt if he hadn’t stopped.

Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting beside you, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his other hand absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on his sweatpants. Maybe it’s the way his knee brushes against yours every so often, something almost deliberate in the way he doesn’t move away. Maybe it’s just you.

Your heart is doing too much, your body feels too warm, and suddenly, sitting next to him feels like the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done.

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, trying to act normal. “This movie sucks.”

Jungkook glances at you, one brow lifting. “You picked it.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I know. But I thought it would be one of those so bad it’s good movies.”

He smirks, sinking lower into the couch, arms stretching wider. “It’s just bad.”

You peek at him through your fingers, your lips twitching. “I regret everything.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head like he’s thinking. “I could save you from your suffering.”

You blink. “How?”

His smirk deepens. “Turn it into a drinking game.”

You gasp, scandalized. “It’s literally three in the afternoon.”

Jungkook shrugs. “And?”

You glare. “You’re a bad influence.”

“And you’re boring,” he teases, nudging your knee with his. “Live a little.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I do live.”

Jungkook snorts, eyes glinting with amusement. “Do you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping, taunting. “Then prove it.”

Your face heats. “I—”

Then you realize. This isn’t about the movie. This isn’t about anything you’re saying at all. This is about the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice dips low whenever he talks to you, the way his eyes flicker to your lips more often than they should. This is about the other night, you’re almost certain of it (and that holds weight, considering you may be as clueless as a child.)

Your breath hitches, pulse hammering beneath your skin, and you scramble for something to pull yourself back. “I live,” you blurt out.

Jungkook grins, watching you squirm. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod too quickly, too obviously. “Yes. I—I do things. Fun things.”

His smirk widens. “Like what?”

You freeze.

Your mind goes completely blank.

Jungkook laughs, tipping his head back, the sound richer, deeper than it should be. “Oh my god.”

You groan, hiding in your hoodie, absolutely mortified. Yet, a hand tugs your sleeve down, fingers brushing against your wrist, warm and gentle. Suddenly, you’re so aware of him again. Of how close he is. Of how the teasing is still there, but the energy has shifted, gone heavier, quieter, something else creeping into his expression, something that makes your stomach twist.

You swallow, throat tight. “What?”

Jungkook’s gaze lingers, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You always get shy when I look at you like this," he murmurs, voice low and careful.

You open your mouth, speechless, but he tilts his head slightly, gaze never leaving yours.

"It’s cute," he continues, soft but deliberate.

This doesn’t feel mundane at all. Your stomach twists and turns like those pretzels you used to get at the mall as a kid. You know what he’s doing—knows he sees right through you, knows he’s teasing you for the way your pulse stumbles and your fingers twitch whenever he gets too close. It works every time.

You clear your throat, eyes flickering away, trying to shake the warmth creeping up your neck. “Stop that.”

Jungkook grins, all lazy amusement, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s thoroughly enjoying your embarrassment.

“Stop what?” he muses, tilting his head, fingers drumming against the couch.

Your eyes narrow. “Looking at me like that.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Like what?”

“Like—” You wave a hand at him, flustered. “Like that.”

Jungkook laughs, head tilting back, utterly unbothered. “You are so bad at this.”

You glare, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him. “Shut up.”

It hits him square in the chest, and his laughter dies instantly.

You freeze. He blinks in response.

“Oh,” Jungkook murmurs, slow, dangerous, fingers curling around the pillow like he’s just now realizing the power he holds. “That’s how we’re playing this?”

You scramble backward, suddenly regretting everything. “Wait—”

Too late.

The pillow collides with your face, and you squeal, grabbing it before swinging back twice as hard, and suddenly it’s a war zone.

Feathers fly. Laughter erupts, breathless and wild, pillows smacking into shoulders, arms, legs. Jungkook is relentless, attacking without mercy, and you can barely breathe between your giggles, between the way he’s so unfairly quick at dodging your swings.

“You’re cheating!” you gasp, ducking as he swings again.

Jungkook grins, smug and effortless, dodging another one of your feeble attempts. “How?”

“You just—” You lunge, shoving a pillow against his chest, pushing him back.

Somehow you both lose balance, and now, you’re too close. His weight shifts, his arm reaching out to steady himself, and then his face is inches from yours.

Your laughter dies, breath stalls.

The room feels too quiet, too warm, suddenly too cramped.

Your fingers are still curled around the pillow, but you don’t move. You can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t either.

His lips part slightly, chest rising and falling too slow, too deep, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s waiting for something.

The thudding pulse in your ears, the heat coiling low in your stomach, the way his breath mixes with yours, close enough that if you just—

No.

Your brain kicks in, and you move first. A sharp inhale, a jerk away, a desperate scramble to the opposite end of the couch.

Distance. You need space.

Jungkook blinks, like he’s coming back to himself. Like he wasn’t just about to… He wouldn’t.. right? You can’t think about it.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

You grab another pillow and toss it at his face, laughing too quickly, too forced. “Truce?”

Jungkook catches it midair, gaze still unreadable. He smirks.

But this time, it’s not smug. It’s something else entirely.Something that makes your stomach flip, your chest tighten, your skin burn.

The pillow fight dies down, the last of your laughter melting into the air, breathless and warm. You’re both a little flushed, a little too aware of each other, but neither of you acknowledge it.

No, he doesn’t dare speak on the way his hands almost brushed against your waist. Or, the way you caught yourself staring at his lips when you landed too close. Or, the way you ran to the other side of the couch like your life depended on it.

Instead, you’re both acting worse than two petulant children who are trying to hide the candy supply in the classroom.

Jungkook shifts, stretching an arm over the back of the couch, sinking into the cushions like the last few minutes hadn’t completely ruined you (or him, for that matter.)

You do the same, try to focus on the movie flickering across the screen, try to calm your pulse, try to not think about the heat radiating from his body just inches from yours.

Now, as the glow of the screen casts soft shadows over his face, you’re even more hyper-aware of everything. You watch way his fingers tap idly against his knee. The slow rise and fall of his chest. The effortless, maddening way he exists beside you.

You hate him. You really, really hate him.

You let out a slow breath, forcing your gaze forward, gripping the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. Focus. It’s just a movie.

A terrible movie, but still, a movie nonetheless—

“Do you remember what you said when you were drunk?”

Your body locks up, fingers tightening against the fabric of the blanket as your heart skips a beat. Slowly, too slowly, you turn your head.

Jungkook isn’t looking at the movie anymore.

He’s looking at you.

The weight of his gaze presses into you, steady, unreadable, dark eyes flickering.

You try to play dumb. “…What?”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, expression too neutral. Like he’s just making conversation. Like he’s not throwing you into complete chaos right now.

"You said you wanted to kiss me."

Silence.

Your stomach twists into knots. Heat floods your face, your entire body suddenly too warm, too stiff, too trapped in this moment with him.

He’s watching you so carefully, waiting, giving you a chance to deny it. You know you can’t.

You remember. You remember too well. It’s actually the only part of the night that replays in your head like a broken record. You clear your throat, swallowing past the dryness, voice barely above a whisper. “..Yeah.”

Jungkook exhales, just slightly, just enough for his lips to part again, and you make the mistake of looking at them.

The word hangs between you, fragile, dangerous, like it might shatter if you move too fast.

He doesn’t speak right away, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He just watches you, gaze heavy, dark, unreadable. And the way he’s looking at you, like he’s waiting, like he’s already bracing himself for what happens next makes your stomach flip.

“You think about it?” His voice is quiet, deep, deliberate.

You should lie. You should play it off, should laugh, should look away and act like he’s reading too much into this.

Your fingers twitch in your lap, throat too dry, pulse hammering against your ribs. “… Do you?”

His jaw tenses, his body too still, too controlled, like he’s holding something back. His voice is low when he finally answers. “All the time.”

There it is.

No teasing. No playful smirks.

Just the truth.

Your nails dig into the couch cushion, your body frozen between running away and leaning in. “Jungkook…”

He exhales slowly, eyes flickering between yours, something like hesitation, like restraint flickering behind them. You blurt out “You’re looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”

“…Would you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “If I let you?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, soft, unguarded, trembling at the edges. And the moment they do, time seems to slow, wrapping itself around the weight of what you’ve just said. You are not the kind of person who speaks without thinking. You measure your words, tuck your feelings away where no one can reach them. But here, now, in this fleeting second where everything feels just right, your heart betrays you. Your pulse pounds in your throat, heat crawling up your neck, a slow, aching bloom of realization. You shouldn’t have said it. You don’t say things like this.

Jungkook’s face tightens, jaw clenching, something dangerous and desperate flashing across his face. “Don’t test me.” His voice is low, strained, warning.

That is what does it for you. And maybe you should back away. Maybe you should slow down. Maybe you should stop pretending this isn’t going to happen.

His fingers move. Not in a rush. Not deliberate. Just… easy. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his thumb brushes along your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly, just enough to make you look at him. His touch is barely there, but it’s everywhere, searing into you, sending sparks down your spine.

“You still want me to kiss you?" His voice is soft. Careful. But the way his thumb lingers against your skin, the way his eyes darken just slightly, the way his breath mixes with yours, it’s not careful at all.

Your body betrays you before your brain can catch up, leaning into his touch, tilting your chin just slightly closer. You don’t even know if you’re breathing.

For a moment—just a moment—he gives you the chance to back out.

He lingers there, breath uneven, fingers still holding you in place, his body too still, like he’s waiting, waiting for you to come to your senses, to pull away, to break whatever this is before it fully unravels between you.

You won’t. Right now, every single thought, every ounce of hesitation, every reason you had to keep your distance, it is floating in the wind with the rest of your fucks, because all you can think about is him.

His lips are right there, warm, soft, barely a whisper away from yours.

You close the distance. Jungkook reacts instantly.

The moment your lips touch, his restraint shatters completely.

A sharp inhale, a slight hitch in his breath, and then he’s on you. His fingers tighten against your jaw, tilting your face up exactly how he wants it, his other hand gripping the couch beside you, caging you in, keeping you there.

God, it’s everything.

Slow, deep, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this for so long it’s physically painful. Your lips part, and he takes full advantage, kissing you deeper, harder, letting his lips move with so much purpose you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel everything he’s pouring into this moment.

It is as if, in that single, breathtaking moment, every fear and every hesitation is washed away by the warmth of his embrace. His desire for you is evident in every nuance: the way his eyes close a little tighter, the way his hand lingers a moment longer, as if trying to memorize every curve of your face. You feel him wanting you, wanting you so badly it hurts, and that longing wraps around you like a promise.

The cool metal of his lip ring brushes against your mouth, contrasting the heat of his kiss, making you dizzy, making you press closer without meaning to. Jungkook groans into your mouth, a sound low, rough, completely wrecked, like he’s feeling every second of this as intensely as you are.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

You sigh into him, letting yourself melt, letting yourself give in, and the moment you do, his fingers twitch against your skin, like he feels you surrender, like he knows exactly what this means.

It’s more than just a kiss. It’s him wanting you. Not just now, not just tonight—but always, like he’s said a thousand times over.

You feel it, in the way his lips move against yours, in the way he devours you slowly, in the way his hands never leave your skin, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

No man has ever kissed you like this. No man has ever wanted you like this. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, undoing you completely.

And when you finally pull back—just barely, just enough to breathe—he chases you.

His lips brush against yours again, soft but desperate, like he can’t stand the distance.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first.

Your fingers drift upward, brushing lightly against his jaw, and then the cool metal of his lip ring, pressed so perfectly against his lower lip, catching slightly where your mouths meet.

It’s distracting, fascinating, and without thinking, your tongue flicks against it, curious, experimental, testing the feel of it against your own lips.

Jungkook nearly combusts in his own home.

He makes a sound that is low, deep, something that rumbles through his chest, and his fingers tighten against your skin, like he’s holding himself back from something much worse.

He pulls back, just barely, lips still brushing against yours, his breath hot, heavy, uneven.

His eyes are half-lidded, dark, hold yours with something so intense it makes your stomach flip.

"This is really hot, you know," he murmurs, voice raspy, ruined, like he wasn’t expecting this, like you’ve completely wrecked him without even realizing it.

Before you can even think of responding, before you can feel even an ounce of embarrassment, Jungkook pulls you back in.

He’s done pretending, done holding back, done waiting for permission.

The kiss is hungry, dizzying, lips parting, bodies pressing, fingers gripping, heat pooling low in your stomach as he devours you whole. Your shy giggle breaks between kisses, flustered and light, but Jungkook doesn’t stop, doesn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath.

He just grins against your lips, barely pulling back, murmuring something soft, something teasing, before diving back in.

You finally pull away, giggly, breathless, completely undone. Your skin is flushed, burning, your lips tingling with the ghost of his, and you can’t stop the embarrassed little laugh that escapes you as you tuck your face into your hands.

Jungkook?

Jungkook looks so smug, grinning like he just won first place at a national race, his head tilting as he watches you absolutely dissolve in front of him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble into your hands, mortified.

He chuckles, voice warm, teasing, endlessly amused. “What?”

You peek at him through your fingers, face burning, and he’s too close, too gorgeous, too smug about how easily he wrecks you.

“That was—” You pause, flustered, shaking your head before hiding your face again.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head back against the couch.

“That was…?” he prompts, mischievous, completely entertained by your suffering.

You shake your head faster, burying yourself deeper into your hands. “Shut up.”

Jungkook grins. “Not a chance.”

You peek at him again, still horribly, painfully shy, but his smile is so warm, so easy, and you can’t help but laugh, your own nervous energy spilling over.

For a few seconds, neither of you speak, just sitting there, drunk off each other, off this moment, off the fact that you actually kissed him and survived it.

You let out a small breath, playing with the hem of your sweater, still so painfully shy when you murmur, “…I really like kissing you.”

The words are barely there, so soft he almost misses them, but the second they register, Jungkook freezes. Then, his grin widens, eyes lighting up with something dangerous and smug and pleased. “Oh, yeah?”

You instantly regret everything. God, why were you given the right to speak? Your face erupts in heat, and you bury your head into his shoulder, groaning into his hoodie. “Stop.”

Jungkook laughs, giddy, boyish, his chest shaking beneath you. “Say it again.”

You shove at his arm. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re annoying.”

He’s beaming, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on. You liked it. You just said so.”

You try to glare at him, but your lips betray you, twitching up at the corners, and Jungkook knows he’s won.

“So…” His voice is lighter now, careful, curious. “Are we friends who kiss?”

The air shifts, just slightly, just enough to remind you that this isn’t just teasing anymore. You really don’t know what to say to that, because the truth is, you have no idea what you are anymore.

And from the way Jungkook is looking at you, like he’s waiting for an answer, like he actually wants to know, you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

“…Do you kiss all your friends like that?” It’s quiet, barely above a whisper, but you feel the way it hits him instantly.

Jungkook exhales, a slow, measured breath, his fingers tapping against his knee like he’s thinking, debating, deciding what to say next. “Only the cute ones,” he murmurs.

Your breath stumbles, heart stammering, warmth spreading down your spine as you scramble for composure. You roll your eyes, shoving at his arm, playing it off even as your fingers tremble slightly. “You’re impossible.”

Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head at you, his expression so unbearably fond it makes your chest ache.

“So…” he continues, smirking. “That’s a yes, then?”

Your brows furrow. “A yes to what?”

“To us being friends who kiss.”

The teasing is back in his tone, light and playful, but there’s something else underneath it, something hesitant, something that feels too careful, too deliberate.

If you agree to this, to whatever this is, then what happens when it’s not enough anymore? What happens when you wake up one day and realize that being his friend isn’t enough anymore?

You swallow hard, pulse pounding, lips parting before you even realize you’re speaking. “..Maybe, I—I don’t...”

It’s softer than you mean for it to be, quieter, almost like an admission you shouldn’t be making.

Jungkook hears it. You see the way his smirk falters just slightly, the way his fingers flex against the couch like he’s reining himself in, like he’s forcing himself to keep this playful, to keep this from turning into something real.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice lower now, gentler. “It’s just a question.”

It’s not just a question. Not to you. Not to him.

But instead of pushing, instead of pressing, instead of forcing you to define something you’re still too scared to name, Jungkook just smiles, nudging your knee with his. “Don’t think too hard about it, okay?”

Somehow, that makes it worse. He’s giving you an out, he’s letting you pretend. That should make you feel relieved. Instead, it just makes your stomach twist.

Because if Jungkook is willing to pretend, if he’s willing to let you call this nothing, then why does it feel like everything?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You and Jungkook still talk every day. Still text constantly, still tease each other like you always have. He still calls you at random hours, voice warm, casual, like he just likes knowing what you’re doing. You still pretend it doesn’t make your stomach flip when he tells you about his day, when he asks about yours, when he remembers the smallest details you barely remember telling him. You still spend time together, still find yourselves in each other’s spaces like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But now, there’s something undeniable sitting between you. A weight to every glance, a meaning to every touch, a charge in the air whenever you get too close.

You feel it in the way his hand lingers on your back when he walks beside you, in the way his knee brushes yours when you sit too close on his couch. In the way he looks at you like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s waiting for you to admit what you both already know.

And maybe that’s why this time, when he tells you to come to another race, it feels different.

Before, he invited you.

But this time?

This time, it’s a demand, not a request.

"You’re coming to my race this weekend."

Not if you want to. Not if you’re free. Just come, like there was never a chance you’d say no. There really wasn’t.

When you get there, when you arrive at the track expecting to be in the stands with the rest of the civilians, expecting to be just another face in the crowd, you realize this time, he’s put you somewhere else. Somewhere closer. Somewhere that means something. You’re no longer in the stands.You’re with his crew, his manager, with the people who are part of his world, part of him.

And as you stand there, watching the way his team moves around you like you belong, wearing the NASCAR jacket with his last name on it that he draped over your shoulders without a word, you realize: You’re not just a spectator anymore. You’re fitting into his life. He is making you space for you. It’s a statement, intentional or not—he’s treating you like someone important. He’s branding you as his.

So it’s not surprising when Jungkook walks over to you, where his manager stands, and his eyes are gleaming with happiness. You see him before he even reaches you, his racing suit already zipped up, sleek black and red, fitted perfectly to his frame, the number on his chest stark against the fabric.

It’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his favorite part of this whole damn day.

"Well," he grins, voice warm, breathless with excitement as he reaches you. "You ready to watch me be incredible?"

You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters anyway.

"You’re already insufferable, and the race hasn’t even started," you murmur, pretending like his presence isn’t throwing you completely off balance.

Jungkook laughs, tilting his head at you, gaze flickering down to the VIP lanyard resting against your chest before meeting your eyes again.

"Looks good on you," he muses.

You blink, confused. "What does?"

"My name."

Your breath stalls. And it’s only then that you realize, printed in bold across your lanyard, just below the race’s credentials, are the words: Guest of Jeon Jungkook.

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the weight of the jacket he lent you, the way his team has already accepted your presence without question, the way he’s so clearly staking his claim without actually saying it.

So you just huff, crossing your arms. "You’re the worst."

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. "Heard that before.”

Before you can argue, before you can figure out a response, he leans in slightly, voice lower now, teasing.

"Anyway," he murmurs, "I think you forgot something."

You blink. "…What?"

Jungkook tilts his head, feigning deep thought. "I mean, I could be wrong, but I swear I heard that a good luck kiss is mandatory."

Your brain short-circuits, entire face igniting. Jungkook just smirks, thoroughly enjoying your visible meltdown.

"I—" Your voice betrays you, barely there, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. "You’re making that up."

He gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "You think I’d lie to you?"

You give him the flattest look possible.

Jungkook grins wider, eyes twinkling with mischief, waiting, because he knows you, knows exactly how to get under your skin, knows exactly how flustered you are right now.

The worst part? He’s right. Because now you can’t not think about it. The idea of kissing him, the thought of pressing your lips to his, even if just for a second.

Your hands curl at your sides, nerves running wild, and you glance away, feeling impossibly warm under his gaze.

"Fine," you mumble.

Jungkook stills. "Wait, really?"

You roll your eyes, stepping forward, standing on your tiptoes before you can psych yourself out, before your heart makes you back down.

You lean in, pressing the softest, tiniest, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it peck to his cheek. It’s barely anything, just a whisper of warmth against his skin, a brush of your lips that ends before it even starts.

When you pull back, Jungkook is frozen.

"Oh, come on," he groans, whining like a child, tilting his head dramatically. "That was barely a kiss!"

Your cheeks burn. "You didn’t say how long it had to be, or where!"

Jungkook pouts. "That’s cheating."

"It’s not cheating!"

"It is," he argues, grinning now, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "But I’ll let it slide for now."

You huff, but before you can fire back, his team starts calling him over, signaling that it’s time. Jungkook lingers, just for a second, then tilts his head at you, so effortlessly charming it’s infuriating.

"Wish me luck?"

You sigh, but smile despite yourself. "Good luck, Jungkook."

His grin widens, but before he turns to leave, he reaches out, fingers brushing the sleeve of his jacket on your shoulders.

"You look good in this, too," he says, softer now.

And then he’s gone, walking toward his car, leaving you completely ruined in his wake.

One moment, Jungkook is standing in front of you, all teasing grins and warm eyes. The next, he’s walking toward the starting grid, toward his car, toward the adrenaline-fueled world that belongs to him in a way you’ll never fully understand.

The pre-race ritual begins like clockwork.

The track is a beast of its own, surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras, roaring fans, and the pulsing hum of engines warming up. Crew members move with quick precision, adjusting final setups, checking tires, fueling the machines that are about to push beyond human limits.

The announcers’ voices boom through the speakers, a mix of excited commentary and statistical breakdowns, analyzing lap times, weather conditions, and strategies for the coming race.

Jungkook steps onto the grid like he was born for this moment.

His racing suit fits like a second skin, sleek black and red, his name embroidered over his chest, sponsor logos lining the fabric. His gloved hands adjust the collar before he rolls his shoulders, his signature pre-race routine.

He waves to the crowd and the stands erupt.A deafening roar of cheers, whistles, and screams fills the air, the sound vibrating through the track, through the very ground beneath your feet. His name is on thousands of signs, chanted by fans in unison, a presence so overwhelming that it sends a chill down your spine.

Yet, Jungkook is calm. He grins, tipping his head toward the cameras, radiating a confidence that seems almost effortless. He acknowledges the love with a quick lift of his gloved hand before turning toward his car.

Your heart skips as he moves. Because while everyone else sees a world-class driver, a champion at the peak of his game, you truly see him. The man who just asked you for a good luck kiss like it was nothing. The man who threw his jacket over your shoulders without a second thought. The man who made sure you weren’t just in the crowd this time but standing with his people.

Your fingers tighten around the lanyard at your chest. And then, he finds you. Even in the chaos, even as the pit crews move, even as his race engineer talks into his earpiece, giving him last-minute data, his gaze lands on you.

For a brief second, the noise fades. Jungkook doesn’t wave this time. He just smirks, cocky, knowing, completely at ease with the fact that you’re watching him like you can’t help it.

You can’t find yourself to look away, not as he slips into the cockpit of his car, pulling down his visor. Not as the five red lights illuminate above the track, signaling the countdown. Not as the entire world seems to hold its breath.

Lights out.

Jungkook disappears in a blur of speed.

Somehow, you swear you’re screaming louder than anyone else. Your hands are clutched together, heart hammering against your ribs, breath shallow with anticipation as you watch him maneuver the track like he was born for this, his car weaving through turns, slicing through air with an ease that is almost inhuman.

You’ve watched enough races now to understand what’s happening, to know how to read the screen displaying his lap times, to recognize the strategic braking, the calculated risks he takes with each hairpin turn.

He’s flying.

The crowd is a blur of screams and chants, his name echoing through the stadium like a heartbeat, like a pulse. His manager and crew are behind you, murmuring low, speaking in code—numbers, tire wear, fuel calculations—but none of it registers.

All you can see is him.

Lap 47.

Only a few more to go.

Your grip tightens on the lanyard around your neck, the one with his name on it, the one that shouldn’t mean anything but suddenly means everything.

Before you can even recognize it, your nightmare, something you hadn’t dared let yourself think of as a possibility, happens. A flash of movement, a miscalculated overtake, a split-second misjudgment. Another car veers too close and clips into Jungkook’s left side.

The impact is instant.

His car jerks violently, spinning, tires screeching, rubber burning against asphalt and all you really see is his car disappear into the wall.

A sickening crunch of metal, the screech of carbon fiber against steel, and the entire stadium gasps as his car slams into the barrier.

Your breath vanishes. Your vision tunnels, ears ringing with static, with silence, with nothing.

No.

No, no, no.

Your body moves before your mind can catch up, hands clutching at the railing, eyes wild, scanning the wreckage, searching for movement, for a sign, for anything.

He’s not moving.

He’s not getting out.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, but your voice is lost, drowned out by the deafening roar of the stadium, the panic crackling through the radios, the blur of pit crews surging forward.

Your stomach twists, a horrible, gut-wrenching nausea that makes your knees weak, makes your hands tremble as you try to breathe, think, stay calm.

He’s in that car, in that wreckage, in that moment that feels like it will never end.

And for the first time, it truly hits you. This isn’t just a game. This isn’t just fast cars and roaring crowds and celebratory champagne. This is danger. This is risk. This is him—the boy who steals your breath with his teasing, who ruins you with his smiles, who kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough—and you can’t lose him.

Not like this, not ever.

A hand grips your arm. You think it’s his manager, trying to pull you back, saying something, but you’re already shaking your head, panic clawing at your throat.

“No,” you gasp, barely hearing yourself over the screams, the commotion, the static of the radios going off in every direction. “No, I—I have to—”

His manager tightens his grip, voice sharp. “You can’t go down there.”

But you don’t care. It’s a madhouse. Crew members are shouting, paramedics are sprinting, cameras are flashing, the entire stadium is a blur of chaos and noise and fear, and you’re inconsolable.

The second you saw that car slam into the wall, the second he stopped moving, the second the world seemed to hold its breath, something inside you snapped.

Tears stream down your face, hot and endless, your breath ragged, uneven, your entire body trembling so hard you can barely stand upright.

The grip on your arm tightens, grounding you just enough to hear his manager’s voice, low but firm, “They’re getting him out, do you hear me? They’re getting him out.”

You blink, vision blurred, pulse pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else—

At first, it’s barely anything.

A shift, a stretch, a stir. But then, you see it.

His legs move as they left him onto the stretcher. You squint further, and see his mouth move. He’s talking.

Your body lurches forward before you even realize what you’re doing, instincts overriding logic, pure desperation taking control.

You don’t care about the barricades, about security, about the fact that you’re not supposed to be on the track, you just need to get to him. Need to see him, touch him, hear him, know that he’s okay.

The grip on your arm yanks you back, pulling you against a solid chest, holding you in place.

“Let me go,” you sob, struggling, trying to break free. “Let me go, I have to—I have to—”

Your head whips around so fast it makes you dizzy, breath catching as your eyes find him, arms slung over two paramedics, legs shaky but strong, face bruised but alive.

He’s alive.

A broken, helpless sob escapes you, your hand flying to your mouth as you watch them carry him out, watch the way he winces slightly.

Something in your chest completely shatters.

You try to run to him again, try to close the distance, but his manager’s grip is ironclad, shaking his head.

“Come on,” he mutters. “We’re going with him.”

And that’s the only reason you stop fighting.

The world moves in a blur. You barely register the security leading you out of the pit lane, barely hear the frantic voices of the racing officials as they try to control the chaos.

The only thing that matters is the sight of Jungkook being loaded into the ambulance.

And suddenly, you’re moving again, faster this time, pushing past people as his manager guides you forward, urgency burning in your veins like wildfire.

By the time you reach the ambulance, the doors are thrown open, paramedics working around him, barking orders at each other, checking vitals, assessing injuries.

You lose it.

Jungkook looks worse up close.

His racing suit is partially unzipped, revealing a deepening bruise along his collarbone, a few scrapes on his arm where his glove had torn. There’s a gash on his brow, blood trickling sluggishly down his temple, his lip slightly split.

His eyes are lidded, drowsy, like he’s trying to fight the weight of exhaustion pulling at him.

“No, no, no—” Your voice bursts out before you can stop it, frantic, borderline hysterical. “What the hell are you guys doing? Are you checking for concussions? What about internal bleeding? What if he has a brain injury?”

The paramedics barely have time to respond before you whirl on his manager, eyes wild. “Why the hell did it take so long to get him out of the car?”

His manager blinks, startled, before sighing. “He was conscious the whole time—”

“And you let him sit there?!” you shriek. “He crashed into a fucking wall!”

Jungkook groans, head rolling slightly toward you, voice raspy.

“[Y/N], baby,” he murmurs. “Breathe.”

The pet name should throw you off, should have you collapsing and needing medical assistance with him. Your whole body is on fire. But you can’t.

He’s sitting there—bruised, bloody, hurt—and yet no one is doing enough.

You turn back to the paramedics, furious, pointing at the one nearest to Jungkook’s head. “Are you even checking for neurological symptoms? Do you have the equipment for that? Are you taking him to the hospital?”

The paramedic blinks at you, mildly alarmed. “Uh—”

“She’s, uh, kind of scary,” one of them mutters under his breath.

Another laughs, shaking his head. “Damn, Jungkook, you got your girl all worried.”

Jungkook smirks like this isn’t a life-threatening situation, his voice light despite the exhaustion.

“Hmph” His gaze is half-lidded but amused, his lips curling just slightly. “They think you’re my girl.”

Your face burns. Now is not the time for this.

You ignore him, refuse to entertain the teasing, focusing instead on the medics fumbling around him like they aren’t treating the most important person in the world. Or, well, maybe your world.

“You need to check his pupils,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Monitor his speech patterns, make sure he isn’t concussed.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “You’re really going hard for this whole crazy girlfriend thing, huh?”

That is what makes you snap.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rises, eyes blazing as you step closer, nearly climbing into the ambulance. “You just crashed into a wall at almost 200 miles per hour, Jungkook. You could have died.”

The teasing disappears from his expression. The laughter fades. He’s just looking at you, eyes flickering over your face, taking in the panic still vibrating under your skin, the unfiltered fear in your eyes.

His throat bobs. For a moment, neither of you speak.

One of the paramedics snickers, cutting through the heavy silence. “She looks ready to throw hands with us.”

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, still staring at you, expression unreadable. Finally, he sighs, tilting his head toward you, voice softer now.

“[Y/N],” he murmurs, low and tired His gaze holds yours, dark and unwavering, “I’m okay.”

The words barely leave his lips before you snap back, voice firm, unwavering, “I’m coming with you."

Jungkook blinks.

His manager sighs.

The paramedics exchange glances, one of them stepping forward with a practiced, professional tone. “Ma’am, we need to get him to the hospital—”

“I know,” you cut in, eyes sharp, stance unshakable. “That’s why I’m going, too.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, a moment where the paramedics clearly debate pushing back, but they know they don’t stand a chance.

Your hands are already clenched into fists, your jaw is set, and your eyes are daring anyone to challenge you.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook just stares at you, completely stunned.

Because you’re not backing down.

Because his shy girl—the one who stumbles over words, the one who avoids attention, the one who blushes when he teases her—is gone. Instead, in her place is someone fierce, unwavering, absolutely insane about him.

He’s never been more obsessed in his life.

“Fine,” the paramedic relents, throwing his hands up, stepping aside. “Get in.”

You don’t waste a second.

Jungkook just grins, a shit-eating one that nearly splits his face in half.

The sirens wail above you, the vehicle rocking slightly with each turn, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the tiny bench next to Jungkook, his fingers wrapped around yours, and you can’t stop staring at him.

Even like this—bruised, banged up, a small cut on his lip—he’s still beautiful. His eyes, despite the exhaustion, watch you closely, dark and soft, filled with adoration. His fingers squeeze yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, his voice lower now, teasing but so warm it makes your chest ache.

“So,” he murmurs, grinning despite his split lip, “you always manhandle paramedics, or is that just for me?”

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, the sound low, husky, completely unaffected by the fact that he’s in a damn ambulance right now.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, squeezing his hand just a little too hard, trying to cover up the warmth spreading through your cheeks.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head at you. “You know what would make me feel better?”

You roll your eyes, already knowing where this is going. “What?”

“A good luck kiss,” he murmurs, boyish and smug, despite everything. “Almost worked last time.”

“You’re insane.”

“So is that a no?”

You scoff, but your free hand moves before you can stop it, fingers gently brushing through his hair, sweeping the dark strands away from his face.

His eyes flicker, lips parting slightly, gaze locked onto yours like he can’t look anywhere else.

And suddenly, you’re both silent. Your hand is still in his hair, your fingers lightly tracing along his temple, and it feels so natural, so easy, so dangerous in a way you don’t know how to control.

His breath is slow, deliberate, his thumb still moving against your knuckles, and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s falling just a little harder every second you touch him, it’s all too much.

So, before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean in and press the softest, lightest peck against his lips. When you pull back, Jungkook just stares at you, completely still.

“Damn,” he breathes, grinning despite the slight wince. “I think I feel better already.”

You shove him gently, but enough to make him laugh, enough to make your heart stumble over itself. The fear from before feels a little further away. He’s here. He’s okay, and you aren’t leaving his side.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The hospital room is too quiet. Too white, too sterile, too suffocating with the smell of antiseptic and latex gloves. It should be calming. It’s not.

Jungkook is laid up in a hospital bed, his racing suit unzipped down to his waist, revealing the bandages wrapped around his torso. His head is tilted slightly back against the pillows, eyes closed, looking far too relaxed for someone who just crashed a car going nearly 200 miles per hour.

You, however, are pacing. Restless, jittery, hands shaking at your sides, heart still lodged somewhere in your throat.

The beeping of the monitors grates against your ears, the fluorescent lighting buzzing faintly overhead, and the room feels smaller and smaller the longer you stand in it.

Jungkook watches you, lazy and amused, arms resting behind his head as if he’s just lounging in his house.

"[Y/N]," he drawls while a nurse takes his blood pressure, voice a little hoarse but annoyingly soft, "you’re making me dizzy."

You stop. Turn. Glare.

How is he acting like this is nothing?

The moment the doctors had cleared him—minor bruising, nothing serious, no concussion—he had just shrugged, completely unaffected.

Meanwhile, you are still reeling. Still wearing his racing jacket, oversized on your frame, still breathing too fast, still feeling the phantom terror of watching his car spin out.

When the doctors finally leave, when it’s just the two of you alone in this cold, clinical room, everything boils over.

"You scared the hell out of me, Jungkook."

The words fly out of you before you can stop them, sharp and unsteady, laced with too much emotion, too much panic that you can’t shove down anymore.

Jungkook’s head tilts slightly. He grins, cocky, infuriating, like he’s enjoying this way too much.

"What," he muses, "worried about me?"

Your hands curl into fists. He’s playing with you, still joking, still smirking, still being so goddamn Jungkook while you almost lost him today.

Your breath shudders, uneven and shaky, and the fight drains from your body before you can even respond.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see what this did to you. Soon enough, his grin fades. Because he does see it now. The way your voice had wobbled. The way your hands are still shaking at your sides. The way you are still trying to breathe through the terror of watching him crash, of watching him not move for those excruciating seconds that felt like eternity.

Something in his expression shifts. Something softer. More serious. More real. He doesn’t tease you this time. He just watches you, quiet now, unreadable.

And the tension lingers—thick, heavy, crackling in the space between you, filling the silence. Because this is not just friendship anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time.

“Of course, I was worried about you!" The words burst out of you before you can stop them, voice sharp, breaking, raw.

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly, taken aback.

"Do you think this is funny?" Your voice is rising now, fingers digging into your own arms, nails biting into skin just to ground yourself. "Do you think it’s normal for people to watch their friends crash into a wall and just be fine?"

Jungkook tilts his head, gaze unreadable. "Friends?"

Your stomach twists.

You freeze, realizing what you said. Jungkook doesn’t let you run from it. Instead, he shifts forward, leaning slightly.

"You tell me," he murmurs. "Is that all we are?"

And damn him, because he’s still doing this.

Still making you feel every little thing you don’t want to name. Still looking at you like he already knows the answer.

You can’t do this right now.

You shake your head, refusing to take the bait, refusing to engage, but your voice wavers when you speak again. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done if something happened to you?"

Jungkook pauses.

"No." A beat. A step closer. "Why don’t you tell me?"

"God, Jungkook!" You explode, voice high, breathless, filled with frustration and something dangerously close to grief. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"You could have died!" you continue, voice rising, cracking, hands trembling at your sides. "Do you understand that?! Do you understand what it felt like watching that happen?!"

His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

"You think I’d just be fine?" you push, voice shaking, unsteady, unraveling completely. "You think I’d just—just move on and go back to my life like you weren’t—like you didn’t—"

You stop. Swallow. Your throat burns.

"You think I wouldn’t care?"

Jungkook is staring at you now, jaw tight, hands curled into fists against the hospital sheets. His Adam’s apple bobs, throat working as he swallows hard.

You can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t believe you, or because he does. That is the part that terrifies you the most.

He just stares at you, his lips parted slightly, his breath slow, controlled, like he’s afraid to move too fast, trying to understand what’s happening. This is not the version of you he’s used to. You, with your hands trembling at your sides. You, with your voice breaking in ways that make his chest ache. You, standing in front of him in his jacket, looking like you’re on the verge of completely shattering.

Your voice is a whisper. Small. Unsteady. he hates it. He finally gets it now. It’s not just about the crash, the fear, the hospital, the bruises on his skin. It’s about him and you and everything that’s been building between you for far too long.

Jungkook exhales, chest rising and falling, his hands gripping the sheets beside him, and for a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—he looks like he wants to say something.

You don’t give him the chance. You move first. Before you can stop yourself, before you can think, you step forward and collapse into his arms.

His body tenses in surprise, but only for a second. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, holding you tight. Your face presses into his shoulder, your fingers clutch at the fabric of his driver suit, and you break completely.

You sob and shake, and Jungkook just holds you through it.

"Hey," he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, his hands moving slowly, soothingly, one pressed against the small of your back, the other cradling the back of your head. "I’m right here."

You shake your head against him, your grip tightening, words muffled against his shoulder. "You can’t just say it like that, like it wasn’t—like you didn’t—"

Jungkook exhales, understanding without needing you to finish.

"I know," he says quietly. "I know, baby."

You just breathe him in. The warmth of him. The feeling of his heartbeat under your fingertips. The knowledge that he’s here, alive, safe.

"I don’t—" You sniffle, voice unsteady, body still trembling against his. "I don’t know how you do this. How do you just walk away from something like that?"

Jungkook chuckles softly, but there’s no teasing in it this time.

"It’s part of the sport," he murmurs, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your back. "Crashes happen. Risks happen. But I swear I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again."

And when you finally pull back, just enough to look at him, his hands still rest on your waist, warm and steady.

His eyes flicker over your face, gentle and searching, and when he lifts a hand, fingers brushing away the stray tears from your cheek, you don’t stop him. You just let him touch you. Let yourself feel all of it. You blink, caught off guard, before his next words completely ruin you.

"You know," he muses, eyes twinkling, "you were kinda terrifying back there with those paramedics."

Your jaw drops.

Jungkook laughs, fully and unapologetically, his fingers still on your waist, his body still warm against yours, his presence still grounding you even as he makes fun of you.

"Shut up," you mumble, wiping at your face, still sniffling, still recovering from all of this. “I swear they weren’t even trying to do their job right.”

Jungkook just smirks.

"I like the idea of you as a crazy girlfriend."

The worst part? You do too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Ever since the hospital, things have been different. Not drastically. Not in a way that anyone else would notice.

Just you.

Jungkook has always been in your life in ways you never expected, but now, it feels permanent, like the space he takes up in your world is so much bigger than before.

You don’t even question why you’re here, in his house, day after day, fussing over him like it’s second nature.

He absolutely lets you. Despite his half-hearted protests, despite his attempts to act like he’s fine, he lets you take care of him.

Or, more accurately, he loves every second of it.

“[Y/N], sweetheart,” Jungkook groans from the couch, throwing his head back dramatically as you set a glass of water and his next round of painkillers on the coffee table. “You’re smothering me.”

You ignore him, plopping down on the other end of the couch as you pull your legs up, phone in hand. “You need to stay on schedule with your meds.”

“I barely feel anything anymore.”

You glance at him, unimpressed. “That’s because of the meds.”

Jungkook grins, shifting slightly so he’s facing you more, his arm draping lazily over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You know,” he drawls, voice low and teasing, “I think you just like having an excuse to take care of me.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. “I’m just being a decent human being.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it.” He smirks, tilting his head. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

You scoff, shaking your head, but your next words betray you: “You’re so annoying.”

Jungkook’s grin widens.

You don’t even see it coming.

His leg suddenly stretches out, toes nudging against your thigh, pushing you just enough to make you wobble slightly on the couch.

You yelp, slapping his knee. “Stop! You’re injured!”

He laughs, full and completely unbothered, before leaning back against the cushions, utterly relaxed.

“See?” he muses, eyes closing. “My personal nurse. Fussing over me every second of the day.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I could just leave, you know.”

Jungkook peeks one eye open, eyebrow arching.

“Oh?” he challenges, voice too smug for his own good. “Go on, then.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

Because his grin turns downright devilish as he leans his head back again, stretching slightly, completely at ease.

“That’s what I thought.”

You hate him. You really do. Except you don’t, not even the tiniest bit.

｡･:*:･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

#not the next part being the last #IM SO SO SO SAD #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bts army #bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts imagines

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kisakis-boyfriend · 2 months ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 3000!!!!!!!!!!!! Here’s to the next 77000:3

Can I please have wriothesley with the whole alphabet!!!!!???? I love him so much and your writing is literally so good I need more subby wriothesley in my life:(

Author's Note: asdfghjkl that would be so many people!! O_____O''' But thank you! I think we could all use more subby Wriothesley tbh. I wasn't able to finish this on the first day of his banner rerun, but I am posting it during his rerun. All Wriothesley wanters will be Wriothesley havers!!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

A master when it comes to aftercare, Wriothesley will allow you to smother him with affection a little bit, but he's also going to do the same to you.

He's the kind of person who really shows how much he cares about your well-being — believing that doms deserve the tenderness of aftercare just as much as the subs who get wrecked.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Wriothesley would be rather proud of his chest. He keeps himself fit — you kind of have to if you want to run an underwater prison — and his chest shows that off nicely. And obviously he knows that he has the juiciest, finest ass in all of Teyvat.

Of yours, oddly enough, he finds himself admiring your waist a lot. When he's watching you fuck him, he does end up staring at your waist and hips 😚

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

His cum is more liquidy than thick, and he usually doesn't shoot it very far. His cum tends to run down his shaft or gather on his stomach/whatever surface is under him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wriothesley has a reoccurring fantasy where you kidnap him from his office and whisk him away somewhere, tie him up, stuff all of his holes with toys and vibrators, and then leave him for a few days until his brain turns to mush.

Of course, this isn't practical since his job requires his presence at all times, but a man can dream, right? 💔

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced as a dom/top, but he really didn't have experience as a sub/bottom until he met you. Most of the people Wriothesley had hooked up with wanted him to top, so he did. It was a rare find indeed to meet someone who lusted after him in a different way.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

Bent over things. Bonus points if you bend him over something in his office. 😌

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I think he can be a little goofy, and you'll probably hear him nervously giggle quite a bit, but otherwise Wriothesley is somewhere in between.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Listen, it should be no secret that I like body hair, and I will spread my propaganda whenever possible– Wriothesley trims his pubic hair maybe once a month, just because it gets pretty thick and unruly. Otherwise, he allows his natural beauty to flourish~

(Also, Wriothesley has gorgeous dark chest hair. It looks beyond sexy when he's sweaty after an intense workout 🥵)

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Wriothesley is incredibly romantic during sex, and he would hope that you're the same. You can see how much he loves you by the look in his eyes. Subtle intimate actions also tell you how much he adores you and cherishes you — such as; grasping your arms and hands when you speed up, pounding him even faster.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Wriothesley definitely jerks off every other day. His job is not an easy one, and he can't ask you to constantly visit him to relieve the tension every waking second. So, he takes care of it when he has a spare moment.

Normally, he'll stick to fucking his fist to satisfy himself, but if he really needs that extra push, Wriothesley will insert a finger or two into himself, even though it's never as good as your cock.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding, bondage, some roleplay, exhibitionism, cock worship, body worship, and leashing/puppy play.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office for sure. Wriothesley will also sneak away to have sex just about anywhere in the Fortress of Meropide… it's a little concerning 😅

I can also see him having a thing for fucking out on the wild. On one of his rare visits up to the surface world, he'll plan a nice picnic date with you somewhere far away from populated areas, and you two will have rough sex after a romantic lunch~

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Pet names are a great way to subtly turn him on, especially if you use them sparingly but at just the right moments. Whispering in Wriothesley's ears will also do the trick, or getting close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Honestly? The thought of being the dom again has become a turn off.

You opened his mind to the world of bottoming, submitting, and giving control to someone else, and Wriothesley has no intentions of going back to the opposite. Maybe he could see himself being a submissive service top, but never a dom again.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He's fine with either, but Wriothesley has come to enjoy giving you head much more than he ever thought he would 😋

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It's entirely dependent on his mood, how his day went, what's going on at work, etc. Sometimes, rough sex is great to de-stress, other times, slow and sensual is what your darling needs.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan actually. An occasional quickie isn't a problem, especially if that's all you two can manage with your schedules, but you shouldn't make it a habit.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I'd say Wriothesley is a frequent risk-taker. Mostly when it comes to where you have sex though. Trying new positions is also fun for him.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

My god… stamina for days! Wriothesley can go multiple rounds every time you have sex, and he always hopes you can manage at least 2. He can handle long rounds as well.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has a few that you gave him as presents, and he definitely uses them if he's desperate enough. Usually though, Wriothesley won't use toys unless you're together.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing words are the most common occurrence — Wrio is a little too smooth for his own good. He definitely teases you when it comes to showing off his body too. He's the kind of guy who will undo another button on his shirt to see how you'll react, bend over to purposefully present his perfect round butt, and strike a provocative pose when he's half-naked after a workout. Whatever he can do to make your eyes glaze over with lust, Wriothesley will try out.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's not super loud, but he's not exactly silent either. You'll hear lots of deep grunts, panting, breathier sounds in general. The loudest noises you can pry from Wriothesley are sharp cries of pleasure when he cums after being particularly pent up.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Wriothesley is too strong for his own good, and he's broken several pieces of furniture before due to his strength. Sometimes he just grips the edge of a desk too tight and it crumbles. He's also ripped many sets of bedsheets before 😔

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

A solid 6 inches. He is cut, unfortunately, but his dick is still rather pretty. It's not quite as veiny as you might expect it to be too.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pretty damn high, and can you blame him? He literally lives at his workplace, spending his life underground—underwater—and rarely gets more than an hour to himself at a time. Although, even without taking all of that into account, I think he'd still have a naturally high libido. He's just built that way.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's not one to fall asleep immediately, not unless the sex happens in the middle of the night or something. He's a little more relaxed, yes, but he can stay awake just fine afterwards.

#my writing #requested #3000 follower celebration 🎉#headcanons #wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x male reader #wriothesley x reader #sub wriothesley #genshin smut #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #sub genshin #male reader #dom reader #dom male reader #sub male character #p.s. it took me 250 wishes to get c1 Wriothesley 🥹👍

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transhanniday · 3 months ago

Text

Adapt. Evolve. Become.: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal - SECOND EDITION!

In 2023 we released a fan-led volume of fanworks by and about trans non-binary, genderqueer and otherwise non-cis Fannibals. Now we're back by popular demand, to create a second edition and YOU can be involved!

We've extended submissions! You can now submit until February 28th 2025!

We'd especially love to see more:

Essays

non-fiction

personal pieces

memes

cosplay

fanart

We're still open to fanfic but as we have quite a lot on that front, we'd love to see other types of submissions.

SUBMIT HERE

NBC's Hannibal has resonated with many queer fans, and we know that being in the Hannibal, Hannigram and Hannibal Extended Universe fandom, and the support of Fannibals, has been part of many people's gender identity journeys. We want to capture that in a fandom led volume of non-fiction, featuring essays, creative nonfiction, personal accounts and art.

You may have even seen that Hugh Dancy was gifted a copy and had a very thoughtful conversation about the interpretation of Will Graham as a trans man.

IF YOU WISH TO SUBMIT WE URGE YOU TO READ THE EXISTING EDITION FIRST! You can read or download free here!

WHO should submit: Please ONLY SUBMIT IF:

you are aged 18 or over. For the sake of legalities, we are only accepting submissions from those legally considered adults in the region of publication - UK.

you are transgender, non-binary, genderqueer or otherwise non-cis.

OR you have a close relationship (sibling, partner etc) with someone who is transgender, non-binary, genderqueer or otherwise non-cis.

NB: The reason for the edition of cis creators is as a result of the feedback on the first edition regarding how much it spoke to people who had trans relatives or a trans partner and how it resonated with them and their (often) non-fandom partner/relative. We wanted to give them a chance to voice the impact of the show and fandom on their lives as people with close relationships with trans people.

WHAT submissions do we want:

Fanfiction (100 to 5000 words)

Fanart (including comics)

Personal piece / statement / testimony (pref. under 3000 words)

Creative non-fiction (up to 5000 words)

Essay (up to 5000 words)

Cosplay (photos of yourself in cosplay and/or instructions/tips on how to make trans friendly cosplay)

Other (any form of art, photography or writing not covered here including crafts, memes, playlists???)

Theme: Via one of the above mediums, we want you to share with us in as much or little detail as you’d like, your journey as a non-cis Fannibal in the Hannibal fandom, and/or the impact NBCs Hannibal has had on your gender journey.

A few points for consideration you may wish to explore:

Has the show and/or being part of the fandom helped you explore your gender, or made you feel more confident in expressing it - even if only online.

Has the fandom helped you with your transition and/or medical needs, such as donating for trans-clothing or surgeries?

Do you want to write an essay exploring the connection between NBCs Hannibal and non-cis fans? Or explore the trans-coding of Francis Dolarhyde?

Do you want to submit fic or art of Hannibal, Will or another character that expresses how you feel about your own gender identity?

PLEASE NOTE: if your submission is successful you are welcome to use your real name or an online handle for authorship, but you will have the option to publish anonymously or under a pseudonym if you would prefer.

YOU CAN submit multiple works. We may publish up to two pieces from each person if they are different types, e.g. one fanart AND one essay.

Timeline:

Submission period: ENDS 28 February 2025

Editing: March 2025

Final edited copies for proof by 31st May 2025

Publication: July 2025

Compensation: As a fan-led project we do not have any funding and so cannot offer monetary compensation. All contributors will receive at the least an e-copy of the collection. If we are able to establish funding (potentially via Kickstarter) we may be able to send each contributor a print copy, but will not be able to confirm until further in the process and cannot guarantee this.

If funding is not available, we will be able to offer contributors reduced cost print copies by charging only cost price. However, given the quality of the art printing of the print copies, this will still be a significant cost.

Content Restrictions:

Contributors must be transgender, non-binary, genderqueer or otherwise non-cis, OR in a close relationship with someone who is transgender, non-binary, genderqueer or otherwise non-cis.

Contributions must relate to NBCs Hannibal, HEU and/or the fandom

The contribution must be original. Previously published works may be considered, such as existing fanfic and fanart.

ABSOLUTELY NO GENERATIVE AI.

Explicit works welcome, but please give details in the sign up form, especially for any visual media.

It should go without saying, but we will not accept bigotry and hate speech: We may consider works that feature these things but do not glorify them. For example, we will consider works that discuss transphobia but not works that are transphobic.

FAQ under the cut!

What is Trans Hannigram Day? Trans Hannigram Day or TransHanniDay is a day of celebration for trans* fanworks and creators in the Hannibal, Hannigram and Hannibal Extended Universe fandom. On this day, old and new fanworks are shared with the intention of filling the timeline with trans* love!

Originally this event was Transcendence Fest, first held in December 2020. The first TransHanniDay was held on 8th April in 2022 in reaction to the release of a certain movie on that day.

Is this edition also for charity? We were thrilled to donate the profits from the 23-24 fiscal year to The Okra Project, and we're already on track for a similar donation to this year's nominated charity - Gendered Intelligence.

Will this collection only be focused on Hannigram? Technically the focus is on the fans, but we know the influence of NBCs Hannibal and the fandom itself goes beyond Hannigram. Both in written works and in art, other characters are accepted including those from NBCs Hannibal and those from other Mads and Hugh projects (Hannibal Extended Universe).

For example, if Bedelia De Maurier or Adam Raki resonated with you as part of your gender journey, we’d love to hear about it.

How can I prove I’m Trans*? We aren't expecting you to and in no way expect you to out yourself either online or in real life. We will take on trust that you are who and what you say you are, including if you are questioning, between labels or do not like to use labels.

As noted above, those who would feel more comfortable doing so, can have their work published under a pseudonym or anonymously.

Who is publishing this collection? This collection will be edited and published by Max Turner. Max is a gay transgender writer based in the UK, a Fannibal and the publisher of small indie press A Coup of Owls Press. This publication will not be associated with A Coup of Owls Press directly.

#transgender #nonbinary #genderqueer #fannibals #fannibal #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal extended universe #TransHanniDay #trans hannibal lecter #trans will graham #trans hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #nbc hannibal

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ravcnism · 10 months ago

Text

STRIKEOUT. ( PART 2 ) — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: An after-party. A conversation-turned-confrontation. Kenji finally meets the esteemed Toyo Bullet and struggles to define the difference between anger, terror, and infatuation.

# # TAGS: Even More Tension, Kenji Has a Good Relationship with His Team, Intense First Encounter, Domestic Sato Family Shenanigans

# # WARNINGS: Mature Language, Alcohol Consumption, Nothing Too Crazy, No Beta Again We Die Like Onda

Note: Okay, here we go: the actual second part. Again, I am so sorry for accidentally publishing my draft earlier — I am ill with embarrassment. But I’m very happy to know that people look forward to it! If you read the false-post, then you’ve only read half of the chapter. This one has over 3000 words more! Enjoy.

“It was a nail-biter of a game here at the New Tokyo stadium tonight, folks. Right off the bat, both teams were going neck and neck, toe-to-toe. And it seemed like neither one was willing to give an inch! Our home team managed to pull off a narrow victory in the end, and by narrow, I mean narrow, Kiba.”

“That is absolutely right, Sasaki. I truly have never seen anything like it in my entire career. And you know- you know I know a lot of baseball. You know I’ve been doing this for many years, but wow! Just- insane.”

“Truly a close call. Eight additional innings? To break the tie? I cannot believe it. Let me tell you, neither the Hiroshima Toyo Carp nor the Yomiuri Giants wanted to lose today.”

“If you look at the crowd, It looks like everyone’s been wanting to go home.”

Exhausted was an understatement. Kenji hadn’t felt this drained after a game since, well, only months ago: when he was still juggling the responsibilities of raising a baby Kaiju, carrying the weight of being Ultraman, and maintaining his reputation as a well-known baseball player. All of these, on top of the sleepless nights, no longer hindered him from his work. He usually left the stadium feeling brand new every single time — regardless of whether they won or lost. He had grown and learned to lean on people, to ask for help, accept defeat. Which was good and all that, but the point was: he was exhausted from this game. You had him panting for air like an overworked dog.

Shimura had Kenji on the field for longer than he should have been. While his younger, more egotistical self might have loved his moment in the spotlight, running base to base for six innings in a row was unsurprisingly really tiring. The teams had hit a clean tie by the ninth inning, and the tie-breaker lasted for eight more. You were eating their rookies alive and having their journeymen for dessert. When Shimura realized that Sato was the only one batting your pitches, he had him play for every round after the tie. The only times Kenji wasn’t on the field was when you weren’t either. Which wasn’t a lot. It scared him how you looked like you could throw that ball for days.

“Hiroshima’s L/n is just- an absolute unit, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is, Kiba. He certainly is. I mean his performance was near inhuman tonight. Each pitch was a gem and we- he really wanted us to know that he’s here, he’s ready, and he’s willing to change Japanese baseball. He was a major force out there on the field.”

“I cannot agree with you more. But credit where credit is due, we all know that the only reason the Giants are coming home with tonight’s win is because of none other than Ken Sato himself.”

“That’s right, Sato really put up a fight. L/n was throwing him off balance every time, but he always found his footing. I think tonight might have been the hardest I’ve seen him work. You know he- he usually makes his plays look effortless — disregarding last season’s slump.”

“I say he held his own very, very impressively. The team was right to rely on him. I know we’ve spoken a lot about their tension, but I’d say it’s their dynamic that really drove the point home. They were like- mirrors of each other out there. When you put two equal forces together, they deflect. You know what I’m saying?”

Kenji’s hand shook with a weakness he wasn’t familiar with. He stared at his calloused palm and noticed his fingers twitching. Shit. It really was some game. He might have been hitting the ball, but he was barely getting it through the field. Not only were your pitches fast, but there was weight to them, too. He was witnessing the caliber of your capabilities; understanding why you were the talk of every city.

The rest of the Giants came walking into the locker room, jeering and laughing amongst themselves. “That L/n is a real piece of work, ain't he?” Shirakumo, number 24, sat himself next to Kenji, unlacing his shoe. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Did you see the look on Tateoka’s face?” Yuki laughed, smacking his thigh. “Dude was scared shitless!”

“Hey!” Tateoka frowned in reply, tugging his jersey off his arms. “You try standing in front of that guy and telling me you don't feel a little threatened.” He shuddered, remembering the look in your eyes. Dark and pointed and menacing. “He was staring me down like he was gonna—”

“Eat you alive?” Kenji scoffed.

The team went silent, then erupted into a cluster of teasing ‘oooh’s. God. It reminded him of highschool.

“Oohh, yeah.” Yamada, number 21, slid over to him with a teasing tone. He wrapped an arm around Kenji’s shoulder and squeezed him closer. “I don't think I've ever seen Sato so shaken!”

He laughed, playfully pushing him away. He was also actually really sore on that shoulder. Hell, he could already feel the pain he’d need to go through just to get up tomorrow. He was going to need another ice bath. The rest of the boys jumped in on the jokes.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you Ken?” Tokuda opened his locker, grabbing a shirt from the top shelf. He whistled. “Like he wanted your head on a plate.”

Tanaka chuckled. “He wanted you dead, man!”

Kenji rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Let's not get carried away. I never said I was shaken.”

“But that last bat was sweet as hell.” Yuki nodded. “I doubt any of us would've gotten through the guy if it weren't for Sato.”

“Well, duh.” Shirakumo shrugged. None of the Giants denied it. Ken was their star player. And tonight proved it more than ever. “We owe you for drinks, bud. Give us a date and we'll treat ya’ to someplace you like.” He slapped Ken’s back affectionately, which elicited a pained groan. “Shit, sorry.”

Kenji’s watch started beeping. He flinched at the sound, eyes widening slightly. “Uh, see you in a sec, guys. I gotta take this.”

He was there a moment, then gone the next. Kenji rushed himself out the hallways and into an empty locker room to answer Mina’s call. “Hey!” he greeted, anxiously. A screen projected itself from his watch and lit up his face. “Hey. Hi. What's wrong? Everyone alright? I know I said I'd be home soon, but the game took way longer than–”

He was interrupted by cheering. His father clapped and whooped with excitement as Emi occupied the background, screeching with glee. Kenji could see the ground shaking as she was jumping around and doing her special dance. One of Mina’s arms was protruding from the wall and waving celebratory flags. It immediately put a smile on his face, easing the tension from his shoulders. He was always happy to see everyone alright, and even happier to see them as their silly selves.

“Kenji!” cheered Hayao. “That was an incredible game! You were unstoppable!” The professor chuckled. Emi picked him up into a hug, slightly toppling the camera over. His legs swung like a ragdoll’s. “Okay, okay girl-”

Ken laughed, slightly shaking his head. “Easy, Emi. Put Grandpa down.”

“It was a very impressive game, Ken. Perhaps one of your bests.” Mina’s calculative yet affectionate voice echoed from his watch.

Hayao fell to the floor with an ‘oof’. “You didn't tell me you were playing against THEE Mets’ Bullet!” He scrambled to stand up, barely leaning on his cane. “I wasn’t even aware that he was signed into the Carp!”

Kenji’s smile immediately faded. “Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “He was alright, I guess. And we don’t actually know if he signed into it or if he was traded. We barely heard anything about him from the press.”

“Alright?” Professor Sato gasped, appalled. “Kenji, he was spectacular! He’s a lot like you, you know. I’ve always suspected that the both of you equalled in skill, but to see it in action? Phew.” He wiped some pretend sweat off of his forehead. “What a show! Eight extra innings to break a tie? Unbelievable! I highly doubt that he was traded. Who in their right mind would purposely lose a player like that?”

Kenji scoffed. “He wasn’t that good.” His sore limbs would like to say otherwise.

“He had you chasing after his pitches like a dog!”

“I don’t like that analogy.”

“I ought’ to rewatch that documentary they made about him. You know they’ve done studies on the physics of his throws.”

“Dad.”

“And how fortunate for Hiroshima to have gotten him out of all teams! I can tell that this season is going to turn around really fast. Just today he’s already scored-”

“Dad!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hayao chuckled. “I’m just very excited to see the both of you on the same field.” Kenji sighed, nodding his head. “Anyway, congratulations on the win, my boy. I’m so proud of you. I always am. Get home safe. It may be late, but we still have a lot of leftovers from dinner!” Emi made a noise that let him know she was waiting, too.

Going home sounded like heaven. Ken wanted nothing more but to rest. Maybe kick back and have a chocolate shake while he and his family watched cartoons to fall asleep. It was the perfect way to end his night. It had been an unexpectedly long day and he looked forward to tomorrow’s well-earned break. Eight extra innings might even win him a second day of rest. Or a third, if Shimura agreed not to schedule him for the next game. Which, he doubted, if it meant you’d be playing.

“I’m on my way.” He ended the call, and opted to take the fastest way out, desperate to avoid the press.

Ken collapsed onto the floor, snuggling into Emi’s arm. Having washed up and eaten his dinner, he felt the last remains of his adrenaline-fueled strength die out like a dwindling flame. He felt as if his limbs were about to fall off. “Ugh,” he groaned. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.” Emi didn’t much care. She seemed to be preoccupied by the new ( gigantic ) stacking blocks that Mina made for her. Ken sighed, sinking deeper into her arm. “She always smells so good after her baths.” The baby Kaiju’s warm and heavy grasp felt like a weighted blanket. It was a comfort that Ken would find nowhere else.

Professor Sato walked past them, chuckling into his coffee mug. “That, she does. You should have seen her earlier, you know. I’ve never seen her so invested in a game.”

Kenji hummed. “Is that right?” He rolled onto his stomach, facing Emi. “Hey. Baby.” He poked her cheek. “Is that true? Did you cheer for Daddy? I bet you did.” Giving into his cuteness aggression he rubbed at her cheeks. Emi expressed her annoyance through a small squeak. “God, that mean old Bullet had Daddy running laps, didn’t he? We hate him, don’t we?” Kenji pushed her cheeks up and down, leading her into a nod. “Yes we dooo.”

Professor Sato laughed. “Whatever happened to sportsmanship?”

“Whatever happened to loyalty?” He pouted. “My own father, rooting against me. I would never root against you, Emi.” Wanting to return to her blocks, Emi lifted Kenji up by his torso and placed him on her head. The batter laughed, laying on her with no protest.

“What!” The professor exclaimed. “I never said I was rooting against you. I was just— feeling enthusiastic, that’s all. For both teams.”

Mina entered the room, her mechanisms humming faintly. “Good evening, everyone.” The Sato’s greeted her accordingly. “I have a message for Ken.”

The mentioned Ken slumped into his daughter, rolling his eyes. “Here we go. I bet it’s the press.” He scoffed. “Let me guess, at least 30 emails asking for my statement. Or, better yet, it’s Shimura warning me not to miss the next game.” He raised his fist, mocking a reporter’s tone: “We’ve witnessed baseball history tonight, folks! Blah, blah, blah.”

“Actually, it’s an invitation for something else.” Mina hovered closer. “An event.”

This caught his attention. Kenji tilted his head. “For what?”

“A party, hosted by various sponsors.”

“Bit too early for an afterparty, don’t you think?” Ken sighed, resting his head on folded arms. “We’ve only won one game.”

“I suppose it’s to celebrate Mr. L/n as well.” Mina would shrug if she had the shoulders to do so. “His coming to Japan is quite a big deal.”

“Great.” Kenji was half-asleep by then, eyes already closed. “All the more reason for me not to go.” The professor had settled himself onto one of the desks, getting into some light reading. Emi had grown tired herself, and decided that she was not interested in the blocks anymore. Waddling to her spot, (with Kenji still on her head), she yawned, and opted for some much-needed sleep.

Mina’s light blinked. “I think you should go, Ken.”

The rightfielder cracked one eye open. “And why would I do that?”

“I think it would benefit you to interact with Mr. L/n more.”

“Mina, that’s literally the last thing I want.”

“Is it?”

Ken frowned. “What do you mean, ‘is it’? Of course it is.”

“Your vitals seemed to say otherwise earlier.”

Kenji scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was keeping careful watch of your vitals, as I always do. I have your daily status tracked and recorded.”

Kenji couldn't get rid of Mina’s voice in his head. Even amidst the warm crowd, with chatter swaying smoothly atop of light r&b music, he felt as if he could still hear her words ringing in the back of his mind. It remained vivid, though she had told it to him days ago. It was as clear as day. Like a broken record.

“Believe it or not, the heart beats differently for every emotion. There is a difference between fear, anxiety, excitement, and—”

Kenji stared at you from across the room, watching as you conversed with your team, nursing a glass of cold, hard whiskey. He watched as you bowed your head and smiled, listening for the faint, muffled sound of your laughter. He wondered what you were talking about; what joke might have made you grin that hard. He wondered why you seemed to illuminate a room, and why everyone seemed so drawn. His eyes were caught in the way the colorful lights sank into your hair.

“—Infatuation.”

You looked up, and your eyes met his. Kenji flinched. He felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, he thought. Mina was definitely going to catch that. She had probably already marked it down to tease him for it later. You held his gaze for longer than he could have standed and greeted him with that same annoying wink. The same one you gave him on the field. Confident, snarky, playful. You lifted your glass and took a sip, eyes still trained on his.

“What you may perceive as frustration for him might just be the opposite.”

Kenji's jaw clenched. Mina had no idea what she was talking about.

And he would prove her wrong tonight.

Like a soldier marching into battle, he waded through the party to make his way towards you. Was he intimidated? Yes. Unfortunately, he was. But he knew his way around a crowd, and his weapon-of-a-tongue knew all the right talk to make a conversation work. He was sociable like that. He was a poet, a wordsmith. If you weren't careful, one little exchange could have you wrapped around his finger. Some people called it his charisma, some blamed it on his irresistible good looks. Either way, Ken took it. He wasn't going to deny the fact that people loved talking to him — though he, admittedly, didn't really like talking to them in return. But he could do it. He could make it work.

Besides, how bad could you be?

With a newfound confidence, Ken dared to get closer. The distance between you and him lessened, and– oh, fuck, was that your cologne? He blinked. You smelled so good. Why did you smell so good? “Hey. Hi.” Shit. Abort mission. No, it's too late. Too awkward to back out. You were already looking at him. “L/n, yeah?” He spoke your name like he only just remembered you upon seeing you. When in truth, he hadn't stopped thinking about you since that damn first pitch. “Some game, huh?” Ken held his hand out for you to shake. ‘Fuck, I hope he doesn't notice how clammy it is.’

“Ken Sato.” It was the first time he heard your voice, as well as the first time he heard you say his name. He didn't like how his body reacted. There was a small shiver down his spine, a tingling flutter in his chest. You took his hand. Yours was cold. So cold. Kenji concluded that the icy glass of whiskey you had placed on the counter was to blame. He could feel your callouses against his. Your hands mirrored one another, marked with the battlescars of your sport. He was oddly sensitive to every detail. Touching you was.. a sensation.

You gave him a firm shake before promptly letting go.

“That's me,” he said, miraculously. Ken was oscillating between panic and confidence at a speed that likely wasn't normal. He was holding his own, though. Like the real champ he was. It was surreal to be standing in front of you without a ball to keep you apart. No bat, no competition. Just you, and a few shots of alcohol. “You adjusting into Japan alright?”

“As well as I can.” You shrugged. You had a tone to you; an elegant air of grace and self-assurance. You had no need to raise your voice because you knew he'd do his best to listen. It was pissing him off. “It's definitely different from the States.”

“I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised to see you here.” Ken usually knew what to say when it came to conversations. He never blanked out at interviews, nor left dead air hanging at conferences. But speaking with you made him feel like his vocabulary was on a limit. “After a game like that?” He whistled. “A lesser man would've taken a week off.”

“But we're not lesser men, are we, Ken?” A waitress passed by. Without the need to look, you had grabbed two shots of vodka from her tray. You handed the other one to him. “That's why you're here, too.”

He stared at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Exactly.” He took the shot from your hand and bumped the rim against yours. “Cheers.”

You grinned. “Cheers.”

Kenji tilted his head back, downing his drink, tasting the fire run down his throat. His face screwed up a little, but not enough for you to notice. You did the same, sighing the heat out of your nose. You allowed a small laugh to slip past your lips. “Japan’s liquor is surprisingly stronger.”

Kenji chuckled. “Yeah. If you know where to look.” The music felt like it was growing louder. He leaned in to speak to you better. “You know, I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting.”

You nodded. “Neither can I.”

“The Mets and Dodgers have always been at each other's throats, and yet—”

“Our schedules just never lined up.” You scoffed. “What are the odds of that, huh?”

It really was such a coincidence. If Ken had known that your interactions would've fired the press up as much as it did now, he would've fought to face you sooner. “When was it?” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember. “Playoffs. 2019, I think. The Mets were set to face the Dodgers.”

“2019,” you repeated, brows raised. “I was there.” Kenji took notice of the way your head slightly shifted to the side. Like you were trying to get a better look at him. He swallowed thickly. “I was there.” You shrugged. “You weren't.”

“I was overseas.” He was wanting another drink. But, speaking to you was surprisingly not horrible. “Didn't get back until 3 months in. And when I did—”

“I wasn't there,” you chuckled. “Alright. I remember. 2019, I was gone for half the season. Injury.”

“The world was in shambles.” Ken grinned at you. A second waiter passed by. He grabbed you another glass of whiskey. He took scotch for himself. “See what I mean? It's like– divine intervention.”

“Big word.” To say that fate had a hand to play in yours and his meeting was beyond your beliefs. You didn't place your trust in things like that. But to know that he had thought about it was charming.

“Hey.” Ken shrugged. “Ya’ never know.”

The music shifted, and so did the lights. There was a moment of quiet between the both of you, and in that time, you found a common interest in people-watching. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nor the absence of something to talk about. The two of you merely agreed upon the minutes it took to watch the party unfold. A good number of the guests were already drunk. The dance floor was alight and occupied mostly by women. Ken rested his weight on one foot, sighing at his still-aching muscles. He wondered if you were any sore too.

“They love it, don't they?” You leaned your back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest. Ken took quick notice of the necklace worn loosely around your neck. A silver dogtag, similar to his. “The drama. The intensity. Even the things that go on beyond the field.”

Ken shrugged. “It's baseball. Who doesn't?”

“Exactly.” You smiled. “Which is why it's important to always let the home team win the first game.”

It took a moment for Kenji to process what you said. He was distracted by the colorful lights, his favorite song coming on, and a tray full of hors d'oeuvres. “Mhm.” He reached over to take one, before— “Wait.” His brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Hm?” You had your lips pressed together into a thin line. Your expression feigned innocence, a stark contrast to your bold statement. “I said it's important to let the home team win the first game.”

Kenji made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He couldn't believe his ears. Had he been standing by the speakers for too long? “No, I heard what you said. What I'm asking is what you're saying.” It was a dare of a reply, with a tone that commanded: go on. Clarify.

Your smile refused to leave your face. Nearing the batter, ever so carefully, you whispered:

“I'm saying you won because I let you.”

Kenji blinked.

And there it was. He knew you were too good to be true. Goddammit, he knew it! Beneath your seemingly-perfect self was something cold and rotten and he called it. He fucking called it. How thrilled he was to be correct, and oh, how utterly terrified.

But this was good. This was absolutely good. He needed something to hold onto, something to keep himself afloat. The next time he found himself drowning in your eyes again, he'd only need to remember that you were a grade A asshole. That you had the audacity to claim that you were in full control of the game. Surely it would solve all his problems.

Kenji broke out into a laugh. It started out as a small cluster of sarcastic chuckles, but erupted into actual laughter. You were funny. So, so funny. Unbeknownst him, you were watching with amusement. “Because you let me!” Kenji repeated, smiling, but, exasperated. Two can play at that game. “Right. Of course. Totally not because you're an average pitcher and I can bat anything you throw.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” You shrugged. Your attention wasn't on him anymore. You were watching the crowd, disinterested.

Kenji felt his eye twitch. “That's big talk coming from someone who got struck out by a rookie.” He was referring to the eighth inning, when Tateoka managed to bat your pitch into a homerun.

“That's right, Sato.” You laughed, low and sultry. “Batted by a rookie. How could I have struck you out at the last inning but be batted by a rookie?” You tilted your head at him, brows knitted together. You spoke in a sickeningly soft tone. Like you were helping a toddler understand something simple. “Doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, does it?”

Kenji was growing flustered. His face was warm and his fist was itching to meet your cheek. Nobody spoke to him this way. Sure guys had been mean to him before, but it was mostly because they were threatened by him. They'd tried to put him down and pick apart his flaws, but what you were doing was something different. You weren't claiming that he was weak, you were claiming that you were stronger. You didn't deny the amount of talent that Ken had in his body, but you were fully convinced that you had more. You were bigger, smarter, and better. And you had him under your control.

“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” God, your voice. It infuriated him. It drove him insane. You leaned in, closer, whispering your words, as if hearing you through the party wasn't hard enough. He could smell the whiskey on your breath. It mingled with your cologne. It was intoxicating. “Are you blushing?”

He scoffed in disbelief. “No.” Except he totally was. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face. His breathing had gone shallow, his heartbeat rapid. “Why would I– Tch. You— You don't know what you're talking about.” Holy shit. He was a mess.

He wanted so desperately to blame it on the alcohol, but he knew damn well he wasn't drunk enough to be acting the way he was. He was stumbling over his words stone-cold sober.

You were smiling. He was dying, and you were smiling. “You amuse me, Sato.”

Ken took a cautious step back, knowing that being that close to you for too long was only going to make him worse. “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” He had to retaliate somehow. Like a soldier fumbling for his sword, he had to get up and do something. “You don't think I don't know what this is? Where you're heading?”

You tilted your head. “Do enlighten me.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sure. Celebrity-Athlete from America waltzes into Japan thinking he's the shit— that he can rule the world. He's a shiny new toy and everyone's just dying to catch a look. Nevermind that his old team traded him off, nevermind that he goes home to an empty penthouse. He's got the stats to prove his skills and he thinks he doesn't need anything else.” Ken dared to retake a step forward. He sort of regretted it when you didn't take a step back. “Well, guess what,” he continued. “I've been where you are. I know how you feel, what you're thinking.

Everything you're trying to be is a shadow of what I already was.”

There was a beat of silence. You weren't smiling anymore. You were staring at him, stone-faced, seemingly indifferent.

Kenji narrowed his eyes. “So don't go talking to me like you're any better.”

He didn't know what to expect. You were quiet for such a long time that he thought you were going to snap. He partially expected a punch to the chin. But you were calm. There wasn't a trace of irritation on your face. Instead, you set your glass of whiskey — now empty — on the counter behind you. With a sigh, you shoved a hand in your pocket. “Are you done?”

Kenji blinked.

“Let me tell you something, Sato.” You raised a brow at him. Ken felt his heartbeat pick up again. Your once-approachable gaze shifted into something cold and commanding. He swallowed thickly. “There is a difference between you and me. And that difference is the fact that I don't settle.”

Kenji was glaring at you, brows fixed together.

A teammate called you from the other side of the room. You nodded at him, once, then returned your focus to the Yomiuri Prince. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tauntingly, smiling at him as if you'd known him your whole life. “I hope last season’s slump accustomed you to the feeling of losing those points.”

Kenji wanted to say something, but his lips refused to move. Somehow, the blaring music in the background had faded into a muffled blur. All he could hear was your voice. Like a moth to a flame.

You winked at him. Again. And like before, his body reacted in ways he didn't like. You squeezed his shoulder once, before leaving to go to your friend. With your back turned against him, Kenji released the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He clutched his chest, watching wide-eyed as you moved through the crowd. He could still smell your cologne. The last thing he heard from you was,

“I'll see you on the field.”

taglist: @fairy-lenaa @moonjellyfishie @witchygod — Thank you for your patience!

#kenji sato #ken sato x reader #x reader #ultraman rising #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader

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starryknight-tarot · 2 years ago

Text

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls✨ Today we will be looking into what you will love about your future spouse! I know this is really late but I have been a busy bee recently and trying to set up paid personal readings for yall. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. The artist for pictures is @tnk_gr on instagram.

Pile 1

Cards: Ten of Swords, Strength, The Tower, Eight of Swords rx, Two of Wands, Fours of Wands, Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Cups Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands

Pile 1, you will love your fs's vunerablity. You may have been surrounded by a lot of people that don't like to express themselves and share their emotions. These people have even encouraged you to be emotionally closed off as well. But your fs is the complete opposite. A very emotional individual, they know they can rely on you when they are struggling and it will be refreshing to see someone be so open and honest about how they are feeling. I am getting that for some of you, you may originally be uncomfortable about how they express themselves because you were taught to hold back your feelings and keep them locked up. But your fs will teach you that it is healthy and normal to express your feelings when you are having a hard time, and to share your feelings and opinions. You will see your fs as a strong and brave person for being able to express themselves the way they do since it can be really hard to admit when you are struggling. I see this connection as a very healing and healthy connection. Your fs is like a beaming beautiful light in the darkness for you Pile 1. I am getting that they will have a shining smile and a very contagious energy. You will love how your fs will encourage you to do things you never thought you could do. The things that used to scare and intimidate you suddenly don't feel so scary when they are around. Scared of rocking climbing? When your fs is cheering you on like your own personal cheerleader, you feel like you can achieve anything. But I don't feel like this courage will be only when they are around. They just help you realize that you are strong, powerful, and can do anything you put your mind to. Ugh so cute Pile 1. I am also hearing that they won't push you to do anything you aren't comfortable with and will take their time with you when you may not be ready to tackle certain things. Overall Pile 1, you will love how fun and silly and encouraging your fs is. I also feel like they will give the best hugs and will know just how to seduce you. Last tiny note spirit left with me is that you may love their fat wallet LMAO (also heard some 18+ messages but it ain't that kind of reading (,,>﹏<,,)

Advice Cards:

A change in attitude towards the greater good could be beneficial Your guides and teachers are telling you that they hear you and are helping You are wiser than you think You are greater than your story Learn through reversals. Hold the opposing viewpoint for insight Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: The World, Ten of Wands, Five of Wands, The Magician, King of Swords rx, Three of Cups, Four of Wands, Queen of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands

Ngl I am getting that some of yall are thinking of your celebrity crush when you read these tarot readings and I ain't gonna confirm or deny that your fs is your celebrity crush, but I am saying it ain't unlikely with this pile. Of course this is only for a very small amount of you, but I felt it strong enough to mention. If not a literal celebrity, your fs feels like a celebrity to you. They may be really popular or have a lot of friends. I heard frat boy but that isn't for everyone. For you Pile 2, I feel like you will love how your fs treats you. I feel like your fs will act a certain way around other people and try to be chill and cool but as soon they see you they just melt and just act like a lost puppy. You bring out a side of them that not a lot of people get to see and you love that. I also feel like your fs will do big gestures for you like a big bouquet of your favorite flowers or write you love songs. It's giving Jackson from Sex Education vibes, especially when he asked out Maeve (sorry if you haven't watched it). Spirit keeps telling that they are really attractive and that you will find them very attractive. I am hearing some of yall will wanna draw them. I feel like yall will have a really close connection, you will probably be really good friends before dating, maybe even childhood friends. You will love the hard work and enthusiasm they put into the things they are passionate about. Your fs may be really artistic and talented, they have a lot of potential to achieve great things. I am also hearing that they are really compassionate and caring, especially about the people around them. They wanna make a difference in the world and help people that need help and help deal with problems that we have struggled. They really care about the Earth, they may even own a few plants and take care of the regularly. They are very ambitious and thoughtful and you absolutely swoon over it. But I also feel like they are just a really charming person, it's almost hard not to love them.

Advice Cards:

Ask and you shall receive Act on what you know It's time to try something new! Give yourself your own approval Be alert for your opportunity Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off

Channeled Songs:

(specifically at 2:47 lol)

Pile 3 Cards: Page of Cups, Eight of Wands rx, Judgement rx, The Star, Three of Swords rx, The Sun, Ten of Wands, Knight of Cups Back of the Deck: Ten of Swords

Pile 3, for your fs, I am hearing that you will be in love with their whole personality overall. In your eyes, they are just such a beautiful individual, someone that shines brighter than the Sun and radiates the energy of the most beautiful star in the solar system. You can tell how important your relationship will be for them and they are just the most loyal puppy. They are the kind of partner you make videos of, showing how you know they won't ever cheat on you. I really think you are the only person on your fs's mind, running around rent free and they never try to hide it. Your fs gives off such cute introvert vibes, like you wanna squish their cheeks cute. They seem really shy and quiet but I feel like you may wanna take them places, I am seeing specifically clubs or just places with bright colors. But I feel like your fs will let themselves go and feel free around you. They may be a little squishy in the face or just a very squishy person lol. You will also really love their body, spirit keeps showing me flashs of someone's body, specially their arms. They seem very muscular and veiny. I am getting such gentle giant energy from your fs. I keep seeing Superman from the show My Adventures with Superman. You might also really like their chest, they may have a big chest area. The conversations you and your fs will have are gonna flow so well, like you've never met someone that has connected with you on this level. You will have a lot in common. I feel like you have interests that you think a lot of people will judge you for but your fs will never judge your interests and always show so much interest in the things you wanna say. You may be a talker and I feel like they are a listener, always wanted to hear what's happening next in your life. You will love how they take the time to get to know you, they don't wanna rush things with you, they just want things to move at their own pace and let your relationship flow naturally. I am also getting you will love how close they are with your family and friends, everyone loves them and loves you guys together. (my goodness I also got 18+ message for this pile but it ain't that kinda reading (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) )

Advice Cards:

You are divinely protected. Remind yourself how safe you are It's time to challenge old beliefs Keep the faith. Stay intentioned. Your perseverance will pay off Seek to understand from a place of connection rather than separation You are intuitively gifted. Trust your guidance Your child self needs your attention

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Ten of Swords rx, Ten of Pentacles, Five of Cups, The Chariot, Seven of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles rx, The Devil rx, Knight of Pentacles Back of the Deck: The Moon

Honestly Pile 4, I feel like you are the type of person to prefer someone "bad" over someone who is "good" cause you want adventure or something, and then get your heart broken by a real bad boy/girl. Well I feel like your fs will actually fulfill your bad boy/girl craving without breaking your heart. Like your fs is like your exact type but almost even better cause you realize they are better for you then what you usually like. Your fs is giving strong Alhaitham from Genshin Impact vibes. They are really smart and studious. You will really like how their brain works and how they seem to know everything, like they could talk about things you don't understand all day and you would still find it the most interesting thing ever. This connection is giving such Y/N in a fan fiction vibes my goodness. They are also probably pretty well off or make really good money and they like to gift you expensive things. Your fs seems really mysterious but I feel like they are caring in their own way. Like one day you think they are upset but they were actually just feeling shy that day or worried that you saw their their plans for a date. Which leads me to my next point which is that I feel like you will love how your fs shows their love for you. I don't think they will express themselves very much but they will surprise you with the cutest little date ever or get you something you were talking about to show that they listen. Like, I keep seeing the cutest picnic in the most aesthetically beautiful place and it's all so cute and you just melt like knees are BUCKLED. I also feel like they will have the CUTEST flustered face that only you ever see and have that effect on them. They are a secret simp and you eat it up. Your fs is also an amazing cook, they make the most delicious food you have ever seen and it tastes even better. Your fs is someone you can see yourself growing old with, starting a beautiful family, and settling down somewhere quiet. I heard "I feel like anything is possible with you by my side.". You guys will compliment each other really well and I am honestly living for this connection. You have strong sun and moon vibes. I see yall bickering playful but it's never in a mean way, your words are always filled with pure love.

Advice Cards:

No better time exists than right now Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy! It is important to ask for help Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure You need to make the first move Give up resistance in your current situation Awareness opens a field of possibility in your life

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

I also wanna thank yall so much for the messages you leave on my readings. I tear up all the time from the things yall write. It means so much that these messages reach you well and resonate with you! I hope this reading resonates well with you!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ❤

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qiyutism · 22 days ago

Text

Close My Eyes, and Fall Into You

summary: rafayel really likes your hands. like, a lot. and he makes that fact very evident when taking care of you after returning home from a long, tiring day of work. (really sucky summary, but i had a vision and just got a little carried away)

content warnings: tiniest bit of angst towards the end if you squint really hard, but nothing major. also no smut

word count: 2,387

author’s note: i wrote this over the course of two whole weeks because i really wanted to do my vision justice, and was just busy with school </3 yes, the title is from a frank ocean song (pink matter, ft andre 3000) because i totally see rafayel listening to his music. also i looked over this probably one good time so i sincerely apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes :’)

It was past midnight by the time you had finally made it home. Much later than you had hoped you would make it home tonight, unfortunately. The day had been long and especially tiring, filled with meetings, paperwork, and strenuous training that left you feeling completely exhausted. You were thankful that you could even manage to make it to the front steps with how drained and heavy your entire body felt. The only thing that kept you going was the thought of being able to sink into bed and fall asleep for hours.

Maybe even days…

Smiling slightly at the thought, you step through the front door, the lingering scent of paint and the sound of nearby ocean waves instantly comforting you, wrapping around you like a warm hug. Rafayel is comfortably laid on the couch, nose deep in a book, though as he hears you come in and set down your things his gaze instantly locks onto you instead. The lamp on the side table emitted a soft warm light, faintly illuminating the room. A light breeze flows into the living area from the big open windows, allowing the sheer curtains to dance lightly in the wind.

You swiftly rid yourself of your shoes and make your way to the couch, finally letting your body relax as you plop yourself next to Rafayel. He decides to set the book down on the side table, quickly taking note of the groan that escapes your lips as you feel your tired body slump into the soft couch, letting your head fall back onto the pillows. It was the first time all day your body wasn’t so tense, and it felt so freeing.

You glance at Rafayel, hearing him shuffle around as he now moves to sit up completely from his previous position on the couch. He props his arm up on the back of the couch, holding his head up with his hand with his usual playful grin decorating his face.

“Long day, cutie?” he teased slightly.

“You could certainly say that.” You respond, letting another sigh escape your lips as the draining events of the day replayed in your mind like a flashback.

“You should get it off your chest. Come on, I’m all ears.” he suggests, scooting closer to you on the couch, a small gesture inviting you to talk about your day.

You slowly lift your head up, not even knowing where to start about everything that had happened today. It had seemed like it was just one thing after another, as if the universe had been slowly torturing you throughout your work day.

You go on and on about how you were pulled into meeting after meeting, desperately fighting the urge to fall asleep to the droning of people's voices. How tall the mountains of paperwork were that you were unfortunately tasked with reading through and sorting. How you spent hours training, constantly pushing your body to its limit and testing your endurance to ensure you were in top shape to battle wanderers.

Everything came out like a dam bursting as you went on and on. You don’t even know how long you had been rambling, so focused on your own thoughts and complaints that you barely register Rafayel’s quiet and low “mhm” and “keep going” as you talked, reassuring you that he was still intently listening.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze never left your face, seemingly committing every detail of your face to memory, even while you were in the middle of ranting your heart out. Rafayel was looking at you as if you were a rare piece of art, completely mesmerized and lost in admiration.

And you especially didn’t notice when he slowly took your right hand, briefly holding it in his and sharing your warmth.

You only begin to snap back to reality when you feel his long, slender fingers tracing circles and patterns in your palm. The repetitive motion helped you calm down, your voice growing quiet and soft as the sensation on your hand seemed to slowly erase all your troubles from your mind.

Noticing you had trailed off and gone quiet, Rafayel spoke up, filling the momentary silence.

“Cat got your tongue now?” he quipped. You squirm slightly, looking away and pouting dramatically to try and hide the slight blush creeping up on your cheeks at the intimate moment. You tug your hand back from his grasp, crossing your arms and adding to your theatrics.

“Oh shut up,” you giggled, though your laughter started to transform into a deep yawn. You fanned away the faint tears welling up in your eyes, your tiredness becoming more apparent.

“Let’s get you cleaned up for bed cutie.” Rafayel spoke, a hint of laughter sprinkled in his words.

Before you could even attempt to muster up the strength to push yourself up from the couch, you felt strong arms begin to scoop you up instead, causing you to yelp slightly from the unexpected gesture.

“Raf, I can walk just fine on my own y’know?” you giggled, ultimately leaning into his embrace as he walks you to your shared bathroom.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, cutie. I got you, don’t worry.” He reassures, playful smirk now turned into a full smile as he leans down to plant a small kiss to your forehead.

He slowly sets you down on top of the cold bathroom countertop while he begins to run the water for a bath. You simply watch in adoration as he repeatedly checks the temperature of the water and even drops in a lavender colored bath bomb, the soft aroma of lavender quickly filling up the bathroom bringing a smile to your lips.

Rafayel, now satisfied with the bath he’s drawn, redirects his full attention back to you, hands immediately going to your waist as he slowly guides you off the counter to stand. You assist one another in removing the other’s clothes, both of you purposefully taking your time in removing each article of clothing.

No matter how many times you had seen Rafayel fully bared to you, it always fascinated you just how godly he looked. As if every part of him was painstakingly and meticulously sculpted over time. Every feature of his was something to be marvelled over and worshipped.

Rafayel steps back first, taking your hand in his once again and effectively breaking you out of your thoughts. He steps into the bath, waiting until you step in as well to fully sit down.

He guides you to sit between his legs, allowing you to lean back against his chest. The hot water is already proving to do wonders for your body as you feel your muscles relaxing, easily soaking the day’s stress away.

The bathroom was quiet, save for the water lightly splashing around in the tub. The sweet smell of lavender wafts through the air, the water making your body feel almost as light as a feather, the warmth that you and Rafayel shared being so close together, it was all the perfect mix to slowly lure your mind to sleep.

You let yourself fully relax, giving in to Rafayel’s soft touch as he lathered up your body wash. You rested peacefully against his chest as he began to wash you off, your consciousness fading in and out.

Light touches against your hand cause you to slowly wake from your sleep, blinking your eyes open as you stretch slightly. Immediately, you recognize you’re no longer in the bathtub with its warm water surrounding you. Now, a different kind of warmth envelopes you in the soft bed and covers you find yourself wrapped up in.

Small rays of moonlight shining through the windows of the bedroom allow you to see Rafayel laid in front of you, his eyes focused on rubbing circles on the back of your hand, almost like a massage. Your bodies are close – so close you can faintly feel his breath brush against your face when he exhales. Sensing your small movement, he looks up to see your now opened eyes.

“Looks like my Sleeping Beauty is awake now.” His voice is a low whisper, as if he’s trying to keep a secret just between the two of you.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence shared between the two of you. Neither of you choosing to speak, but rather, to show more than words could ever say. Rafayel takes your hand in his, deciding that simply tracing it is no longer good enough. As if in slow motion, he raises your hand to his lips and proceeds to press soft kisses against your skin.

He takes his precious time starting at your finger tips, making his way agonizingly slow towards your knuckles, and of course not forgetting to linger over your palms. The affectionate gesture leaves a light blush dusting your cheeks.

Rafayel had been so obsessed with your hands all night, and it’s left you quite flustered each time he showers you with his attention. But you can’t help but wonder where this fixation seemed to come from.

Before Rafayel could reach beyond your wrists with his kisses, you move both of your hands to cup his face, not missing the small hitch in his breath at the sudden movement. You watch as his eyes glance at your hands before looking directly at you, as if he was deeply lost in a trance. With his full attention on you, you decide to voice your question aloud.

“What is it today with you and my hands Raf?” You playfully tilt your head as you move your thumb to caress his cheek, watching as he leans even further into your touch. The sight reminds you of when you’re petting a cat, how they rub their entire body against your hand like they never want you to let go.

As Rafayel processes your question, he moves to cover your left hand on his cheek, mimicking your motions as he rubs his thumb against your hand as well. He looks off into the distance, avoiding your gaze as you see his facial expressions drop ever so slightly. He still avoids your gaze, looking down as he begins to speak.

“Sometimes, I’m scared you’re just a figment of my imagination. I worry if I can’t feel you and be close to you that you might just slip from my fingers.” His words are slow, as if he’s still searching for the right words to describe his thoughts.

“Take your time Raf, I’m listening.” You speak softly, wanting to encourage him to continue on. A few seconds pass before he seems to find the words to keep going.

“If I can just hold you, feel you, touch you … I know that you’re really here and you’re not just a trick of the light. You can’t leave me if I’m holding onto you for dear life after all.” He finishes, letting out a half chuckle as he finally looks up again to meet your gaze.

Taking your right hand, you move to sweep a few small tears threatening to fall from his eyes. As his words echo in your mind, you feel your heart start to become heavy realizing just how much you must mean to him for him to feel this way.

And to feel it so deeply.

“I would never leave you Rafayel. You mean far too much to me for me to ever even think about leaving you. I’ll always be by your side, I promise you that.” Your words flow effortlessly as you let your heart take over, wanting him to know that he means just as much to you as you do to him.

Rafayel stills for a moment, letting your words settle deep within his chest close to his heart. He takes in the warmth from your hands still cupping his face; hands that have seemed to grip him more firmly now with the feeling of passion rushing through your body.

Emotions are clouding his head, acting purely on instinct when he swiftly pulls you in closer and catches your lips in a devoted kiss. It feels like time has stopped just for the two of you, your lips pressed against his for what seems like decades. His hands are firmly gripping your waist, keeping your body impossibly close to his. Your hands make their way slowly to his soft purple hair, causing him to let small moans escape from his lips between kisses.

After what seemed like ages, Rafayel is the first to pull back, a string of saliva still connecting both of your lips. The sound of breathing fills the room as you both try to calm your racing heart beats. You move your hands from his hair as you return to cup his face, staring at him with hearts in your eyes, you’re sure. Rafayel matches your eye contact, gazing deeply into your eyes with nothing but complete adoration.

Though you tried to suppress it, a small yawn breaks from your lips, the tiredness from the day creeping its way back into your body.

“You should sleep now cutie, you’ve had a long day.” Rafayel speaks, breaking the silence between the two of you. You let out a small hum in response, slowly removing your hands from his face as you shift to find a comfortable position.

Warm in his embrace, you lay on your side with your head pressed so close against Rafayel’s chest that you swear you can faintly hear his heart beat in the quiet of the night. His head rests just above yours as his thumb rubs softly against your back, quickly lulling you to sleep.

Though Rafayel is quite tired himself, he stays awake just a little while longer after he hears your breathing start to shift to a steady, even pace. He takes in this moment, inhaling a slow deep breath. Having you here in his arms, feeling your chest rise and fall against his as you’re deep asleep, it makes his heart feel so warm.

You make his heart feel so, so warm.

His eyelids start to become unbearably heavy now, and he presses one final kiss to your forehead before letting himself fall asleep. Confident you’ll still be there when he wakes in the morning.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deep space rafayel #rafayel x mc

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thisapplepielife · 9 days ago

Text

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Where the Wild Things Are pop-up event.

Not In His Nature

Where the Wild Things Are Pop-Up | Word Count: 3000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Recovering From Injuries | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie, Eddie & Corroded Coffin, Steve & Dustin | Tags: Bigfoot Eddie, Steve "I've Got Latent Monsterfucker Tendencies" Harrington, Mix and Match and Made Up Lore, Hawkins is Fucking Weird, We All Know That, Canon Divergence, Set Between S3 & S4

Also on ao3.

Note: Hopper didn't end up in Russia at the end of S3. Is this important to the story? Absolutely not. But I wrote him into this and then thought, well, shit. He shouldn't even be in Hawkins. So, canon divergence it is, lol.

Eddie hurts. It feels like he's been hit by a Mack Truck. He tries to focus, open his eyes, because he thinks he's in the road, yellow lines under his face. Goddamn. He was hit by a truck. He tries to take stock of how hurt he is.

It's pretty bad, he thinks. He feels heavy. Too heavy to move.

He can't get up. Instead, he focuses on whatever's going on around him. He can hear voices, and he tries to hone in on them. He's pretty sure it's Steve Harrington fighting with Dustin Henderson, getting more shrill by the minute. Harrington shouldn't be picking on one of his new sheepies.

Eddie tries to say something, but it comes out in a warbled yowl.

Shit. Fuck.

He's changed. Turned. This isn't good. This isn't good at all.

Harrington and Henderson turn their attention towards him, Dustin shouting, "See! I told you it wasn't dead!"

"How was I supposed to know? It looked dead. It looked like a dead bear!" Harrington screams, clearly annoyed. Eddie blinks, and Steve leans down, meeting his eye.

"Have you ever seen a bear? That's not a bear!"

"Excuse me, I'm not the one that thought a fucking demogorgon was a tadpole!"

"Just keep bringing that up, why don't you? And Dart was a demodog. Not a demogorgon. Do you even know the difference?"

"Of course I know the difference! I'm the one that's fought off both to save you little shitheads. In case you've forgotten. You're welcome, by the way. I never get any credit for—"

Eddie groans again.

"—shut up, Steve! You're pissing it off!"

Eddie isn't pissed off, but they aren't making sense. He's definitely brain damaged from getting hit by that stupid BMW. He groans, opens an eye, and finds Steve looking back at him.

"It's a monster. Look at it! This is not a goddamn bear," Steve snaps, and they're holding eye contact. Steve's looking right at him.

"I never said it was a bear — you did!"

"It's looking at me like it understands what I'm saying. Hello? Do you know what I'm saying?!" Steve asks, voice getting louder.

"It doesn't know what you're saying, Steve," Henderson snarks, "It's a wild animal, not a monster from the Upside Down. Do you see a face full of teeth? I don't see that, do you, Steve? But whatever it is, you should get away from it. It looks like it might try to kill you, and I've seen you fight."

"Should we shoot it? Call Nancy? Have her shoot it? Put it out of its misery?" Steve questions, and he has a nail-studded bat in his hand. Eddie doesn't want to get shot or beaten to death by Steve Harrington wielding a baseball bat. He tries to get up, tries to run away. But he can't move.

Steve reaches out and touches his face, and Eddie leans into it.

Then, the spell is broken. Eddie hears the car before he sees it, tires squealing as it stops, not far from him, doors creaking open, and then slamming shut.

Steve stands, leaving him.

"Hey! Asshole! Back off!"

Gareth. Jesus H. Christ, thank you.

Eddie sees his furious hand reach out, all temper, and no concern that Steve Harrington is bigger and older, as he wacks the bat out of Steve's hand, sending it clattering to the asphalt.

"Leave it alone!"

"What the hell, Gareth?" Henderson asks. "What is that thing?"

"A bear," Goodie answers, close to Eddie's face. He's trying to lift him off the pavement with Jeff's assistance, but they aren't making much progress. Eddie tries to sit up, but he's not much help.

"Our pet bear," Jeff says.

Gareth says, "We're raising it to sell to a circus…"

Just as Goodie says, "...it's our 4-H project."

Both of them seem hellbent on digging this hole deeper and deeper, one stupid lie at a time. Eddie groans. Selling him to a circus? 4-H? Bear? Why don't they just tell them it's him, if they're gonna be so goddamn obvious.

"That's not a bear," Harrington argues, "it's a…Bigfoot. It's a Bigfoot! Right?!" he shouts, sounding more confident the further he gets into his thought.

"It's not a Bigfoot," Jeff answers. Calm. Cool. Collected. The only one that isn't acting crazy and making the situation worse.

"Whatever it is, it fucked up my car!" Steve Harrington yells, waving towards the front end, which is definitely dented in. Eddie can't feel too bad about it, it was him that got hit by these two nitwits.

"Well, fucking help us and we'll get out of your hair!" Gareth snaps.

Between the five of them, they get him loaded into the back of the El Camino, and Eddie feels it groan and sink lower under his weight.

Jeff climbs in the back, Gareth and Goodie getting back up front, pulling away.

Gareth steps on it, and Jeff thumps the glass, "Slow down!"

He does, and they ease along the highway, the wind ruffling his fur.

"How hurt are you?" Jeff asks, hand on his shoulder.

Hurt, but not dying he doesn't think. He has no way to answer, but he grunts and shifts, laying his head in Jeff's lap. He strokes Eddie's forehead, "It's okay. You're alright. You just can't run off like that."

Eddie knows. He does.

It takes a while, but they make it out to Reefer Rick's, and they pull right up to the boathouse. Eddie supposes this is a good enough place to hideout until he shifts back, hopefully by morning.

When Eddie wakes up, he's sore, and naked on the filthy floor of the boathouse. But he's himself again.

"You alive?" Gareth asks, and Eddie nods. At least he thinks he is.

"Sore," Eddie croaks, throat dry.

Jeff hands over a canteen of water, and Eddie drains it.

"Can you get up?" Jeff asks, and Eddie isn't sure.

He steadies his hand on Goodie's shoulder, and steps into his boxers, then his jeans. He can't lift his arms high enough to put on a t-shirt, so Gareth sheds his outer plaid shirt, and Eddie is buttoned into it.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Jeff asks.

Bits and pieces, maybe. He shakes his head.

"You escaped like an asshole. Got hit by a car," Goodie snarks.

Henderson. Steve Harrington. He remembers.

"Steve Harrington hit me with his car," Eddie says, and Jeff's nodding.

"Do you think you have internal bleeding? We can take you to the hospital now that you're not all hairy. We couldn't last night, unless you wanted to go to the vet. And I don't think Doc Walden would know what to do with Sasquatch," Gareth rambles, and Eddie shakes his head. "Neuter you, maybe."

He laughs. He's okay. He thinks.

The drama room is being used for the school play, and that means Hellfire needs to be moved. Ending up on Cornwallis street, at Dustin Henderson's house wasn't what Eddie had planned for the night.

And he really didn't expect Steve Harrington to answer the door, and look him up and down, suspiciously.

"What the hell happened to you, Munson?" Steve asks, arms pulled tight across his chest.

"Fight," Eddie lies.

"You can barely walk," Steve argues, watching him struggle to step into the house, "that's a helluva a fight. And I've been beaten the fuck up."

Eddie doesn't know what to say: You hit me with your car, asshole?

He's sure that'd go over well.

So, he just shrugs and settles into the seat at the head of the Henderson's dining room table. His head is throbbing, they should have postponed this. But that's not in his nature. The show must go on.

He tries to get comfortable, shifting in the wooden chair, and tries to be entertaining. Tries to keep them invested in his new campaign, The Cult of Vecna, as it's just getting underway. He worked hard on this one, but he can't concentrate tonight.

Especially not with Steve Harrington hovering in the doorway, looking judgmental. Or concerned. Constipated? Something unpleasant, that's for sure.

The nausea hits him, hard and fast, and he pushes back from the table, no time to even make excuses.

Getting down on the floor to throw up hurts like fucking hell, and he's not exactly sure how he'll get back up again. Eventually one of them will come looking for him, he supposes.

He's pretty positive he'd dozed off, draped over the toilet, head resting on his arm on the seat, when the bathroom door opens and closes. Maybe they should have taken him to the hospital.

He expects it to be Gareth. Jeff. Goodie. Hell, even Henderson.

But it's Steve Harrington.

He squats down, and pushes Eddie's hair out of his face, "I hit you with my car, didn't I?"

Eddie nods. He's too sick to argue.

"Shit. Shit, sorry. I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean to, I was the one in the road," Eddie says, closing his eyes. If he'd just stayed put in Gareth's basement like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened. "You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?"

"No," Steve says, "I hit a deer."

Eddie reaches out and squeezes Steve's arm in thanks.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Eddie answers, "I'm always sick, after. I'm just sore on top of it tonight."

"Have you always been…this way?" Steve asks.

"Have I always been a freak?" Eddie asks, but smiles slightly, "Yeah. Just not this kind of freak. I think I got cursed."

Eddie expects Steve to argue, to not believe him, but he's nodding.

"It started happening last summer. After the Fourth of July. We played with a Ouija board, just messing around. And the mall burned down, and I ended up like this. It's not funny now."

"This town is so fucked," Steve says, and Eddie can't argue. "You didn't burn down the mall. Trust me. In fact, I'd bet that what happened out there that night somehow caused this, in some way."

That makes no sense.

"Why do I think you know more than you're letting on?" Eddie asks.

"I don't know anything. Not about your thing. But this town? It's got problems. Deep, dark problems. Trust me."

Eddie has a thousand questions he wants to ask, but Steve doesn't seem willing to give them right now.

He confirms that when he changes the subject, stating, "Take as long as you need, and then I'll get you out of here."

It takes twenty more minutes of sitting there, Steve Harrington just hanging out next to him, before he can be pulled to his feet.

Passing through the dining room, Steve stops, just briefly.

"I'm taking Eddie home, he has the flu," Steve announces, like that's a normal thing for him to say or do. Everybody sitting at the table is just staring, unblinking.

Steve doesn't take him home, at least not to Eddie's home, but to Steve's own. Steve had insisted a warm bath with Epsom salt would make him less sore. Eddie doesn't exactly think it'll help, but he's willing to try anything.

"Why are you doing this?" Eddie asks, leaning back against the tub, head resting against the tile.

"I hit you with my car," Steve says, then looks Eddie's way, "and because when I was hurt like this, I wish someone would have taken care of me, would have made sure I was okay. I wasn't okay," he admits, low and almost too soft to hear.

"Thanks, Harrington," Eddie says, and maybe he's been wrong about King Steve. Maybe he's a good dude with a bad rep. Eddie knows a little bit about that himself.

"And I kind of feel responsible. The mall thing? I was there for that."

Eddie nods, not fully understanding, but getting it all the same.

The next month, his friends are dragging him up to the front of Harrington's house, like he's some unruly pet dog that's about to pee on the carpet. He can't help that he's gonna turn, if he had a choice, he wouldn't do it.

"Can we put him in one of your seventeen garages? Before he changes?" Gareth asks.

Steve rolls his eyes, but opens the double doors, as if they're getting the grand welcome.

They lock themselves in, barricade the exits, the windows, and Eddie sits on the ground to wait.

It's happened, but he never remembers changing. Which is probably good, surely it's not pretty.

Tonight, Steve Harrington is peering down at him as he sits on the ground. Eddie looks up at him and smiles wide.

Steve laughs, and reaches out and pats Eddie on the head.

"What now?" Steve asks the room, as Eddie's friends just sit there.

"We wait? He's gonna be like this for about twenty-four hours," Jeff answers.

Eddie nudges his big fist into Steve's thigh, getting him to turn and look at him again. He does, and Eddie gives him another toothy grin.

"Stop flirting with Steve Harrington," Goodie says, and Eddie turns and gives him a dirty look, "I don't think your ugly ass is his type."

Steve laughs, and touches Eddie on the forehead, "Don't listen to him," Steve says, leaning close, "you're very cute."

Eddie makes a happy noise, and settles back against the wall. He doesn't even feel the urge to run away tonight. Not with Steve right here.

Another month gone, and the group of people who know about him has grown. Eddie just hopes letting them in on his secret will help him fix it for good. It took them all month to scheme up a plan, but now here they are, standing out behind the church at the witching hour, Nancy Wheeler holding a flashlight.

Changing doesn't happen during a full moon, he's not a werewolf. No, he turns every month on the same day they'd messed around with that damn thing in the first place.

"Okay. Now. Seven pieces," Nancy instructs and Eddie cuts the board while Steve holds it. How can something made by Hasbro actually hold any powers? It makes no sense.

Once they have their pieces, Robin holds out a vial of holy water. This all seems like a little much, but he does it, and then digs a deep hole in the consecrated ground, burying the pieces.

He hopes this works.

"Is this gonna work?" Wayne asks, as if he's reading Eddie's mind. When the trailer hadn't been enough to hold him, Gareth's basement had become the place. Which was hard, Mama Jones is cool, but Eddie wasn't sure she was Bigfoot in the basement cool.

He's not dangerous, he's never tried to hurt anybody, at least. But he's fucking mischievous, and the last time he went out roaming he got hit by Steve's car. He prefers not to repeat that process if he can help it.

So, they need to cage him tonight. To see if it worked.

The bad news: Steve's parents are home. So, this time he's willingly stepping into a solitary confinement cell at the jail, Jim Hopper holding the keys. Hopper said the less people that knew about him, the better, and Eddie knows that's true. He can't go around getting hit by cars. The next one might not be Harrington and Henderson, who incidentally, already had some deep experience with weird shit.

"I'll stay with him," Steve says, following Eddie through the door.

"Harrington," Hopper says, a warning.

"Eddie won't hurt him," Jeff says.

"Definitely not," Wayne agrees, "he's not violent. It's not in his nature."

"He didn't hurt me last time," Steve reassures.

Hopper shakes his head, but hands Steve a deck of cards, "If you get bored. If he tries to eat you, holler."

"Gee, thanks," Steve says, but takes the cards and sits on the plastic mattress on the ground in the corner.

When the door clangs shut, there are no bars, only a bean hole in the door for passing trays of food.

"How long until we know?" Steve asks.

"By morning," Eddie answers, "that first time, Wayne nearly took my head off with his shotgun. But he said he could tell it was me, by my eyes.

"I get that," Steve says, and Eddie feels the blush crawling up his neck, making him feel warm.

Steve looks at his watch, "The sun has to be up. It worked," he tells Eddie.

Eddie thinks it did, too.

Steve frowns.

"Well, don't look so sad about it," Eddie laughs, and Steve smiles over at him.

"I was just thinking, you were awfully cute and flirty. As a Bigfoot."

Eddie laughs, the sound echoing off the bare walls, "If you want me to flirt with you, Harrington, all you gotta do is ask."

Steve scoots closer, hoisting himself up onto his knees, hovering over Eddie. It feels familiar, but different, and Eddie grins up at him. Steve pats his head, just like he did when Eddie was much larger, and much hairier.

Then he leans down, and kisses Eddie.

Holy shit.

Eddie won the goddamn lottery. He'd get hit by Steve Harrington's car any day of the week if this is the end result.

They kiss, and kiss, until they hear the heavy key turning the lock.

Hopper swings the door open, looks at Steve, then Eddie, shaking his head, turning on heel, stomping away. Eddie can see what Steve looks like with his swollen, red lips and assumes he looks the same.

"Should we be scared?" Eddie asks, looking at the open door, then back at Steve.

"Of Hop? Nope. No way," he says, climbing to his feet, and then leaning down to pull Eddie up, too. "All bark, no bite, just like you."

Eddie looks at him, and then presses their lips together one more time, before grinning, up close and in Steve's face.

"Sorry I'm no longer a monster. You seemed into that," Eddie teases.

Steve laughs, head thrown back, "I imagine I'll survive. Somehow."

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the Where the Wild Things Are prompt!

Notes: I was editing my other fic for this challenge, and got to where I'd made a Harry and the Hendersons reference and thought, ha, Dustin is a Henderson...what if? Of course, it didn't fully go in that direction once I started writing. But that was the the reason this got written, for sure.

If you haven't seen it, the Bigfoot in the header is indeed Harry from that film. It was my childhood. Made you laugh, made you cry, and it's a relic from back when kids still cussed in PG films, haha. They all walked so Dustin Henderson could (goddamn) run.

Thanks for reading this silliness. 🤣

#corrodedcoffinfest: where the wild things are #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #stranger things #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #dustin henderson #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic #steddie ficlet #bigfoot eddie munson #cryptid #monsterfucker steve harrington

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trumpkinhotboy · 10 months ago

Text

I'll keep an eye on you - III

pairing: jacob black x reader

genre: as always for this series, a mix of fluff and angst

warnings: curse words here and there?

word count: about 3000

a/n: It's finally here babes !!!!! this beautiful little series i love so so much🥺Thank you so much for your patience and all the lovin you have been giving to this little series of mine, it means the world to me<3

part I part II

A month had passed.

Slowly, you were healing from the horrible ordeal you had been through. Jake still came to sleep at your house almost every night. You kept up that routine for a few weeks, but after a while, you asked to try it alone. Even if he reluctantly agreed, he knew you needed to do this. So he promised to stay close the first night, ready to come in if you needed him. As it turns out, you were okay, and as days went by, you no longer needed him to keep watch hidden in the trees beside your house. Slowly, you were able to sleep all alone in your bed. You were incredibly proud of it, even if you missed having Jacob's warm body lying next to you at night.

You never spoke again of that night you confessed how everything gnawed at you. You thought about it often but never found the right time to discuss it. Since he hadn't mentioned it, you allowed it to go without answers for longer. You knew you'd end up getting to the bottom of it anyway.

The crisp autumn air ruffled your hair as you headed to the Reservation in your rusty truck, window pulled down, and music blasting, at least as much as your poor speakers could muster. You were incredibly excited to see everyone, and the prospect of hearing legends about the Quileutes made you tremble with excitement. You couldn't help but feel honored to be invited to these tribe gatherings. There weren't many outsiders allowed to hear the old tales.

You hadn't even parked your car when you saw Jacob's humongous form jogging for you. As always, a bright smile illuminated his tan face. And as always, you felt your knees wobble when you realized you were the recipient of such a beautiful thing. "Y/n! Over here!" He signaled for you to bring your truck closer to the backyard. Groaning, your truck obliged, and as soon as you shifted in park, your friend opened the door with a hand lifted for you to climb down. "Milady," he joked as his big hand engulfed yours.

Without letting go, he guided you to the rest of the tribe already gathered behind his little house. Some of the boys were working on making a big fire, and you were delighted to smell some delicious burgers being cooked over on the BBQ. Emily was busy ordering Sam and Paul around as she laid out plate after plate of delicious-looking food on a nearby table. You couldn't help a smile when you saw her swat Paul on the shoulder for not checking the patties often enough, and made a mental note to go and say hi to your friend as Jake pulled you in the opposite direction.

You reached the sitting area where Jacob's father and a few others were gathered, idly talking. You couldn't ignore the funny looks Quil and Jared kept giving you as you approached the little group. They whispered to each other, giggling like little gossips before Jake gave them the darkest look you'd ever seen to shut them up. You ignored their odd behaviour but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

Before you could ask anyone about it, Paul announced the food was ready, and slowly the small crowd went over to fill their plates. After filling up yours with more food than you could ever ingest, Jake guided you to his friends with one hand on the small of your back. Its iridescent presence you could never ignore made shivers run down your spine. Small touches like this one were becoming more and more familiar between the two of you. Even so, you didn’t think you would ever get used to the delicious warmth it always spread in your body.

You all sat around the fire, eating merrily the food Emily prepared and as you joked with everyone, you were once again surprised by how comfortable you felt around them all. How natural it felt for you to be with them. To sit by Jake's side, his thigh pressed against yours as if any space between your bodies was intolerable.

You were caught in a conversation with Seth, the sound of laughter and excited conversation filling your ears. Jake’s presence by your side made you feel so content and safe. Until one minute you were laughing with Seth, and the next you felt Jacob getting up. "Everything okay?" you asked. You didn't hear what was said but were aware that he was talking with Quil and that their tone had gotten heated before abruptly stopping.

"Yeah, just gonna get something to drink." he curtly answered.

You gave him a quick smile, knowing by the expression on his face he was not okay. Which was later confirmed by the way he sat next to you but kept a very noticeable distance. You didn't comment on it, not wanting to make a scene, but when you focused on your plate again hunger had completely left you.

"Hey, don't mind him, Y/n. Quil's an idiot," whispered Seth.

You looked at him with question marks in your eyes. "Oh, sorry, I thought you heard what he said. Uhm, he just said something about how you and Jake acted like a couple."

You turned your head in Jake's direction, but despite your pointed stare, his eyes would not drift in your direction. You analyzed the distance between the two of you, feeling a sharp pain in your heart. That would explain Quil and Jared’s odd behaviour earlier and the death stare Jacob had given them. You had thought it was simply because he didn’t want them to tease you. Now, you had the sinking feeling his reaction was due to another reason completely.

The night merrily carried on until late, the elders had gone home and it was only the pack and you left around the fire. The joyous heat had simmered to hot embers, encouraging you to scoot closer, chasing the warmth.

Jake kept looking over at you, an ounce of worry in his dark eyes. He was still far away, not making eye contact or talking with you. Your frustration at his distant behaviour had only grown during the night but when he suddenly signaled for you to follow him and walked towards his car you followed without hesitation. You looked at him open the door, fetching something on his seat, and back out. He walked closer and handed you his coat.

"I saw you shivering. Thought you could use this." His tone was low and even here, alone and away from the group he avoided your eyes. You stared at the piece of clothing in your hands, more confused than you'd ever been. A petty part of you, angry at him for acting so distant wanted to refuse and walk away. But the part of you that was freezing its ass off couldn't refuse the perspective of more warmth.

You wrapped it around your shoulders as you looked at him. "So this is what this is about. You only wanted to give me this?" His failure to answer only made you sigh deeper with annoyance. "I'm so confused, Jake." You didn't have to add anything, from the way he looked at you and the sigh he let out, you knew he knew. "You've been acting so weird but keep behaving like nothing's going on. Tonight, I mean, what is that? I come here, you look happy to see me. Then suddenly Quil says some dumb shit and you get as far away from me as possible. What's up with that? Are you ashamed? Is that what this is?"

He sharply looked up from the ground. An animal light fired up his eyes. "I would and will never feel ashamed of being with you. Never."

"Then what's going on? Tell me. Ever since that night, you've been acting differently."

You had reached a new level of intimacy in your friendship that night a month ago. You both shared private information, deciding to trust and rely on each other. But that night, there were also a lot of secrets still kept.

"Y/n I- I can't."

"Can't what? Jake, tell me. I can weather it. Whatever it is."

His body shook under the intensity. He seemed to be fighting his whole self to get the words out. Then it clicked. You remembered a year ago when you'd seen him in such a state. When he started his transformation, Sam had forbidden him from telling you. You only discovered his secret when you infiltrated his house and found him half wolf, half human in the most terrifying process you had ever seen. Your blood started boiling in your veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This, again?" You turned to look at the people gathered around the fire a few meters away. Your gaze zoomed in on its target. Sam, laughing with Emily sitting at his side. "I'm done with this."

You stormed over to the bonfire and planted yourself in front of the leader. Sam looked up at you with a laid-back smile which quickly disappeared when he noticed you were fuming with rage.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" he carefully asked, then he looked back at Jacob running up behind you. A shadow passed in his gaze.

"You know what's wrong. You're doing it again. This is the thing I hate the most about your powers, Sam. Taking away someone's right to talk is wrong. Especially when it puts him in pain." You pointed to Jake, not taking your eyes away from Sam. You heard Jacob mumbling for you to calm down and let it go, but ignored him. "This needs to end."

"Y/n..." he started. You noticed the complete silence surrounding you and the tense look he kept giving Jacob.

Sam was an honest guy. He was a great leader who always took responsibility and ownership of his actions. The fact that he wasn't saying anything wasn't like him at all. He had never tried to deny the orders he gave in the past. Realization shook your core as you felt a deep sadness pierce your stomach. "You're not the one who asked Jake not to tell me anything." You turned to look at your friend, the truth written on his face. "You asked him."

His failure to answer was the only confirmation you needed. A storm of thoughts and emotions took control of your senses. Dread, dismay and then burning rage took hold of your brain. "Why." The simple word sounded harsh and rough coming from your mouth.

"Y/n, please let it go," he begged in a whisper.

"This is so dramatic for nothing. I don't get what's the big deal and why he would ever ask that," you heard someone mumble. Everyone turned to look at Quil, who froze under the sudden weight of the attention. "What? It's the truth. There's no reason he should ever want to hide that Y/n's..."

Faster than your human senses could comprehend Jacob had pounced on his friend. Throwing him off the seat he was in, he trapped him on the ground. Even if Quil was also a werewolf, there was no way he could ever fight Jacob off right now.

"You shut the fuck up. This has nothing to do with you." Jacob's voice sounded poisonous. Immediately, the other members got to their feet, ready to pull them apart. Jacob seemed like he was taller and meaner. Long gone was the sunshiney smile you loved so much. At that moment, he was more wolf than human. "This is my business. She is my business and no one else."

Everybody looked at the ground, no one would cross eyes with you. The sound of his voice when he uttered these words, the way his body seemed to be angled to protect you even if he was a few feet away. You had seen this behavior before and had observed it a thousand times in Sam's behavior toward Emily or in Paul's toward Rachel. Another realization hit you like the impact of a collision between two asteroids.

Your eyes were fixed on Jacob’s back, still turned to you. Even then, you could feel it. You always knew. Some part of you always knew. That bond between the two of you was stronger than just love or friendship. It was destined, you were two parts of the same soul.

You staggered, feeling light-headed, when a gentle touch at your elbow stabilized you. Emily stood beside you, helping you stay collected and brushing your back with comforting strokes.

"Breathe Y/n." You barely heard her but listened to her words. Fresh air filled your lungs and steadied you. You looked back at Jacob who had immediately released Quil when he saw your reaction. Worry was written on his face. You hoped he could read the fury written on yours.

You walked up to him and stopped when you were barely inches away. For the first time that night, Jacob looked thrown off. You searched his eyes before you started screaming. "YOU IDIOT?? WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT ME TO KNOW I'M YOUR IMPRINT? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TRY AND FORBID ME TO KNOW THAT." You stepped back, and turned on yourself, grabbing at your hair like a mad woman. "I can't BELIEVE you hid that from me. I can't believe you tried to do that. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH ME? Is this what it is? You don't want to be with me? The thought of being with me was so abhorrent that you asked your leader to FORBID you from telling me?"

Your eyes filled to the brim with angry tears as you confronted him. He chuckled, a dry thing, devoid of any real amusement. "How can you even say that? Now I am an asshole for wanting you to have a choice? For wanting you not to feel obliged to be with me because of some ancient wolf thing? For wanting you to have a choice to escape this life you would have with me?" His eyes were feverish, a particular kind of pain shining in them.

"What- what do you even mean?"

"After what happened to you, I didn't want you to feel tied to me, the reason you were almost killed. That's something I can never change Y/n. Danger and threat will follow me wherever I go." His shoulders slumped miserably. "It's not fair of me to profit from the imprinting process to have you with me. To have you be with someone like me."

There was no sound except for the singing crickets in the night and the sound of the fire softly dying out.

"Jake..." His words extinguished any fire in your chest. You understood better than anyone else the feeling of wanting to protect someone you cared about. You delicately took his face in your hands, "Jacob Black. I want you to understand this and get it through your thick skull. That was not your fault. None of this is. No matter what happened, I... I wouldn't change it. The night of the incident, I remember how happy I was walking to you and the rest of the pack." At that, you looked with love and respect at all the members still surrounding you.

"You can't say that," he whispered painfully, tears in his chocolate eyes. You exhaled and forced his chin up so he'd look at you. "I mean it. I knew you were at Emily's and I know I would still make the same choice of walking over there to be with you. There are no other possible options for me when it comes to you. I need to be where you are."

The atmosphere changed and the other members took it as their exit signal and left you two under the stars. A soft light illuminated his eyes as he looked at you. "How could you ever think I wouldn't want to be with you?" You felt his hands warm your cold cheeks. "Are you really that blind? It's always been you, Y/n. You've changed the trajectory of my life from the moment I laid eyes on you. Even before the wolf stuff, I always knew you were the one for me. I love you Y/n."

A warm fuzzy feeling spread from your head to your toes as you listened to the soft timber of his voice in the cold night. Nothing else mattered at that moment, it was only you and him and the confession he just shared with you.

"So you asked Sam to forbid you from telling me so I could have a choice?"

He nodded, "I didn't trust myself to keep the secret, I can't keep anything from you. If you want to be with me, I want it to be because you... love me, not because you feel you have to respect some ancient wolf thing ritual." You heard his hesitation to utter the word love. Even after all the time you had spent together, doubt and fear still had their claws embedded in his brain.

"You say I must be blind not to have seen your feelings for me, but I'd say you aren't better. Ever since we were kids, it has always been you. The boy who made mud pies with me. My best friend. The person who supported me through everything. The man. The werewolf. You, in all your forms, Jacob. I am yours, and I think I have always been."

He let out a shaky breath, his dark eyes transfixed on your face, his hands limp at his side. He nervously licked his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded imperceptibly, the rhythm of your own heart accelerating as he bent down. You felt his soft breath fan over your lips and waited patiently until his plush lips met yours. This new contact solidified something inside of your chest, the bond connecting the two of you seemed to tighten, a clear presence you couldn’t ignore anymore. You melted completely into his embrace when his strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you up as your knees wobbled under the intensity of the moment.

You were home. You had found him. Your forever.

Your Jacob.

taglist: @tgarrett26 @twilightlover2007 @butterclove

#ilya writes #jacob black #twilight #jacob black fic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #twilight au #twilight renaissance #jacob black fluff #jacob black angst #fluff #fluffy #werewolves #shapeshifters #twilight wolfpack

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aynavaano · 9 months ago

Text

All I want is you

Hunter × f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: Hunter is used to sharing everything with his brothers and he is determined if this is what he has to do to get you he will do it. But deep down he can’t deny that he wants you all to himself.

Notes: Welp, I have no idea how my writers block ended in a sunday afternoon session with 3000 words but here we are. This fic is directly inspired by @stellarbit “Unexpected Scenes” (linked at the bottom) It was incredibly hot but all I could think about was poor Hunter just wanting to fuck. So here are 3k words of shameless and completely self indulgent Hunter smut. There is masturbation, stripping, oral/m recieving, unprotected sex/f on top and a hint of exhibitionism kink if you squint. Also, men that moan are hot and I will die on that hill. All my Hunter girlies, come get your man.

Hunter had always been used to sharing everything with his brothers-their victories, their losses, their rations, their ship and even sometimes their women. It was part of being a squad, part of their bond. He loved them, and he didn't mind the constant closeness, the way they worked as a unit. But then you walked into Cid's parlor one evening, and everything changed.

Somehow, you never left and quickly became an unexpected but perfect fit for their ragtag group. They needed the extra help, and you needed work-it was a simple arrangement at first.

What Hunter didn't expect was the effect you'd have on him. It started with the small things, like your soft smiles that seemed to light up the room, or the way you casually touched his arm when you talked, sending a jolt of warmth through him.

He wasn't used to someone outside of his brothers being so tactile, so... comfortable with him. But it was more than that. The way you fit into the squad so effortlessly, laughing at Wrecker's jokes, discussing tactics with Tech, or quietly listening to Echo's stories-it all drew him in.

And then there was your scent. That sweet, intoxicating smell that seemed to linger in the air whenever you were around. It was especially noticeable in close quarters on the Marauder, and Hunter, with his heightened senses, couldn't ignore it.

He tried to tell himself it was nothing, just a byproduct of the close quarters and the stress of the missions. But deep down, he knew better. The smell of your arousal when you were around them was unmistakable, and it drove him wild. He wanted you so badly, in ways he had never wanted anyone before. But he wasn't the only one. He noticed how Tech looked at you when he explained something in his usual precise manner, the way you and Wrecker leaned a little closer when he made you laugh, or the way your eyes lingered on Crosshair's sharp features and his on you when you were cleaning your gun. Hunter wasn't blind. He could see the way you interacted with each of them, and it killed him to think that he wasn't the only one you were drawn to.

He knew, deep down, that if he ever had a chance with you, he would have to share you with his brothers. It never mattered with any woman before but now it was a bitter pill to swallow. But the idea of having you all to himself, of not having to divide your attention, was a fantasy he allowed himself in the quiet moments. Moments like this.

The Marauder had docked a while ago, and the others including you had all gone inside Cid's parlor, eager for a brief respite and maybe a strong drink. But Hunter had stayed behind, needing some time alone, drowning himself in your scent that still filled the air. He had made himself comfortable in the pilot's seat, his thoughts wandering to you as they often did the last days. He imagined what it would be like to have you here with him, just the two of you. No brothers, no missions-just you.

His hand moved to the waistband of his pants almost unconsciously, the need to relieve the tension that had been building for weeks overwhelming him. As he stroked himself, he pictured your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you talked to him, the way you smelled when you were near. He imagined how it would feel to have you straddle him in this very chair, your bodies pressed together as you moved against him, your scent filling his senses, drowning him in desire.

He bit back a groan, his pace quickening as he imagined your soft moans in his ear, your hands running through his hair, your lips pressing against his neck. He wanted you so badly, more than he had ever wanted anything. But he also knew that it wasn't just desire. It was more than that. He cared about you deeply. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy. And if that meant sharing you with his brothers, then so be it. But in moments like this, when it was just him and his thoughts, he allowed himself to dream of a different reality, one where you were his and his alone.

His breath hitched as he felt himself getting closer, the image of you in his mind so vivid it almost felt real. He imagined your body arching beneath him, your lips parted in pleasure as you whispered his name. It was too much.

He felt the telltale signs of his climax approaching, his breathing growing ragged, his strokes becoming desperate. But just as he was about to reach that sweet point of no return, something pulled him out of his heated fantasies and yanked him back to reality-footsteps.

They were light, too light to be any of his brothers. Panic surged through him. It had to be you.

His heart pounded in his chest as he hastily tucked his cock back into his pants, his hands fumbling in a rush. He tried to remain silent, hoping that maybe you had just forgotten something on the ship and would leave without noticing him. But the footsteps grew closer, echoing up the ramp of the Marauder, and all hope of remaining hidden evaporated when he heard you call his name.

"Hunter?"

Your voice was soft, questioning, but with an edge of concern that made his gut twist.

He stayed silent for a moment, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse, an explanation-anything that would cover up what he had been doing. But when you called for him again, a bit more insistently this time, he knew he couldn't avoid you any longer.

"I'm here," he finally answered, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears.

Before he could even try to compose himself, you appeared in the cockpit, your eyes scanning the small space until they landed on him. He could see your gaze travel over him, taking in his disheveled appearance-the flushed look on his face, his hair slightly tousled, the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his codpiece hung loose on one side, and the unmistakable bulge still straining against his pants.

Your eyes widened but he saw you bite your lip for a split second, your control slipping ever so slightly. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension in the air thick and palpable.

"I - I'm sorry" you stuttered, your cheeks flushing as you averted your gaze, clearly flustered.

"I just... I wanted to check on you. You seemed distracted the last few days, and I was worried, but-"

You gestured vaguely, looking back at him with an awkward smile.

"I'll leave. I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

Hunter noticed the way your eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants again before you quickly looked away. His mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions - embarrassment, confusion, but also an undeniable surge of desire. You turned to leave, clearly intent on giving him space, but something in him couldn't let you go.

"Wait," he blurted out, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned back, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Stay?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could fully process them.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. Hunter watched as your eyes met his, searching for something in his gaze. He could see the hesitation in your expression, but also something else - a flicker of interest, maybe even a hint of desire. Your lips parted as if you were about to say something, but no words came out.

Hunter stood up, the weight of what was happening between you hanging in the air, his heart raced. The reality of the situation settled over him, making the air feel thick with anticipation. He knew this was a dangerous line he was about to cross, one that could change everything between you. But the thought of turning back now, of denying the connection that had been simmering between you for so long, felt impossible.

"Come here," he said softly, motioning for you to step closer.

You hesitated for only a second before you obeyed, your movements cautious but deliberate. As you approached, Hunter couldn't help but notice the way your breathing had quickened, your chest rising and falling a bit more rapidly, mirroring his own rising anticipation.

When you were close enough, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm.

The contact sent a jolt through both of you, and Hunter could feel the tremor in your muscles, the same tension he felt coursing through his own body.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering to his lips, then down to the still evident bulge in his pants and back up to meet his eyes. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, but also a desire that matched your own.

You took a deep breath, as if steeling yourself for what was to come, and then you leaned in. The kiss you pressed to his lips was tentative at first, testing the waters, but when Hunter responded, pulling you closer, it deepened, turning into something more heated, more desperate. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the longing that had been building between you for so long.

Hunter's hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss. He could taste the sweetness of your lips, feel the warmth of your body pressed against his. And for a moment, all the doubts and fears melted away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of the moment.

But when the kiss finally broke, leaving you both breathless, Hunter couldn’t think clear anymore, he wasn't sure where this would lead, or how things would change between you and the squad, but right now, he didn't care. All he knew was that he wanted you here, now, and for as long as you would have him.

You leaned in, capturing his lips again in a heated kiss, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned into the kiss, his hands finding your waist, holding you tight against him.

"I want you," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and husky, full of desire.

"But I know... I’ll have to share you with my brothers."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes with a soft smile.

"You're a sweet, silly man Hunter," you whispered, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

Before he could respond, you pushed him back into the pilot's chair, straddling him with a confident ease that made his heart race.

You ground down on him, your hips rolling against his and your core pressing against his bulge. You felt your panties were already soaking wet.

Your breath was hot against his ear as you leaned in to whisper,

"All I want is you." as you ground down again.

The moan that escaped him was deep and sinful, the sound of it making your core tighten with anticipation. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the thickness of his cock pressing against your core through the fabric of his pants. You wanted more - needed more.

You let yourself slide down between his knees and looked up at him through your lashes, your hands moving up his thighs and over his bulge. Hunter's breath hitched as you freed him from his confines, his cock springing out, thick and beautiful. The soft caramel tone of his skin glowing in the last rays of light that came in through the viewport.

You licked your lips at the sight, your mouth watering in anticipation.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," you murmured, wrapping your hand around his length, giving him a few slow, deliberate pumps that made him groan.

"I've wanted to taste you for so long."

"Stars, cyar'ika," Hunter breathed, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as he watched you.

You leaned in, your tongue flicking out to lick the tip, tasting the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there and oh did he taste heavenly. His whole body shuddered at the sensation, his head falling back against the seat. You took him into your mouth, inch by inch, savoring the way he filled you, the taste of him driving you wild.

Hunter's moans grew louder, his breathing more ragged as you worked him with your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head, your hand pumping the base in time with your movements. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his thighs trembling as he got closer and closer to the edge and the lewd moans falling from his lips were the sweetest sound.

But just as he was about to tip over, you pulled back, releasing him with a soft pop.

Hunter's eyes snapped open, and he looked down at you with a mixture of frustration and desperate need, beeing so close to his orgasm for the second time.

He let out a low whine at the loss of your warm mouth.

"Don’t worry, I'm not done with you yet," you said with a teasing smile.

You stood up, taking a few steps back to give him a full view of you.

Slowly, deliberately, you began to undress yourself, peeling off each piece of clothing and letting it fall to the floor. Hunter's eyes were glued to you, his gaze dark with desire, his cock twitching at the sight of your bare skin and he was barely holding on, barely keeping himself from coming then and there.

When you were completely naked, you took a moment to let him drink you in, your body exposed and vulnerable but feeling powerful under his intense gaze. Hunter looked like he was about to lose control, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the armrests.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of awe but laced with a need that was almost desperate.

"So soft... I want to feel every inch of you."

He had lost count of how often he imagined you like this, your glowing skin, the soft swell of your breasts, the curves of your hips he wanted to grip so hard he would leave bruises, but nothing came close to the reality and he was sure he was loosing his mind.

You moved back to him, straddling his lap once more. His hands were on you immediately, caressing your thighs, your hips, your waist, as you positioned yourself above him.

And with a long, drawn-out moan, you slowly sank down onto him, feeling the stretch as he filled you completely.

Hunter's head fell back with a groan when he was sheathed fully inside you, the warmth and tightness of your body overwhelming his senses. You stayed like this for a moment, just feeling each other, the connection between you so deep and intense it was almost too much.

"Feels so good" you murmured, your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you began to move.

You started riding him, your hips rolling and grinding in a rhythm that had him seeing stars. His hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Hunter's gaze was fixed on you, watching the way your breasts bounced with each movement, the way your face twisted in pleasure.

His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your mind go blank and drowned out everything but him.

You threw your head back, a moan ripping from your throat as the pleasure built and built until you couldn't hold it back anymore.

"Hunter, if you keep doing that I’m going to come», you panted, your movements becoming more erratic as the coil inside you tightened.

"Come for me, cyar'ika,"

Hunter urged, his voice strained, his own control slipping as he felt you tightening around him.

"Let me feel you come around me, come on my cock."

That was all it took. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back and your body spasming around him as the orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of intense pleasure that left you trembling in his arms. Hunter was right there with you, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you through it as he buried himself deeper inside you.

You were still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm when you leaned down, pressing your forehead against his.

"Hunter, I want you to come inside me," you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.

"Please, Hunter, make me yours."

He groaned at your words, his hands moving to grip your ass as he thrust up into you with renewed intensity. His breath came in harsh pants, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

And then, with a low, guttural moan of your name, he came, gripping you tight and spilling himself deep inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, the sensation only prolonging your pleasure as you clenched around him, milking him for every drop.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you breathless and spent, your sweaty bodies clinging to each other in the aftermath. Hunter's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

"That was.." Hunter trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Incredible," you finished for him, your lips brushing against his ear as you nuzzled closer.

You both stayed there for a few moments longer, your hearts slowly returning to a normal rhythm, your breaths evening out. It felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the connection between you stronger than ever.

Hunter glanced over your shoulder, his eyes catching onto the intercom panel, it was still blinking, switched on. He immediately knew, if any of his brothers had their helmets on they heard everything that happened inside the ship. He looked back at you, his expression softening as he brought a hand up to cup your cheek.

"Say what you said earlier, if you meant it" he murmured, his voice low and full of unspoken need.

You looked into his eyes, understanding immediately what he was asking for. Your lips curved into a soft smile as you leaned closer, brushing your nose against his.

"I want only you," you whispered, your words filled with sincerity.

Hunter’s eyes darkened with emotion, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pulled you closer.

"Say you’re mine," he breathed, his voice almost pleading, like he needed to hear it, needed to claim you in the most profound way.

Your heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze, and you pressed your forehead against his, your voice steady and full of conviction.

"I’m yours, Hunter. Yours."

He let out a deep sigh, a sound of pure contentment, as if your words had lifted a weight from his shoulders. His eyes flicked to the blinking intercom one last time, a slow smile spreading across his lips before he pulled you even closer, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss.

The kiss was full of everything you had just promised each other—of possession, desire, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. Hunter kissed you like he never wanted to let you go, and you responded with equal intensity, melting into him as your bodies pressed together, hearts beating in sync.

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