#what says This Is A Date but is still comfy enough that i can sprawl the fuck out on his couch to watch movies in the ideal position

[trashbaget]

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[elizabethsaige]

i can’t stop with the stobin headcanons so here’s more :)

-sharing clothing obviously but also fighting like sisters when they see the other with one of their clothing items on (they don’t really care)

-dustin so badly wants to officiate their lavender wedding that he rewrites the entire speech to fit them and presents it to them like he would a project. he gets poster board and everything, making it all fancy and convincing. in the end after his performance and some serious consideration, they both say no and he pouts but they promise he can be the flower girl if he really wants to

-joyce and hopper have adopted both robin and steve as their own children. el is so excited to have two more siblings, especially a sister to do girly things with, but since robin isn’t super girly, steve steps in and does all of that fun stuff with el, who loves every minute of it. robin and will bond through art and sexuality and expression and stuff like that, but robin also teaches will a little bit of spanish (to impress mike but he doesn’t tell her that part until later)

-in fact, once robin starts hanging with will more, she comes out to him. he is really happy to have her as a sister so he doesn’t feel so alone with what he’s going through. he doesn’t outright come out to her at first, but she knows (because of course she does) and she helps him come to terms with himself. and at the end of the day, they both help each other out because seeing will become more comfortable in himself and with his sexuality actually heals baby robin who spent all of middle and high school hating who she was and wishing she could just be “normal”

-sometimes steve and robin will make coordinating outfits with similar color schemes and whatnot

-both learn sign language because robin is scared that one day steve may lose some or all of his hearing due to all of the fights and injuries and she wants to make sure that they still have a way of communicating instead of lip reading. steve cries when he finds out why she’s making them do it, out of fear but mostly out of love for his best friend

-they most definitely have kissed “just to see how it is” and it left robin running to the sink to wash her mouth out with soap because “it really was that bad”

-steve “everyone’s gonna think we’re dating” and robin “hmm tragic. let them”

-when steve is sitting on the couch, robin will come and sit on him and sprawl her whole body across his lap. they both say it’s comfy

-one summer, they decide to do a cross-country roadtrip ending in LA and max BEGS them to take her with them. when they don’t, she doesn’t talk to either of them the following days leading up to it, the whole summer, and 2 weeks into the new school year. she finally breaks when she needs to ask steve for a ride somewhere

-robin loves fall and steve loves spring, both of them hate summer and are indifferent to winter

-the first time they see each other naked was after Starcourt when steve made robin come back to his house because her parents were out of town. she tried to refuse but he looked at her so gently and pleaded so that he she wouldn’t have to be alone. once they were back at his place, he made robin take a shower first but once she got in, it was too scary and overwhelming because she couldn’t see steve. “could you just come in here with me?” steve took a minute to carefully take his clothes off without it hurting too much and climbed in. the second he was in, they hugged for what seemed like a very long time as they cried and cried, not daring to let go in fear of the other getting taken away, before helping each other wash all of the blood, sweat, and dirt off of their bodies. that night they did not sleep but the comfort of knowing the other was alright was enough

[belovedblossoms-m]

Once she heard that sharp moan that came from him, those butterflies in Kaede just went crazy. So this is his weak spot huh? My God he sounds so cute...! she thought, unable to withhold such an eager smile as she hides away against his neck. She wanted to hear more so badly; she wanted to keep giving him more of this attention and get him more relaxed if it means any of those moans and gasps can spill again. She kept going, leaving behind more kisses and gentle nips along his skin. It was like a switch turned off in her, her attention now solely focused on Shuichi and nothing else in the world around them. His warmth, his touch, even his scent she was carefully taking note of to remember if she were to reach for this memory again in the future. She didn't mind taking things slow at all, it's what made it all the more special to just be with Shuichi--from going on dates, spending the day together or just being near each other, Kaede never wanted to have her time go by without him in it. To keep making memories and have someone so amazing and special in her life she never once regret knowing him. Even when it was eventually to come to this with him, she was patient and willing to wait. But it felt like those desires finally came to crumble that patience of hers and both feelings revealed just the same.

"Then let's not stop..." she whispered. "I'm alright with that." Her body was lowered onto the bed after, realizing how comfy and lush the bedding was against her it was even enough to just have a good cuddle together on something like this. Kaede chuckled to herself at the thought, though felt as if she were in a loving trance when the couple gazed at one another for what felt like forever. She smiled shyly, her cheeks remained warm and red and hair sprawled about above her head on the bed. She really must have looked like an angel the way he looked at her. And hearing him say her name with such a breath she never knew she could hear definitely speaks more than a thousand words how he was feeling about her. He was in love, and so was she. Filled with this wondrous feeling, she happily went in with his kiss, her arms around him to keep her closer to her and taking in the astounding passion. She felt his fingers guide its own trace down from her waist, past the thighs and slipped underneath her skirt before reminding her of consent and comfort.

"Right, of course I'll let you know. I do still feel so safe with you, Shuichi and that won't change. You always take such care about me, but I won't hesitate to say anything either. And...you do the same too if I go too far." Her body was anticipating his next move, though she felt the need to remind him as well that he's capable of stopping too. Kaede knew she had the tendency to be a little...much sometimes. But she wouldn't ever do anything to harm him. She left him another sweet kiss on his cheek, a reassuring smile for him as she followed up, "Okay? We can take our time...I want to remember this night with you."

@ahogedetective

// @belovedblossoms

He chuckled softly at her words. He was relieved that Kaede wasn't mad about him being too shy to make the first move, and that she didn't mind doing so. Perhaps that was the push he needed, to stop hesitating and finally do something, too. And hearing that she also wanted him just as much, made his heart flutter. As they kissed, the sighs and moans she uttered, were music to his ears, and all the more reason why he wanted to kiss her over and over. He sighs in content at the hand in his hair, and when she grips his arm. That little affirmation that he can keep going, was slowly helping to make more of the initial shyness melt away....and further making him glad that them originally popping into this place as a 'joke'.... was no longer a joke, anymore. Now his other hand goes to snake around her waist, giggling at her words. "I-I'm glad.... I don't want to let go of you, either..."

The trailing kisses from his cheeks to his chin, made him hum softly. But the nips to his neck, especially any especially sensitive spots she just happened to nibble, made a sharp gasp leave him. It made his cheeks burn even worse, as his neck was one of his sensitive spots... which made those nips to his neck feel all the more good. "O...Oh yeah...?" He breathes out. Doing even more than kissing.... something that he normally never expected they'd be doing so soon. But the thought of them getting even more intimate than this, was making his heart race. They're old enough to be able to express these desires together, and they were in the perfect place for it. There was no way, he would want take such an opportunity for granted. "Yeah.... I'd like that. Let's do that.... I don't want to stop here. Not anytime soon..."

Giving her waist the softest squeeze, he presses his body up against hers much more. So much so, that he slowly makes her back softly plop onto the bed, Shuichi now hovering over her. Gazing down at her like this, made his heart thump hard into his chest. She looks so beautiful.... reminding him of lucky he feels, to be able to be this intimate, this loving, with her. "Kae...de...." The way he breathes her name, was full of that very feeling. Once more, he presses his lips against hers. Slower, deeper, were his kisses, but still all the more passionate. One hand cups her cheek, while the other slow, sensual rubs, from her waist, down to her thighs....with the tip of his fingers daring to feel her bare skin under her skirt.

In between pants, he tells her: "L....Let me know whenever you need me to stop, or if you're not comfortable with something. I want you to feel as safe and comfortable as possible during this..."

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[milkybonya]

strangers to lovers!Jacob

Pairing: college!Jacob x gender neutral reader

Warnings: none

[a/n]: idk what this is but it has been in my drafts for a while and i just decided yeet lets post it! it came fresh out of the time i was super sof for Jacob hehe

How you met:

On a rainy day, a student ran into the lecture hall fifteen minutes late while soaking wet. To his surprise, there were no seats in the back, so he slowly moved forward until he found an empty seat: right next to yours.

Apologizing for being loud and late, he settled into his seat and began to pay attention. The sound of water dripping from his hair onto the page in front of you distracted you, and you offered a beanie of yours for him to wear. He thought you were being kind to him and making sure he didn't catch a cold, but really you just hated the way his hair was dripping everywhere.

He put it on and later the lecture ended. When it did, he immediately took it off to give it back to you, but saw you were gone. You had another class right after that one and had to rush off, which is why you disappeared like that. He tightly clutched the beanie and promised to himself that he would wash it and it to you.

The second meeting:

"Wait! WAIT!" a boy yelled outside the bus, hitting the door with his fist while chasing after it.

The bus, packed with students from campus heading home, stopped for him and let him on. He panted and apologized many times before getting on and pushing through the many people who were standing. They all groaned at him, and even you were getting angry just watching the way he was acting... until he stopped right in front of you.

"Hi! Do you remember me?" he asked you a big smile on his face.

"No...?" you responded, removing your earbuds.

He took some time to open the zipper of his backpack, rummaging through before he found a beanie that looked incredibly familiar to you.

"My beanie?"

The boy nodded, handing it back to you.

"Finally, I get to give it back! Thanks for letting me use it that day."

"No problem!" you said, taking the beanie out of his hands.

"So where is this bus headed anyways?" the boy asked, looking around.

You blinked at him, confused.

"Oh.. I kind of just saw you on this bus and followed you on. I'm not really sure where it's going," he explained, still smiling.

You laughed.

"You got on here just to give this to me?"

The boy nodded, eagerly.

"Well... this bus goes to the west side of the city-"

"Really? Darn.. I live on the east side!"

"Well you might wanna get off and take a bus back then," you advised him

He considered it, but shook his head, no.

"Are you headed home?" he asked instead.

"Nope! To a library near my home to study," you said.

"Well can I tag along?" he asked.

You couldn't say no to his adorable puppy eyes, so you agreed, even though you had planned to study alone.

Confession:

You and Jacob, now a close friend, had finally managed to reserve a spot in a private study room. You entered the space feeling like champions, caressing the comfy chairs and sprawling all over the huge desk, drawing on the whiteboard and prancing around like little kids.

Then, you finally got to work, reviewing materials from your shared class. Jacob was using the whiteboard to complete some calculations, so you didn't think much of it when he asked you to look up at what he'd written.

[y/n], i have something to say!

He hid his face in his arms as you read over his cute, neat writing, blushing when he witnessed your lovely smile.

"What is it, Jacob?" you asked him.

"[y/n]... I like you! Let's date... if you want," he said, smiling.

You smiled back at the boy, nodding.

"Okay, let's do it."

The first date:

After walking around a few music stores as Jacob searched for strings that he could use to replace the snapped ones on his guitar, the two of you stepped inside a café. Strangely enough, your favourite song was playing, and Jacob didn't miss a beat in pointing this out.

"[y/n], you love this song! Should I ask them to play it louder?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

"As if you could ever work up the courage to ask them," you joked.

Jacob huffed and trudged up to the front counter, asking them in the softest voice ever imaginable if they could turn up the volume, which they did. You gave a thumbs up to Jacob when he turned around, dancing to the music that played while Jacob laughed.

After the two of you ordered, Jacob quickly found the best spot and shyly pulled out your chair for you to sit first.

The two of you enjoyed your drinks and snacks while talking about whatever random things came to mind, and Jacob spent the whole day smiling at you and laughing at all of your jokes. Later in the evening when you went for a walk around a park, Jacob took off the beanie he had been wearing and carefully placed it on your head, making sure to cover your ears with it so you wouldn't get cold.

"My hair looks terrible today but you staying warm is more important than my hair," Jacob said with a laugh.

You reached up to ruffle the boy's hair and he tightly shut his eyes, relishing in the feeling of your fingers gently touching his scalp, even if it was for a brief moment.

"You know... we first met because of a beanie, too. When I lended you mine," you said as you walked.

"That's right! Do you think we should get matching beanies sometime?" he asked.

"If we can find something cool, then definitely," you said, reaching for Jacob's hand and holding it in yours.

Jacob walked you to your dorm that night and didn't leave until you shut the door and he could see your light was on. Even then, he still texted you to make sure you were okay and to wish you a good night.

[utterlyinevitable]

Sharing a bed for O x E! I love them so much 😭🥰

Two in a Bed

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Odette Hall) Rating: Teen+ Summary: She’s always taken the second bedroom when she spends the night at Ethan’s, so he as no reason to expect anything else.  Trope: Fluff, Domestic  

A/N: not the best thing i’ve written. the scene in my head just was not coming out in words.  

__________________

This isn’t the first time they’re spending the night together.

They’ve fallen asleep on couches a plenty over the last three years. Odette curled up on the Diagnostics Team couch with her legs thrown over Ethan’s lap. Her head resting on his shoulder on flights. Snuggling up to weather the storm at an over-night work emergency at a New Hampshire ski resort – though somehow, she awoke in the oversized bed and to Ethan sprawled out on the couch.

But this was different.

Sharing a bed implied something… intimate. Certain assumptions surrounding someone’s space. Daunting preconceived notions.

She knows Ethan’s bed is comfy – so much better than the second bedroom.

Soon he’d be back and Odette would have to decide. Decide if this dance they’ve been doing – testing the waters of their friendship the last few weeks – was worth it. Their careful little world could shatter if she does something wrong. The idea of losing Ethan as a friend was scarier than the notion of never being his lover.

She’s thought about it all before. Many, many times. Of all the reasons she shouldn’t. Why she should always stick with the bedroom he gave her, because he values her over anything else.

But tonight she didn’t think about it. Not like she normally would. Something about being here – in his warmly lit living room with the expansive Boston skyline peering in – invigorated and inspired her. In the short time he’d been gone to change she began writing.

Less than five minutes after he departed, Ethan padded back in with his sleeping shorts on.

“Staying up?”

“Just a bit longer,” she nodded, frantically scribbling some things down on a small duck egg colored notebook she always kept close by.

“Okay.”

He grabbed his tablet off the docking station before settling on the couch next to her. Odette was sitting on her feet, long hair pulled back in a haphazard bun, hunched over the arm rest scribbling. Ethan took a moment to appreciate her; the way her lips parted and he could feel her breaths moving in excited spurts, and how she was squinting so hard – her eyes struggling without her glasses. He watched her work and didn’t dare turn off the Tower Records documentary she had playing. If he learned anything, it’s that you cannot impose yourself on a creatives’ environment.

Eventually, a long while later, he nodded off next to her.

Once she was done, she turned to her sound companion. He looked so peaceful with his head lolled back, hands folded across his stomach, long legs spread out for miles, and his hardened daily expression looking ever so boyish. Calm. It took everything in her to stop staring.

Odette shook him gently awake; “Ethan, hey. Time for bed.”

Deep azure eyes blinked, settling half open on her fuzzy form. He didn’t say anything, just nodded and took her outstretched hands.

Ode pulled him off the couch and led him towards the corridor. A small tap to his lower back signifying him to proceed without her. She took care of turning everything off as he made his way to the other side of the apartment.

Ethan waited for her in the doorway of his room – waiting, anticipating and preparing for a proper ‘Goodnight’ before retreating to their rooms. They’ve done this countless times even after openly deciding to date. This little ritual has become second nature – he could even do it in his sleep.

Leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest, he waited. Eyes heaving and struggling to keep awake, he waited.

Click.

The last lamp in the living room shut off. Ethan stood a bit straighter in the dim lighting casted from his less-than-effective bedroom blinds.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Oh!”

Odette was startled to see him still there in the dim lighting. Most nights he climbs into bed when her mind proves too restless for him. Though seeing his slumped stature pulled at the corners of her lips.

Without hesitation, Ethan hazily reached for her hand, then leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight, Etta.”

Her name came out low and raspy on his lips. He lingered there longer than usual, taking in her natural scent. And Ode couldn’t help but turn towards him and his warm breath caressing her cheek. Couldn’t deny the inevitably in the palm of her hand.

Seconds passed. The moment suspended in mid night air. Ethan waited for her to mimic his sentiment and pull away. And waited.

And neither let go.

She squeezed. His eyes widened, a switch flicking on and immediately sobering him up.

Odette Hall and Ethan Ramsey looked at one another for moments and moments and seconds on seconds just there in the doorway. Him asking wordless questions and her silent, assuring answers in the twinkle of her shadowy features. Their eyes conveying all that needed to be said.

Ethan let go, taking a step back into his room, and watched her move towards his bed. Still standing in the corner of his room, his mind and body couldn’t quite catch up with what was happening.

She’s been in his space before – they’ve had coffee in bed when he’s been too hungover to move.

But now she’s fully in his sheets. And he knows the second her head hits the pillow she’ll have claimed it all as her own – every single facet of his life now hers, wholly. Her rosy scent lingering for time to come.

Ethan knows he shouldn’t stare. Moves gingerly to the side he’s slept on longer than he can remember. And she looks so at home in his bed; like its always been her side to begin with. It’s all a bit different now. More enticing. Makes the Ethan Ramsey want to spend more time at home. He has to shake the thought away.

It’s just a bed.

Odette’s propped up on one elbow watching him muddle his way. He does. Not quick enough to not make things awkward, and Ode to think maybe they should’ve talked about this first. Just because they’re dating doesn’t mean they just get to invade one another’s space whenever they so choose. No matter how right it feels.

Ethan settles in. Head hits the pillow. She twists to reach towards the bedside table. And his foot instinctively searches for her ever-freezing one, just to make sure she’s really there. He sighs happily when he truly finds her. His eyes might be closed but he’s certainly not dreaming.

Odette shuts the lamp off; the smallest, lightest, happiest of smiles at home on her thin lips. She shimmies down the sheets to get comfortable, satin pajamas on Egyptian cotton sheets. Rolls fully on her side to face him. Even in the dark he’s so beautiful. He’s on his back and eyes are closed, his breathing evening out as he descends slowly back into a further peacefulness than before. She’s certainly staring – and if he feels it, he doesn’t say anything. Ethan just extends an arm out to her. Without a single doubt, she cuddles closer.

They drift off to sleep. The second her head rested in the nook where his shoulder meets his neck, security overtook her. Not long after he was lulled by the warmth her body radiated through him and her dainty breaths coating his skin.

And their hearts beating in time.  

________________________

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations 

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[mxvladdy]

Flutter

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Contains: pregnancy talk (kinda), angst, and drama

Pairing: Dante x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and a brief mention of terminating (like a sentence but still)

Back on my bullshit with the baby fics lol. I love the trope idk why.

Thump thump thump-thump thump thump

Dante stirs with a huff of annoyance, his ears twitch focusing on the insufferable rhythm that was stopping him from resting. It started a few hours ago. Nothing major, something he could definitely doze through. The slow irregular was almost calming, until it got louder. At first he had chalked it up to one of the many freaky experimental weapons dangling in Nico’s tiny workspace at the back of the crowded van. They tended to pop and hiss if some raw materials got too close. But it had picked up in the past hour, growing consistent and strong, really strong. Strong enough to make it hard to ignore. Dante cracks open a bloodshot eye looking around at the van’s occupants to find the culprit.

Nero sat oblivious to the world on the floor across from him leaning on the side of the van’s tire well. His eyes are shut, and his face relaxes as the adrenaline of the day finally starts to seep out of his system. He nods his head along to the tunes blasting out of the jukebox in the corner. He was oblivious to the accusatory glare of his uncle. Dante crosses the kid off as the likely suspect of his annoyance. Nero looked about ready to pass out, each bobble of his head becoming more erratic and jerky as sleep started to take over. He clearly wasn’t hearing this.

So, he turns to the front of the van to check on the others. The ladies were chatting idly in the front. Nothing super exciting gossip wise. The three of them were tossing little jabs at each other. Well, Lady and Trish were, Nico was hiding a smirk behind a freshly lit cigarette as the two grew heated. The three of them called it “friendly bitching” but he still wasn’t all that sure. Whenever Lady or Trish used that tone with him he was about to either get robbed eight ways to Sunday by one of them or his ass kicked. The two human women seemed oblivious to the noise...perhaps Trish heard it? Hmmm-nah. Trish didn’t seem to notice the steady thumping that had now become a hyper fixation to him.

Huffing the hunter settles back down in the couch cushions of the couch to look out the window at the blur of the scenery passing by. The hum of the van’s engine and the low roar of the A/C were almost enough to drown out the noise filling his skull. He pops a finger in his ear digging out some wax. Did that smack across the head early knock something? Did a gun go off too close? Wait... shouldn’t he hear ringing if that was the case? Ye, the more he focused on it, it wasn’t inside his head. He checks out the window, his hand itching for a gun. Was a demon really that dumb to follow a van filled with demon hunters? He snorts at his question. Of course, they were. He was pretty sure they had finished the contract with a 100% kill count. Still, he checks out the window, just in case.

“I’m guessing you hear it too?” Vergil stirs from his meditative stupor, popping his neck with a satisfying grunt before turning his gaze to Dante. All of his younger brother’s squirming finally got too much for him to ignore. Vergil focused on his sibling, arms crossed over his freshly bandaged chest. “Really?” He looks down to his lap in disgust. Dante smirks, wiggling his muddy boots where they rested crossed on his thighs.

“What can I say? You’re ridiculously comfy.” Dante smirks. He knew his dick of a brother would threaten to stab him for dirtying his clothes, but he had a trump card, and he was going to use it. They both look down at your sleeping form sprawled on Dante’s chest and a part of Vergil's legs. You lay on him, curled up in a neat little ball on his chest. A dark spot grew beneath where your cheek was squished on his cotton shirt. Dante can’t help the smile that creeps across his face. He pulls his signature coat tighter around you and strokes your face with a only slightly grimy finger. Vergil sighs, settling back down, careful not to wake you either. He had a big ol’ sweet spot for you, and damn Dante couldn’t blame him.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

Dante hisses, pulling away from your peaceful expression, jealous for a brief moment that your weak human hearing couldn’t pick up on the invasive noise. “You sense where it’s coming from?” He rumbles low in his chest, careful not to disturb you. His brother sits silently for a moment wiping at his drowsy eyes. Dante watches his ear twitch minutely picking up on every sound in the immediate vicinity.

“No, I-” His head snaps back to Dante so fast he was surprised Vergil didn’t give himself whiplash. His silver eyes are wide with shock for a moment before softening to an expression Dante only saw when he would talk with Kyrie over dinner. It was warm, protective, and far too gentle a face for him to be pulled out for him. Dante looks back over his shoulder on instinct before it hits him, hard. Vergil wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Oh shit, oh shit.

Dante focuses his senses on you before he had been merely using his broad range listening figuring it was an outside threat. He smells you first, your natural scent was a soft and sweet thing, like moss by a river bed, or freshly turned soil. It only got earthier after a day of hard work. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered on you too, and something else, something more hormonal and almost floral. Beneath your changing scent, he hears your heart thumping steadily in your chest. That was always a comforting sound to him, an anchor whenever he worried for your safety. But underneath it, he heard it. It was a rapid rhythm over yours, in you.

Dante jerks up, tumbling to the floor and cracking his head hard on the metal guards of the stairs. You would have toppled with him if Vergil hadn’t lunged to grab you. “What?” You look around confused but alert. The van is silent in the aftermath of the sudden burst of energy, all faces now turned to the three of you. Vergil holding you close to his chest while you focus on Dante. “You ok?” You look him over, noticing how pale he suddenly was as he looked at you. He was breathing heavily and panicked. His silver-grey eyes flitting between yours and up to Vergil’s.

“Ye,” He croaks, running a hand through his dirty hair not moving from his spot on the dirty floor. “Ye-shit, sorry just slipped in my sleep.”

“Quite a ‘slip’.” You wiggle out of Vergil’s hold and come to bend over Dante. You put the back of your hand to his forehead. You had all gotten pretty banged up this mission, and as usual, Dante had taken the brunt of it. He laughs a little too forcefully to be considered natural and pushes your hand away to get up.

“You know me. I’m full of surprises.” He flops back onto the couch looking at you oddly before opening his arms up to you. He fights against the tremble he feels spreading across his whole body.

You catch the sour look growing on Vergil’s face, it was boiling over to murderous. He shakes his head before sitting back in his spot and reaching for a magazine.

“Everything alright back there?” Nico shouts looking up into the rearview mirror.

“Yeh-yeh.” Dante waves not taking his eyes off you. “Just my old man senses getting to me.” The van collectively snorts at that, all turning back to what they were originally doing. Picking up his discarded coat you climb back into the cradle of your boyfriend's arms.

Boyfriend. You smile into his sweaty neck. It was a new term for both of you and your relationship. You two have been skirting around the idea of a committed relationship for months now. You’ve been with the gang for years now, flitting in and out of each other's life mission after mission as a freelance mercenary. Dante welcomed you into the fold of his merry band of misfits well enough, but you could see the line in the sand he drew pretty easily.

You respected it. Life in this business was hard and sometimes very short. He was slow to open up and trust, not with just you, but anyone. You got it, you understand his hesitation. Once you both established that the feelings you felt for each other went beyond good friends the lines and walls he built began to fade. The few months of you two trying out the word have been going well. Or, at least you thought so. Dante seemed pleased enough too. The few dates you two were able to scrap your collective pennies together for were a blast. Spontaneous coffee dates, walks down none demon-infested streets and parks. Once he even took a weekend off to go cross country with you. That weekend had been the most relaxed you had ever seen him, and as a bonus, the sex had been phenomenal too.

“You ok?” You kiss the stubble on his strong jaw, taking in the hard look in his eyes. His arms were rigid around you, protective yet also isolating. He looked shut-off, lost deep in his mind back in that place you knew he went whenever something was deeply troubling him. Dante said nothing for a moment, his large palm rubbing your lower back in stiff robotic movements. “Dante?”

He snaps out of it with a jerk. “Ye babe- just tired.” He kisses the worry from your brow and slips back into your original position, arms locking securely over your middle. He listens to your breathing and heart slow as you drift off, the little thumping underneath beating on.

From the moment Dante stepped out of the van he shut down. Not just from you, but everyone. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just instinct after years of protecting himself. He noticed it happening from afar like he was on the sidelines and completely unable to control what he was doing. He took job after job that Morrison threw at him, not waiting for backup or help. He began staying in his room, slinking upstairs instead of his usual hang out spot down in his office to be social. He just leaves everyone behind. He knows Lady and Trish will blow it off, they were used to the odd mood swing by now, chalking it up to mission fatigue. You knew better though, and he loved you for it. Even if it irritated him right now.

The first few days after that mission Dante saw you trying to pretend like you didn’t notice the walls he was rebuilding around himself. He wanted to believe that you couldn’t see how he turned up the jukebox every time you stepped into Devil May Cry, or that you pretend not to notice how his eyes would drift to look at anything but you when you stood in front of him. It hurt, it hurt to do this, but he couldn’t stop this self sabotage he was inflicting on himself and the stress he was pushing onto you. He just couldn’t take it.

He saw his mother every time he looked at you, could smell the ash and sulfur, could remember how his young lungs filled with smoke as he cried for something he could never get back while his childhood burned around him. He couldn’t do it, so he stopped seeing you. Not that it helped much. He heard the beating every time you came near trying to talk to him, so he stopped listening too. He didn’t know what else to do.

“If you put your hair back I swear I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart from your brother anymore, especially with that new attitude you're sporting.” Dante hears the slight edge in your voice. You sat in your now usual spot on the edge of his desk, before that day his lap would have been filled with your warm sweet body. You didn’t look happy in the least bit. You looked exhausted. He doesn’t look up from his magazine, a slow buzz of panic begins to fill his ears. Were you sick? Did you know?

He puts up another wall. “Doubt it,” He flips a page of his magazine reaching blindly for his beer. “I’m still the better looking one.” More silence. Dante feels your hard stare from where you sat.

“Need something?”

Your shoulders slump. “No-it’s nothing Dante.” He feels himself break just a little at the moisture threatening to spill from your lashes before they are blinked away. You leave without saying goodbye. He doesn’t see you again after that, your spot is soon replaced with piles of empty bottles.

“I expected better from you.”

Dante chokes on his beer, the foam shooting up into his nose and bringing tears to his eyes as it burns its way back to his throat. “Damn it, Vergil! Knock sometime?” His brother says nothing storming over to his desk and kicking a chair out to sit next to him. The look on his face was venomous. “Don’t give me that look.” Dante sighs, popping the cap off of another beer bottle.

“What look?”

Dante waves the butt of his bottle at him. “That! That look. It’s the one you always give me right before you stab me.”

Vergil chuckles humourlessly. “I just might if you continue to ignore your growing issue.” He pushes leaning into Dante’s space.

Dante bristles feeling like a trapped dog. “They should find out on their own-”

“Brother-”

Dante cuts him off with a swipe of his hand, amber liquid sloshing over his desk and lap. He feels his control slipping. The heat of his devil form simmering just below the surface. “I don’t want to talk about this.” I don’t want to acknowledge this.

“It’s been weeks.” Vergil presses on lean in close to his twin. “Will there ever be a right time?”

Dante bares his fangs in warning. His fingers itching to curl up and punch his brother. “That is rich coming from you. Remind me again, how many times have you tried to kill your son?” He meant for it to hurt, to let that barb sink in deep and fester. Vergil doesn’t even react, his gaze still cool and steady.

“I regret it-in parts. But I am not doing this for you.” Dante frowns. He had figured that. When Vergil arrived with Dante all those months ago torn up and bloodied from quite literally crawling out of Hell the welcome he got from the crew had been...lukewarm to put it mildly. They weren’t openly hostile, but it got pretty close sometimes. Only you and Nero had been pleasant to his brother right off the bat. The others came around eventually, but Vergil had taken a real shine to you. You were inquisitive and hungry to prove yourself, but smart enough to know when to back down. It’s what drew him to you, so it would make sense Vergil liked it too. “I cannot change my past actions, nor would I,” Dante scoffs. “But you have been given yet another opportunity that I envy.” He looks over his shoulder to the empty office. He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t still envy his younger brother and his successes. To be free-to have had a life, dare he say to act almost human? Dante had always been the friendlier and kinder of the two, even as kids. He was sociable and street smart. Most importantly, people trusted him.

Then he found you, a most extraordinary mate. Vergil knew Dante would never admit it vocally but he shows his love with how he acts around you. Dante was always brash and foolhardy but he was milder with you. Whenever you were in the room his sole focus was always on you. His eyes, his body, every part of his being just seemed to gravitate to you. Whenever you paced, pissed from a recent job he would follow in his chair rolling left and right to keep his body in line with you. Even on the field, he stayed close, a towering figure of red and flames. To have him cast you out like this... Vergil shakes his head. “Why are you stalling?” He asks.

“They should find out on their own,” Dante repeats himself.

“And what if they decide not to tell you? What if they decide not to go through with it? You are limiting their time frame, Dante. You are putting them both in danger.” Vergil’s words strike deep. If he can’t get his brother to see reason now, then he will have to intervene. If Dante never forgave him for this transgression, then so be it.

The roar of primal rage was the only warning Vergil got before he was airborne. His back colliding hard against the old oak bookshelves across the room, Dante’s splintered desk pinning him for a moment before he is being dragged up the shelves by his neck. Empty bottles and old tomes clatter to the floor. He matches his brother’s energy shifting in a blaze of blue fury until he faces his red counterpart. “You lash out, why? Because you know I’m right?” He hisses around bared razor sharp fangs. “Do you hope they will leave you?” Something passes through Dante’s scleraless eyes. “It won’t be like before, brother.”

The whine Dante emits sounds like a wounded animal. It was high and reedy, it was filled with turmoil. Vergil couldn’t stop the sharp bark of laughter that fell from his lips. Unbelievable. “Dante.” Vergil grabs one of the claws locked around his throat. “For all your foolish and idiotic behavior you have built yourself a family. Do you honestly think any of them would let something happen? Do you think I would let something happen?” The fist around his neck loosens and drops.

“I want them to live a normal life.” Dante steps away, his voice uncertain. “Look at us- at Nero and Kyrie. Being what we are, we have royally screwed them over.” He stares down at his rough armored hands. His elytra pulses red veins with demonic energy. “And a damn kid? Nero got by alright, but narrowly. Do I look like someone that can handle this?”

“No.” Vergil can’t lie, it would only hurt you in the end. “Not at first. While I have no right to talk about being a father, I know you can do it far better than I.” He smiles to himself. “‘sides, at least your better half has a head on their shoulders.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dante grunts retreating to where his desk used to be. He breathed deeply and shifted back to his human form. Damn it, he had just paid off the repairs from the last time he wrecked the place. Bending over to pick up his magazine, the two were interrupted by his door bursting open. Nero and Lady bursting through bickering heatedly at each other before they notice the mess.

“Did we interrupt something?” Nero steps open the splinters of Dante’s old desk taking in his half triggered father.

“No.” The brothers say in unison.

“Good-” Lady pushes forwards, tossing a missive to Dante. He catches it with deft fingers and rips it open. “Normally I would have taken this on myself with the kid-since you’ve been sulking.” She shoots him a scathing look. “But we need all boots on the ground. Trish and your flickering flame are already there, but this portal just isn’t budging.”

“What!” Vergil snaps. Dante stares blankly at the letter, a high pitch whining growing in his ears. It was getting hard to breathe. “You left them there? They are vulnerable.” The blue devil grabs the letter from his brother looking at the address briefly before grabbing Yamato before rushing for the door.

Nero shouts after his father in confusion, his outburst uncharacteristic for him. “The hell was that about?” Nero watches the skies as the blue figure disappears. “They are perfectly capable of handling themselves…”

“Get in the van. I’ll see you there.” Dante grits out, crumbling the paper up and tossing it aside. He flys out moments later, guns and swords are forgotten. Anything that touches you would be getting ripped to shreds with his bare hands. He travels in a blur of panic fighting the sense of guilt threatening to overcome him. How could he be so stupid? Just because you weren’t at the office didn’t mean that you weren’t still taking jobs. He always worried when you went out solo- or without him, but he was confident in your abilities. A few scrapes and bruises weren’t anything to stress over. It wasn’t something to stress about before. You were still on the field and it was his damn fault.

The sound of gunfire and the roars of dying demons draws him in. Dante’s sharp eyes find you immediately. You were holding your own. You back in a corner but your guns were hot, dropping demon after demon with near flawless aim. Instinctively his demon side rumbles in pride before he squashes the feeling. Now wasn’t the time. Vergil beat him there by minutes but was already covered in gore as he assists you from above, slicing through the almost endless wave of beasts. Dante lands near you grabbing a Fury in midjump throwing it away to splatter against a building yards away. “About time you showed up!” Trish shouted from her perch lightning crackling around her. He ignores her, instead he launches himself at the gaping maw of the portal. He fights with reckless abandon, each wound and injury fueling his fire. One more hit on him just meant one less directed at you.

The fighting didn’t last long after Nero and Lady arrived adding enough fire support that he was able to destroy the portal and clean up the remaining hellspawn. The moment it was Dante was on you. “The hell were you thinking!” He rounds on you his massive body crowding your space.

You hold your ground staring up at him. “Hey, so glad to finally hear from you.” You crane your neck up to meet his glowing eyes. “I love it when my boyfriend finally remembers I exist.”

“You could have gotten hurt!” He glosses over your snark and checks you out. You were fine, good.

You back away from him throwing your hands up in confusion. “Yes? That’s kind of par for the course isn’t it?” You were baffled by his behavior. Weeks. Weeks! Weeks of ignoring your calls, and a conveniently empty office every time you tried to drop by, and now that you have his attention the first thing he does is yell at you? Where did he get off? In fact, his shit attitude only angered you more. “Ya know what? I don’t want to hear it.” You turn your head to where Nico sat leaning out of her driver-side window. She waves at you. “Can you give me a lift back to my place? I got to grab some fresh clips before heading back out.”

A red hand blocks your exit. “No-” Dante grabs your forearm gently tugging you to look at him. His natural heat was a comfort you didn’t realize you missed so much. “Babe-let me handle it.”

“Dante,” You try to pull away. “It’s my job. What has gotten into you?”

He looks over to his brother, the conflict he had been trying to avoid closing in too fast for him.

Vergil holds his stare and shrugs. “Come-the two need to talk, let’s head back for now.” Asshole. The rest of the group follows his eldest brother casting curious glances over their shoulders as they pile into the van. He really wasn’t ready for this.

The two of you watch them go in silence. “Let me take you back? Please?” Dante let’s go of your arm. You nod, it’s not like you have any choice now. Well, you could walk, your body screams at the thought of moving any more than necessary. You’ve been getting exhausted faster and faster these days. Perhaps the stress of the job was getting to you. He scoops you up in his giant arms stretching his wings out to their full and impressive length before taking to the sky. He glides through the city taking extra care to make it as smooth as possible for you. His landing was as silent on the empty streets surrounding your apartment building.

The mid-afternoon sun was high overhead, the perpetual fog of the city finally breaking enough to let in the heat of the day. You slide from his arms and lead him up the steps to your door. Swinging the door wide you look up at him. “Do you mind?”

“What?”

You point to his devil form. “Shrinking? I don’t think you can fit.”

Oh right. He chuckles nervously. “Ain’t nothing a bit of lube and patience can’t fix right?” You don’t laugh, your lips pull taught. He coughs shifting in a flash of heat. Once he’s human he squeezes through the narrow door frame and just stares at you. Dante shuffles from side to side. Great. Now what?

You rub at your neck weary you could feel another knot growing. Weeks ago you had a whole speech laid out for when you got him through your door. You wanted to chew him out, to yell at him for cutting you out so unceremoniously. Shout that if he was going to break up with you at least do it cleanly, not this emotional roller coaster. A sense of anger fills you. Damn it, was this really it? It wasn’t like this was the first time a partner has done this. You just had hoped that Dante would be different. He had always been so dependable. “Just make it quick, Dante.” You didn’t have the steam for this right now. You felt nauseous and a pulsing head coming on. Ugh, and you still have that job waiting for you.

Dante’s silver brows scrunch up. “Make what quick?”

You wave at the distance between the two of you. “This. This breakup. Do it fast so it’ll give me the adrenaline to get through my next job so I can pass out tonight and get some sleep.”

Any other day Dante’s look of sheer shock would have been hilarious- today just wasn’t one of those days. “You think? Heh-shit yes, I can see why...” He rakes a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s not like that, I- I was running from my problems again.”

Your hackles raise in anger. “I’m a problem now?”

“What! No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He points to himself. “I’m the problem. I ruin everything I touch!” His hurt cuts through your aggression.

“Dante-” You have had this discussion before. “You know I don’t think that.”

“You should.” He cuts you off, his expression imploring. “I messed up-I messed up big time with you. I should have said something the moment I knew but I just locked up and ran, like always.”

Knew? Knew what? “Dante, I don’t understand.”

“I-you...how are you feeling of late? I don’t know anything about this stuff, different?” His eyes swipe over your dusty battle garb. You feel his eyes stop at your navel holding there too long to be considered a coincidence before dropping to your feet.

“I’m sorry.” His breath hitches, getting dangerously close to a feeling he had been bottling up for too long. You are quiet, doing the math in your head. He hears your heartbeat pick up, your breathing becoming fast and shallow.

“Get out.”

His heart sinks. What did he expect? Closing the distance between you he reaches for you, his hand hovering by your face waiting to see if you will let him touch you. You don’t move, don’t even look up at him when his hands cup your face. So he moves crouching down to get a look at you. Your gaze is blank but resolute.

“I’m sorry.” He tries again. You ignore him far too engrossed in your revelation. Idly you trace a palm down to your stomach before flinching away is burned. “I’ll-I’ll be around…” He trails off all steam lost. At a loss he does the only thing he can think to do and flees, disappearing back into the streets outside your home like the coward he was.

[sunlightwoo]

Burning

pairing: minghao x g.n reader

genre: fake dating, secret admirer au, slow burn kinda pining au, there’s your usual angst and fluff, some humor but yeah heheh

wc: 2546

summary: you've been getting random letters and gifts from a secret admirer that you knew nothing about, but something about them seemed familiar. however, how could you even find a way to find them to reject their feelings when your best friend asks you to play his fake significant other to win over his crush?

a/n: IT IS IIIIIII YOUR SECRET SANTA @viastro​ :))) i was absolutely shitting myself when you kept asking me if i had you and i was like hOW THE HELL DID SHE KNOW??? but anyways, i hope this really slaps you hard in the heart bro and i am so sorry that this is not my best work cause i’ve been so busy HUGOSGFNOEAGFOAE i love you lots and wish you special hugs and cuddles <3

maybe it was someone that you knew that could’ve been pranking you in this very moment. there was no way that you could actually have a secret admirer, right? after getting these random poems and lyrics that were written on little colorful letters in perfect handwriting, you were sure that there wasn’t a possible reason that someone could be sending it to you. you weren’t special.

“y/n! what are you looking at?” you hear someone call from behind you and turn to see that it was one of your friends, Minghao.

you give him a soft smile as you showed him another letter that you’ve received this week, the fifth one in a row. his eyes sparkle in amusement as you watch him skim the poetic words that were written on the paper before handing it back to you.

“they sound quite romantic, in all honesty.” he replies, giving you a warm smile as you nodded in response.

“yeah they do,” you reply as the thoughts that you were echoing in your mind continued to run around your head.

but they aren’t you.

It was another day that you were finally going to confess to your crush when you saw him already walking down the hall to meet you at your locker. There was confusion on your face when you noticed how distressed he looked in the moment and it wasn’t something normal for you to witness when it was about Minghao.

He was usually composed, as you were the one that was never at peace with yourself when all that you have been getting is letters and gifts whenever you walk into your literature lecture hall. However you were curious and slightly worried at his phase in the moment, seeing as though he seemed out of breath and you assumed that he must’ve ran here from his previous class to catch you out of your recent math class that just ended.

“I need a favor,” He breathes out softly and you wait for him to catch his breath before looking at him expectantly to finish his thought, knowing that there was never a time that he asked for favors, which meant that this must’ve been serious.

“Is everything okay?” You ask quietly and he shakes his head in response, looking up at you momentarily as he placed his hands on top of his knees.

“I need you to play my fake significant others for a few days, because this person is so close to being a stalker and she won’t back off if it’s you.” He breathes out as you look at him in confusion while having difficulty processing with the words that left his lips.

“You need me to, what?”

You remember him mentioning a couple months back when you started the spring semester of a girl that really liked him, to the point where she was willing to do anything for him at all. However, it seemed as though it must’ve been getting out of hand considering he was willing to run all the way to the other side of campus to find you, which meant that it was a serious matter.

“Why can’t you just file a restraining order on her?” You ask him in confusion, walking with him back to your shared apartment on campus while you listened to him explain his side of the story from what must’ve happened to him.

You listened to him intently, wondering why someone must’ve gone through all that trouble to show someone that they were interested in them, when you remembered today’s letter that you’ve received from the person that leaves their name with the line of an infinite symbol. It was selfish of you, you think to yourself, to not like the person’s way of trying to get your attention, but you couldn’t help but not focus on them but instead your best friend.

The one person that you could ever harbor feelings for.

It happened on a winter night after finals this year where you weren’t caring for your physical health, not eating proper meals or sleeping enough to study and help ace your exams. It wasn’t until Minghao showed up at your bedroom door with takeout, some tea and bad rom coms while cuddling together in your bed that night you recognized the blooming feelings for your best friend.

“So you want me to pretend to be your significant other?” You spoke slowly, speaking up after he finishes to give him a look of amusement and he nods in response, letting out a breath knowing that he was upset for having to ask for a favor with you until he lights up with an idea.

“It can help you find your secret admirer! You know, like they can see us together and they either finally confront you and tell you your feelings thinking that it’s too late or they just move on.” He points out and you hum in response, contemplating on which side of the bait to take onto the challenge but he did make a good point.

“So we start tomorrow then?”

The following day you notice that at the front of the lecture hall of your class once again stood a bunch of flowers and different gifts awaiting for you as your professor had already given you the familiar look of amusement. Handing you the new note that was yet to be read today, you looked at the neat penmanship that was sprawled onto it and read it thoroughly as you could feel heat rush up to your cheeks while reading it.

i heard that you were now dating minghao, the arts major, and i wanted to say congratulations. it seems as though i was too late and i understand that i should’ve confessed sooner. i wish the two of you all the happiness in the world, and maybe someday i will show you who i am and we can be just friends.

i’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines, y/n!

Marked with another infinite sign, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you closed the envelope in your hands, putting it into your bag when suddenly you felt someone’s presence behind you. Turning to see Minghao close by, he gives you a small smile until he notices the gifts nearby, raising an eyebrow at the sight of it when you move aside to show him today’s gifts.

“They said that they’ll back off because we are ‘dating’.” You say while putting air quotes around the words dating and he lets out a soft chuckle before taking your hand into his just for a moment.

“I mean, we do have to act like it because of the person standing at the door.” He replies and you look over his shoulder slightly to see the girl that had been stalking him pretty recently, already giving you a death glare as you could tell that she was pretty upset at the sight in front of her.

“It’s only for a couple months right? Nothing more than that, and no kissing in public?” You reassured after referencing the wishes that you wanted to put in terms of barriers between your fake relationship, knowing that it was all going to be fake and fabricated from your imagination.

“Just as long as she’s over it, and you’re comfy.” He replies and you nod in response, taking your seats in time for the lecture as your hand was still being held in his.

The feeling of your hand in his made your cheeks heat up at the proximity considering he continued to hold it throughout the entire of your lecture along with the rest of the day. It was something so minimal that you didn’t expect for it to mean a lot to you at all, nor did you think that it was a big action of affection where it was possible to produce butterflies in your stomach.

You felt like you were spiraling even more.

It wasn’t until it was finally at the end of the day that you made it back to your shared apartment that the two of you decided to take a break from the hand holding and crash on the couch with takeout on the table.

“So your secret admirer no longer wants to show up?” Minghao suddenly asks as he eats the general tso chicken that was on his portion of rice, and you hummed in response, taking a bite of the vegetable dumpling that you ordered for ‘balance’ earlier before turning to look at him with a confused look earlier.

“They said that they’d support from the sidelines, but they want to be friends someday if they reveal themselves,” You say after chewing the rest of your food down and let out a frustrated breath until you spoke up once more after taking a sip of your water, “The only thing is… their handwriting looks so familiar and I can’t put my finger on whose handwriting it is.”

He lets out a quiet hum as the two of you continue to eat in the small silence while your mind ponders all the letters that you received from the secret admirer. You knew that they were an art major and that their signature ended with an infinite sign, along with certain things that they always pointed out about you that you never knew about yourself.

They began to sound like they were a part of your close circle, when you thought about it more and wondered who’s handwriting could match the one of your secret admirer. However, your brain could only come up with nothing up until the moment that you were snapped out of your mind with the stinging sensation of Minghao flicking your forehead.

“You’re zoning out again, and it made you look constipated.” He bluntly says with a grin on his face, making you let out a noise in retortion when he suddenly feeds you an eggroll to stop the arguments that were ready to spill out of your mouth.

How to not pretend that your heart was not burning because of your unrequited feelings for him? A challenge that you were willing to take for the next upcoming months that you were yet to discover.

You regret the words that you had said back a couple weeks ago when you thought that you could keep your feelings in control. It was everything that you wanted to bite back, especially since the winter season was now in session and that it was close to the holidays that were yet to arrive.

There were no more gifts from your admirer but rather from Minghao, as he was still pretending to be your fake boyfriend to scare away his stalker. The only thing confusing you was that they never showed up ever since after your Thanksgiving break, making you wonder why Minghao was still keeping up with the act when you knew that he should’ve stopped the fake relationship at the moment.

It all ended up in the cafe that you were at, looking outside to see the snow that was falling down from the sky and watching how couples walked up and down the streets, hand in hand as they were warm with the other’s presence. You wished that yours were that genuine as you struggled to find the right words to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, and that you didn’t want to keep the act going.

“Why can’t I stop myself from falling for you?” You breathe out quietly more towards yourself as you take a sip of your coffee, up until you see one of the workers from behind the bar walk up to your table to slip you a napkin with stuff on it.

“Someone called in and told me to give it to you.” They said and you recognized him to be a classmate of yours, Jun, from your art studies class.

Watching him walk away in silence, you furrowed your eyebrows as you wondered what the note could be when you started to read it. The handwriting was familiar and you were confused as to why it matched the secret admirer’s when it was telling you to meet at the park that was close by to your apartment, making it even more contradicting as to who they really were.

Did they want to meet you now?

Grabbing your jacket, you decided to leave the cafe and go to the park nearby your house like it said to with anticipation in your veins. There was something about the rush that ran through your system that made you want to believe that it could’ve been Minghao, but you were also scared of the idea of it being someone else, since you could’ve bear the idea of rejecting someone else’s feelings; the feeling itself already being unbearable to go through.

After a while, you finally do make it to the park and you take in the beautiful scene of the white snow surrounding you. The coldness of the wind nipped at your skin as you forgot to bring your scarf, but you didn’t mind it as the burning of your heart and cheeks from the thought of meeting your secret admirer was still in your mind.

Until he shows up.

“Minghao? What-”

“Surprised to see me?” He whispers softly, hands in the pockets of his coat when you were finally piecing it together in your head and everything made sense.

“It was you the whole time?! Why didn’t you just confess to me, and let me embarrass myself the whole time?” You asked while letting out a small laugh as you reached one of your legs to playfully kick him when he laughs as well, shrugging in response as you watched the snowflakes fall into his hair.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, since you were my best friend. Besides, I thought that fake dating would’ve been a solution to my stalker problem, which was why I stopped sending you gifts as infinite the moment we started.” He replies and you smiled a bit at the fact that he was being a little too much in this very time that you were standing in front of him.

“So what? You just decide to torture me and make me believe that we were in a fake relationship, so that the both of us can avoid confronting the other about actually dating?” You retort, suddenly feeling the sadness of the missed weeks that you both cou;d’ve actually dated if you’d told your affection towards him sooner.

There was a beat of silence that passed by, in which you could tell that your breaths were becoming one with the other in the moment that you were staring at one another with the snow falling around you. However, it was different as you could tell that there was now a spark that was burning in each of your hearts, ready to become brighter right as he finally asked you the question that you had finally been waiting for him to ask, in which you didn’t hesitate to answer in response to it.

���How about we date for real this time? Second time’s the charm, am I wrong?”

[saphirered]

HIIII! It's me again (Eldritch knight reader) sorry I kinda dipped out but I hope you are having a great day! I was wondering if you could do one last request for that mini series of requests, where Essek finally asks reader on a real date and it's going great (Knight could notice some figures following them *cough* M9+verin *cough*??) there's some flirting/teasing but sadly the date comes to an end and reader walks essek home, they say their goodbyes for the night but not before reader finally kisses Essek and whispers a goodnight!

Hi! Welcome back. Now of course this wouldn't be me if halfway through writing I realised this was turning way too long so it'll be a two-parter again to keep it readable. Hope you don't mind. Any way, here's the first part so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

A long day of disasters with the Nein returning just in time to be thrust into more relentless hours of study with Essek wasn’t exactly how you envisioned to spend your day and luckily for you Essek is a merciful soul, when it comes to you that is. Seeing how battered and bruised you were, and mentally exhausted he refused to let you touch his precious tomes or even scribble a single note on paper. He had even gone as far as making said smaller items disappear into the nothingness. Damn wrist pocket spell. Essek was determined. You needed rest. He’d make sure you got it.

So instead of hours upon hours spent at Essek’s home he opted for staying with you retreating to the upstairs of the Xhorhaus and finding the both of you a comfy spot to spend your time in a more relaxed environment. Essek sits, back against the tree while you lay sprawled across the floor next to his outstretched legs eyes closed as the wizard reads to you. He may not have allowed you to read for yourself as to not overwork yourself but the compromise you convinced him to was agreeable. More than agreeable if you’re honest.

It’s no secret you like spending time together as you do so a lot. You may be a little more affectionate with each other than say for example with Caleb or Jester. It doesn’t go unnoticed Essek likes you, if anything the man’s made it pretty clear and vice versa. Neither of you have just ever acted on it. With everything going on in your lives, how could you? You’re a ragtag adventurer with no allegiance to kingdom or country. He’s the bloody spymaster of the Dynasty. It’s not exactly a conventional prospect of a future, nor is it likely to succeed with the kind of lives you live. Could you really afford that kind of struggle? Maybe, if you were willing to take the risk but lately things have been hectic and this moment of relaxation beneath the tree at the top of this tower is the first moment of peace either of you have known in a long time.

You swear, you’re paying attention. You might still have to reread the whole book again as you’re just entranced by the sound of Essek’s voice. The man could make anything sound interesting. Give him those pages from that Iva lady back at the Chastity’s Nook in Zadash and Essek could make even that sound like a master piece. Though in hindsight, maybe best not as you think he might not be able to get past the first few sentences himself. The cringe.

“Are you still listening?” Essek’s reading voice breaks in favour of the question as he watches you drift off with a smile on your face. He’s almost afraid to ask the question but is unsure if that’s because you’ve grown tired or the subject bores you too much.

“Hm?” You perk up turning your head to the side and looking at the wizard. The exhaustion is written over your face but doesn’t diminish the content smile you present.

“Perhaps that is enough for the day?” Essek suggests closing the book and sits up a little straighter. He places the book by his side as you sit up and go to reach for it. Essek’s quicker and places his hand firmly on top of it and prevents you from taking it. He’s very sure you’d have no trouble retrieving the book if you really wanted to and maybe he’d like you to try, just a little, but you’re tired and need rest. Not fill your mind with pages of knowledge attempting to cram in the words. You’re a good study but even the best of studies cannot combat the banes of exhaustion.

“It is getting late anyway.” Essek says as you roll back and find yourself, head leaning against his thigh, looking up at the drow with a pout as he insinuates he’ll have to leave soon. You catch him off guard but he’s not opposed to the sense of affection and comfort you radiate. Physical affection is rare between the two of you especially since he’s very new to it in such contexts. He’s still getting used to it and he’d be lying if he said it’s unwelcome.

“If you say so.” You stay like this for a few more minutes before the ruckus downstairs pulls you out of your moment and you’re reminded Essek needs to head back to his own home. He still has business to attend to, business he’s been procrastinating in favour of spending more time with you. You sit back up, swing your legs beneath yourself and rise to your feet offering Essek a hand to help him to his feet.

“Essek, do you have a moment.” Caleb calls over as he enters the living space. The drow looks at you as if to ask if you know what this might be about or more like your permission to allow himself to be whisked away by the wizard interrupting your goodbye. You shrug.

“I should probably try and prevent this kitchen fire waiting to happen. I take it Cad’s still out getting groceries?” Caleb nods and you sigh shudder preparing for the oncoming disaster rushing into the kitchen like a valiant hero, albeit a little more domestic than your usual adventures, valiant no less.

A conversation between two wizards in one room and a homemade fluffernutter dismantled in another you reunite with Essek. There he is floating in all his glory, cloak back around his shoulders you see him off. Essek seems a little… nervous? Is that the right word? So you give Caleb a look but he acts all innocent. You know better than to trust that. Nevermind, you’ll have an easier time getting it out of Essek than Caleb if you need to. Caleb sends the others off to their own business persuading them to clean up before Caduceus returns and finds his precious kitchen in disarray or any other state he didn’t leave it in before he left. The firbolg is quite protective of his pride and joy. You lead Essek over to the hall but interpose yourself between him and the door crossing your arms and tapping your foot expectedly.

“So is this where you tell me what you and Caleb talked about or am I going to have to work for it?” The look you give Essek makes him want to spill all the beans right then right there but he wants to do this the right way and not be a blabbering incoherent mess. He has to do this the right way. You deserve that much; if not for the way he feels then simply for every effort you’d put in your actions to do with him.

“It’s to do with you.” Oh? Now you’re curious. “I asked Caleb for some advise.” What in the worlds would he need to go to Caleb for to get advise on to do with you? Essek’s not one to admit lacking either skill or knowledge when it’s about people and even less so to confide in another in such a way because by all means, his little side bar with with the redhead was anything but an interrogation to get information about character, motives and possible leverage like he would have navigated a political encounter.

“And what, pray tell could Caleb be lecturing you on?” You grin with he gentle stroke at Essek’s ego. If you know one thing, sweet-talking will get you everywhere with this man. Not that you’d minded. Not that you were lying. You’d never lie about such things. But you’re also not against using your opinions to gently persuade the drow in revealing what he’s hiding.

“Matters of heart. It seems I am at a disadvantage when expressing them to the subject of my affections.” Essek admits and you watch the skin of his cheeks to become a darker shade of purple. Damn, this is not going the way he envisioned it. Like a rock being tossed into the elemental plane of water, sinking into that eternal ocean.

“Oh really, now? It seems to me you’re doing perfectly fine.” Essek laughs awkwardly and looks to the floor to gather his bearings but when he feels your hand rise to his cheek and lift his gaze to look you in the eye, when you step in a little closer to him. He knows you’re teasing, or at least partially teasing. He also knows best to rip the bandaid off quickly and hope you’ll be merciful in your answer.

“I was wondering if you’d join me on an outing, tomorrow if it suits you?” Essek feels the words leave his lips. He doesn’t blurt them out like some lovesick fool and is thankful for that at least.

“Of course, will we be going to the library again? Or another shopping trip? Need me to carry more of those heavy papers again? Please can we do this time without any assassins sent to kill you? I think we could both do with a break for once.” You laugh and it becomes quite clear to Essek his phrasing might have been a little off so he’ll have to correct himself. Great. Just what he needs. Make this more awkward and difficult for himself than it already is. Maybe he would have been better off blurting out the words like a lovesick fool.

“What I had in mind would be more like a planned outing, a break from our usual lives and away from the responsibilities we both carry.” Essek clarifies and the copper drops for you.

“Essek, are you asking me to go on a date with you?” Yes. Yes. For the love of the gods, the Luxon and all that is sacred thank you for speaking the words correctly instead of leaving him to go in circles until he can’t anymore and dies from embarrassment. Why does he always turn into a mess when it comes to you? Because he likes you, a lot, maybe even more than just like. Definitely more than just that.

“That is exactly what I have been attempting and failing to convey, yes.” He admits ashamed. Your laugh makes for a good consolation though, no matter your answer. Up until now the possibility of your answer whichever outcome, had never been a bother to him as he never really gave asking you a thought, for his own sake or this may just have gone much worse with his tendency to overthink. In suspense he awaits. Not even the powers of dunamis at his fingertips could make the passage of time before your answer feel like less when in reality you barely missed a beat.

“Of course. I’d love nothing more.” You caress his cheek. Your smile grows from amusement to joy and Essek couldn’t be happier. He felt himself slipping into a smile of his own. Essek let himself go in that joy and relief you accepted rather than the stress of the actual date tomorrow. He’ll worry about that one later.

[cuteboyfromtokyo]

ushijima, 8:14pm

"Is that good?" you ask quietly.

"Y-yeah, can you push a little harder, please," you hear Ushijima's muffled reply. You follow your boyfriend's instruction and apply a little more pressure to his shoulder blades.

Shiratorizawa's gym is quiet and empty at the late hour of 8pm. The training ended a little over two hours ago, and everyone left shortly after, only leaving Ushijima and you behind. Even Goshiki, poor little child, got too tired to stay after practice and left with Shirabu, waving both of you goodbye.

"I'll stay a little longer, I feel like my serves were off today," your boyfriend informed you, once the gym grew quiet. He handed you your backpack that you threw on a bench when you came to the practice. You didn't even bother telling him his serves were great - he never listened, and today wouldn't be any different. So you just nodded and cuffed your sleeves.

"I'll help you clean up," you said, taking the backpack from his hands and putting it back on the bench. You thanked yourself for completing the chemistry homework that's due tomorrow, in advance, and sent your mom a text saying you'll be coming home later. Wakatoshi nodded slightly, a quiet "Thanks" leaving his lips with a little, barely noticeable smile.

And now here you are, helping him with the post-practice stretch, pushing his back while he's sitting with his legs sprawled out, trying to reach as far as possible with his fingertips. Over the past two hours he practiced probably thousands of serves, spikes and receives ("Receives? You don't usually receive during the games, do you?" you asked, unsure. A simple response followed, sweeping all you further questions away: "I'm the ace, after all. I have to make sure I do my best at everything for my team". A little after a few seconds in silence he added "Besides, Goshiki seems to be trying to overtake me by his receives. I don't want to embarrass myself," looking away, slightly shy. You couldn't help but to chuckle).

"You're too gentle, y/n," he notices, laughing a little.

"I don't wanna hurt you," you whine, shifting in your knees a little to get better access. "You've worked so hard, what if I push you too much and you end up spraining your leg or something," you mumble in your excuse.

Ushijima laughs quietly again. "You won't hurt me. I'll tell you if it's too much."

"Okay," you sigh. You try again, this time pushing him harder, still being cautious. You get a satisfied grunt in response, and after you let him relax for a couple seconds, you go for the same amount of pressure. It requires you to use, probably, the entire strength of your upper body, but your boyfriend seems to be enjoying that, so you keep going.

"Yeah, like that," you hear his muffled voice, and you go for a couple final pushes before letting him rest.

"Are you sure that's not enough for today?" you whine again, moving your hands to hug him around his neck, and rest your chin on your arm, your cheek pressing against his. He chuckles quietly, and nods slightly.

"This might be enough for today," he brings up his hand to gently stroke your arm, and sighs deeply.

You think that a little cuddle session should be a good reward for his hard work, so you get comfy, shifting your position. Without unlocking your arms, you reposition your legs, sitting on your butt instead of your knees and circle your legs around his waist to basically lock him in place so he doesn't get a chance to change his mind and practice more. Wakatoshi rests his spare hand on your thigh, stroking the skin covered by thin fabric of your tights.

"I'm sorry for keeping you here for so long," he apologizes, his voice affected by heavy breathing.

You hum disagreeingly in response. "Don't apologize. I decided to stay with you, it's okay. I don't think I could have better time alone than with you anyway. We don't really get too much time just for ourselves, so I'm happy I got to spend two extra hours with you," you say, almost whispering, and smooch his cheek a couple times, reassuring him. A small smile appears on his face, as he nods again.

"Alright then. I'm happy to spend time with you, too. Thank you for helping me" he squeezes your forearm lightly and presses a light kiss to the skin. You melt at the touch and hug him a little tighter.

"We should get going soon. Your mom will get nervous," he noted, trying to move and stand up.

"Nooo, wait," you whine, pulling him back, pressing his back into your chest. "Just a couple more minutes, when's the last time we cuddled like that?"

Ushijima doesn't protest, instead relaxing into your grip and leaning back onto you. You rock side to side a little, and nuzzle your nose into his neck. He smells like the mix of sweat, deodorant and princess shampoo you bought him as a joke, and, as gross as it is, you find the scent comforting. 

He rests his head against your shoulder, eyes closed, breathing slowly, just as if sleeping. You observe the features of his tired face, the blush covering his cheeks and the tip of his nose, his fluttering eyelashes, the slightly chapped lips, and can't hold back the affection, so you press a kiss to his exposed neck. Another smile finds its way to his face, and he opens his eyes, looking at you with all the world's tenderness. You smile back at him, and he leans forward, pressing an ever so soft kiss to your lips.

You wish you could stay like that forever, tightly hugging your sweaty 6 foot 2 boyfriend, peppering his entire face with kisses and him squeezing your thighs, but your mom calls you for the third time this evening, not taking any of your excuses and ordering you to come back home as soon as humanly possible. You whine, hanging up, you boyfriend laughs, watching you complain like a child, and promises to take you on a date this weekend to spend another few hours by your side.

[clarkslibrary]

𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Pairing: steve rogers x OFC (Juniper Loughty), mild OMC (Judah) x OFC (Juniper)

Word Count: 2,849

Warnings: ANGST, alcohol, breakups, swearing, jealous steve, unrequited love, heavy nicknames,nat and bucky being right for 10 mins straight, angst crashing nat’s bday

Author’s Note: Hi lovelies! This is first fic (vv nervous) and i was inspired by @honeysucklesteve ‘s 4K writing challenge💕 let me know if any warnings need to be added and feel free to leave feedback! [collage was made by me and fic was inspired by In and Out of Love ; by Oh Wonder] ALSO I TRIED PUTTING A READ MORE TAB AND DUMBLR WONT ACCEPT IT

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“That’s the last one, June Bug.” Nat wrapped her in a hug.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” She asks and scans Jupiter's features for doubt.

“Yeah, eventually. I’ve done it before,” Juniper says with a sigh. “Just never thought it would be like this.”

“Me either, kiddo.”

The first night was the worst and all she could do was cry. Memories carved at her until all that was left was a quivering girl.

Juniper tries to remember where it all went wrong. Where did it all break? Surrounded by her belongings, she felt truly homeless. It was as if her home had been ripped from her hands.

The sun pulls her from the floor. It’s bright beams shining through the brownstone’s windows. It gave her the courage to stand up and slowly unpack. She thought that sifting through her things beforehand was hard but now the absence hit harder.

His coffee mug.

She always hated that blue, chipped mug; his first gift from Natasha, when he came out of the ice. The ceramic was all scuffed and it had permanent coffee rings on the inside. Now, she would give anything to hold it in her hands. Feel the warmth of his black coffee, two sugars.

Slowly, her books filled the shelves and her clothes spilled into the closet. The cozy bedding she had once loved, looked wrong.

“I can’t do this.” Juniper’s face falls into her hands.

Her breakdown is cut short by a curt knock. The air in her lungs locks up. What if it's him? Did he change his mind?

She quickly smoothed her hair, shaking it out, and wiped away the tears.

“Coming!” Her voice sounded clear despite the war of screams it faced hours earlier.

Her hands shook, reaching for the knob but she blew out a breath and swung open the door.

“Hey, I’m from next door and saw you moving in. Just wanted to introduce myself.”

Juniper shoved the disappointment away and took in the man before her. His dark hair was curly, falling across his forehead leading to bright blue eyes speckled with brown.

“Hi, I’m Juniper.” She stuck out her hand and he took it with a soft grip.

“Judah,” he smiles and she forces a tight one back. “You okay?”

She flinches at the question and scolds herself for it.

“Yeah, just stressed from unpacking and the move.” Juniper takes back her hand and waves it nonchalantly.

“You sure? I can always help if you want.”

“Help?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone.

“Help you unpack? Looks like you had a lot of boxes but I don’t wanna be too forward.” He holds his hands up in innocence.

Juniper pulled her lip between her teeth looking back at the boxes still piled in her foyer then back to Judah. He looked muscular enough. His worn shirt did little to hide the contours of his shoulders and arms.

“Uh, I think I could use some help actually.”

She stepped back opening the door enough so he could slip in.

“Don’t mind the mess,” she mumbled, slipping past him to sweep tissues from last night into her arms.

“Don’t worry about it.” He flashes her a smile and she weakly nods. “You have a nice unit. The setup is a little different than mine but mostly the same.”

She didn’t want small talk. She wanted to be busy.

“Do you wanna start over here?” She asks and he turns to meet her stare.

“Uh, yeah sure.”

“These two need to go upstairs, the second door on the right.”

“Gotcha.” he flashes her a wink before squatting and lifting the boxes like they were nothing.

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Judah seemed to pick up on the fact she didn’t wanna talk. Juniper directed and he did it; occasionally cracking jokes about her taste in tourist knickknacks.

“Hey, I’m gonna order some pizza. That's good with you?” She asks him when the sun starts to sink.

“Sounds delicious,” he quips, making himself comfortable on the velvet couch.

“Comfy?” She teases and he sighs leaning back even further, spreading his legs taking up half the couch.

He was huge standing and even bigger sprawled out like a baby.

“The comfiest.”

After calling in the pizza she flopped next to him occupying the other half of the couch.

“So, what made you move?”

The question makes her raise up and look at him. He still has his eyes closed and is stretched out.

“It’s complicated,” she blurts and he cracks open one eye at her.

“I’m listening,” he says softly.

“I got broken up with.” The words sound foreign and they sting even worse. “Uh, we had been together a year ago yesterday. Well, it would have been a year.”

“Their loss.”

The words make her snort in disbelief.

“So untrue but thanks for the pity.”

Judah sits up and stretches before pivoting his body towards her.

“Look, you are a catch. I wouldn’t have spent a whole day helping a stranger unpack unless I felt they deserved it.”

“You admit that you did this to get in my pants?” She jokes and he shrugs.

“Wasn’t a part of the plans but I do enjoy some spontaneity.” The drop in voice made a chill run across her skin.

“Oh.”

A rough laugh leaves his chest and his hand catches hers.

“Listen, whoever this person was, obviously didn’t see your worth. Sometimes things don’t work out and it's for the best.” He pauses for a beat. “Besides, how would I have ever met you, Berry.”

“Berry?” She asks with a quirked brow.

“Like Juniper berry.”

“That’s a new one,” she says with a smile. “I like it.”

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6 Months Later

“Jude, c'mon share,” Juniper whined, reaching for the pizza slice.

She was currently climbing over the behemoth of a man trying to get a bite.

“You already had your bite,” he protested twisting away from her on the couch.

A determined look settled on her face.

“Oh no, not that look.” Judah stretched trying to wiggle away but she was already on top of him.

Luckily they were at his house because her couch would have never handled this roughhousing. Her knees landed on either side of his waist and she pressed his chest down with one hand, reaching with the other.

“Berry, this is my slice!”

“Not for much longer,” she says with a grin. She grabs the slice and takes a bite. “Mmmm,” she moans and Judah stills under her.

“That good?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums around the bite and then offers him one.

“You go ahead, Berry.” He smiles and his hands land on her hips.

“Jude, you’re the best.” She juts out her lip giving him the sweetest pout.

He could feel the warmth of her skin on his forearms, her thighs exposed by her sleep shorts and her well-worn shirt slipped down the smooth column of her neck onto her shoulder.

No matter what time of day she looked breathtaking. Dark ebony hair, crystal clear eyes that looked like starlight. He wanted to tell her these things but when they met she was still so broken.

“I was gonna ask you a favor actually,” she mutters, putting the slice back over into the empty box.

“Whatcha need?” He thumbs rubbed smooth circles on her thighs and she steadied herself with her hands on his chest.

“There is this party coming up. My friend Natasha’s birthday and I really wanna go but not alone.”

“The scary one?”

Juniper laughs and shakes her head yes.

“Yeah, the scary one. Anyway, would you wanna be my date?” She rushes the last couple of words thinking her heart might explode.

“Your date?” Judah asks and she cringes.

“Never mind, I knew I shouldn't have asked because now things are-“ her words are cut off by him pulling her into a tight hug

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She murmurs pressed against his chest.

“Hell yeah,” he grins, pressing a kiss to her hair.

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Steve wasn’t expecting to see her and damn did she look good. The way his heart flitted to his stomach and made him want to hurl; it surprised him. Junie was glowing. Her hair was just the way he liked it, up in the front exposing her jawline and plump lips. It cascades down her back as silk catching gleams of light.

She hadn’t even seen him yet and he could make out the faint scrunch of her nose when she hugged Sam, laughing.

He missed her.

The rough sting of reality pierced him when an arm snakes around her waist pulling her close.

He didn’t recognize the guy and frankly could care less who he was. All he wanted to do right now was rip his hands off of his Junie. Juniper smiled up at him and leaned into his touch.

Steve didn’t even know the glass in his hand had shattered until her eyes snapped to meet his. The flash of realization and the immediate hard gaze cut him worse than any broken glass.

“C’mon let’s get some air punk.”

Bucky slings his arm around Steve’s shoulder steering him towards the balcony. Steve’s shaking the scotch from his hand and wiping it on his jeans when the door slides shut.

“Dammit.” He grits out and Bucky watches as he slams his palms against the railing. “Do you know who he is?”

“Steve,” Bucky starts but Steve cuts him off.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t think that’s for the best.”

“Awh, c’mon cut the bullshit.”

“He is her date.”

The confirmation makes him drop his head looking at the busy street below.

“His name’s Judah. She introduced me earlier while you were between eye-fucking her and murdering him.”

Steve scoffs and Bucky lets out a dry laugh.

“You asked me for the truth pal.”

“Is she,” he pauses, “happy?”

“Seems to be.”

Steve hums to himself and feels the ache settle in his chest. She was happy without him. It had been 6 months and he still couldn’t be bothered to take her body wash out of his shower. He’d hate to admit when he got really bad and the missions stopped, he sat with water pouring, and the cap popped open. Now and then he’d feel like she was there. That he would open his eyes and see her like out of a movie.

“Why are you getting so upset about this? You broke up with her.” Bucky’s words are harsh but true.

“I did it for her safety.”

“Bullshit, if that were the truth she would still live in the compound surrounded by people to keep her safe.”

He stews in the silence and Bucky grips his shoulder.

“To be as old as you are, you sure can be an idiot.”

A humorless laugh leaves Steve and he drops his head, wondering what it would be like if he was less of an idiot.

˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Juniper sipped her drink as Nat slid into the barstool next to her.

“Hey,” She says grinning at her.

“Hi, birthday girl!” Junie abandons her drink pulling Nat into a tight hug. “Feels like it’s been forever since I have seen you.”

“Probably, because you have a hunk keeping you company.”

Juniper’s face flushed and Nat nudged her with a grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She says taking a sip of her drink.

“Seriously, though I’m happy for you.”

Nat watches as Juniper nods muttering a thank you.

“Now, what’s on your mind June Bug?”

“Nothing,” She says, shooting her friend a quick smile.

Natasha quirks a brow at her and watches as Juniper’s eyes flit to the balcony where Steve had left with Bucky.

“He has been a mess too.”

Juniper’s heart stutters not expecting to hear those words.

“I don’t know why he is such an idiot but he does still love,” Nat starts but she is cut off.

“I can’t hear this right now.” Juniper downs her drink and slides it back to the bartender. “Sorry, I need a minute.”

The party is booming; her eyes scan the crowd for Judah but he is nowhere to be found. Taking deep measured breaths her legs carry her down the hall to the elevators.

“Stop freaking out,” She mutters to herself.

“Are you okay?”

The familiar voice makes her jump and squeezes her eyes shut. If only she could will him away.

“Go away.”

“Are you okay? I am not leaving you here like this, Junie.” Steve’s voice was even and calm.

“That’s absolutely rich coming from you,” She grits out pressing the elevator button. “Why are you here? Huh? Come to laugh at what a mess I am.”

“What?” Steve asks his brow furrowing with confusion. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Just forget it,” Juniper says as the elevator door opens with a ding. “Have a good night, Rogers.”

“Wait, just a second.”

She escapes into the elevator but his boot wedges into the closing doors. Up close she can see the creases of his worry and the storm brewing in the blue of his eyes. His hair messy; disheveled by his raking fingers she guesses.

“Talk to me.” His gaze burns into her.

Even with the frown on her face, she was gorgeous. The lighting of the party didn’t do her justice. Here he saw the peach dusting her cheeks and the shine of her ruby lips.

“Why should I?” Her eyebrows pinch together and he doesn’t respond. “You broke up with me, Steve.”

“I only wanted to keep you safe,” He says letting the doors close and essentially forcing them in proximity. “That has always been my priority.”

“Safe? Did you forget I had worked alongside you for three years? I am capable of guarding my own safety.” She reaches for the buttons but his hand catches her wrist.

“When things get bad, all I can think about is you. All I want is to see you, talk to you,” He says softly. “Sometimes, I still can hear you. Singing that awful song in the shower.” A sad smile flits across his lips. “I dream about you. Dream that I’ll wake up and you’ll be there.”

“Steve,” She protests and he pulls her closer.

“I think about kissing you.” His touch feels like an old habit she could never shake. “Think about laying you down and kissing every inch of you. God, you’re gorgeous. You know that, right?”

Juniper can see his tongue pressing against his bottom lip and the drag of it across his teeth. Her stomach buzzes. Months ago she would have pulled him into herself like so many times before; but now, her skin crawls.

Why was he doing this now?

“Steve.” She pulls her wrist from his grasp. “I have someone now. He wants me.”

Steve recoils at her words and clenches his fist.

“It’s time for you to move on.” She can see the anger and confusion lacing his features. “It’s not easy, trust me. It’s painful and feels like the worst kind of betrayal.”

“I love you.”

His words make her freeze, curdling the contents of her stomach and making her tongue heavy with unspoken words.

“Steve,” She whispers and she cradles his cheek for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Juniper presses the open door button and escapes him taking a gracious gasp of air.

˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜˜”*°•.˜”*°• 🖤 •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Judah finds her coming back into the party.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” He says and frowns when he sees the tears clouding her eyes. “Berry, what’s wrong?”

“I just, I,” She gasps trying to catch her breath.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.” Judah pulls her into him, wrapping his arms around her small form. “Let’s get you home.”

Juniper wanted so desperately to feel better at those words but her home wasn’t a place.

It is a person.

Just some tags, pls don’t feel pressure to read 🖤

@speechlessxx @mypoisonedvine @buckycuddlebuddy @nsfwsebbie @worksby-d @redgillan @whitestarbucky @cloudystevie

[obeyme-darling]

In Control

[Diavolo x Shy!Fem!MC x Lucifer]

Part 2 of [Proposition]

Summary: Lucifer now has you and Diavolo back in his room, and he is completely in control of the entire situation.

Warnings: 18+!! Unprotected sex, slight choking, threesomes, oral sex (female receiving), Lucifer being a bossy bitch. (I’m truly trying to learn what things to tag again, if you would like to/need to, please ask me to tag something, I definitely can!!)

Words: 2,600+

A/N: I LOVE LUCIFER!! I really thought I was a Diavolo bitch but i want Lucifer to top me :) Also! I used a prompt from [this list] here! (Highkey wanna make this a series! Just MC, Dia, and Luci all living their best lvies together sdjghsgs) ~Admin Doe

Getting to Lucifer's room was going to be a feat in itself. You had to clean up enough to get dressed.and then try to nonchalantly make your way to his room, with Diavolo in tow, and somehow make it not look suspicious at all.

Lucifer had left before the two of you, as to not make it look too weird. All three of you walking to his room might have looked horrible for everyone involved. Diavolo had not minded, he hadn’t seemed to have thought about how obvious it would be to the other students if you, the human, were just out and about with both Lucifer and Diavolo, heading to his room of all places.

“That was so hot,” Diavolo kissed you on your forehead and helped you get dressed.

“So,” You bit the inside of your lip as you tried to straighten your shirt out before tucking it in, “you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely, my dear,” Diavolo pulled you towards him and opened his office door, walking out with you under his arm. If anyone was unsure as to what your stance was with the Prince, they now knew for sure. “You and Lucifer, my absolute two favorite people- other than Barbatos, but I don’t think I wanna fuck him- what more could I ask for?”

You relaxed under his touch and huddled as close as you could to him, your hands in your pockets and your head leaning on his shoulder. Once you reached the house you felt your stomach twisting, you knew whatever was about to happen was going to be better than you had ever dreamt of.

You wrapped one of your arms around Diavolo’s waist and hugged him close. You were trying to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It was really real.

Lucifer’s room was in sight, you were so fucking close. No one was in sight surprisingly. Lucifer’s brothers absolutely adored you, so you had no intention of seeing any of them, not while on this mission.

“Hey, MC~”

“Oh fuck.”

Asmodeus called for you. You wanted to grab Diavolo’s hand and run for Lucifer’s room. Instead, Diavolo turned the both of you around and smiled at the other demon.

“What are you doing?!” He was eager to see you, “Especially with Diavolo~”

Your face was beginning to heat up again. Your ears burned and your eyes were wide, a baby doe stuck in the middle of the road, a car coming for you full speed ahead. Asmodeus let out this amused chuckle as Diavolo pulled you closer in hopes of calming you down.

“We needed to see Lucifer.”

You wanted to throttle the Prince. You sucked in air through your nose and closed your eyes momentarily, before composing yourself and looking at Asmodeus with as much confidence you could muster.

“We have important business to take care of.”

Asmodeus let out another laugh, softer, quieter; as if he was trying to be considerate of your feelings. He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t say anything. Yet.

“Since you’re so busy, I’ll let you go. For now.” Asmodeus walked by you and stopped, to whisper in your ear, “After you get done fucking them, please come meet me in my room.” He winked at you.

‘Well fuck, he knows.’ You pouted. Diavolo snorted, obviously hearing what the other demon had whispered to you. Diavolo turned you back around and you watched Asmo walk away, very clearly smug about what he had just done.

“What was that about?”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, “He’s been asking me about us since we started uh, dating.”

“Asking what?”

You reached Lucifer’s room and gently knocked on the door, “He wants to- He ‘needs’ to know how big your dick is.”

Diavolo’s eyes went wide and he blinked in surprise. He immediately grew curious. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I tried to avoid all conversations about it, now I’m sort of just fucked!”

Lucifer opened the door, wearing more casual clothes. No shirt, baggy sweatpants, dick print visible and all. For a moment you started to thank the lord, but figured that would be wildly inappropriate. You were practically pulled into the room, Diavolo walking in behind you and shutting the door, locking it for extra measure.

“Did one of my brothers see you?”

“Yea, Asmo saw me. He, um, kinad figured out-”

“Hm, I wondered what made him realize, your wrinkled shirt,” he untucked it, as he spoke, “the disheveled hair,” he moved closer to you, his lips pressing against your earlobe, “the cum that had dripped down your thighs.”

You balled your fists, ‘I’m about to beat this bitch up.’ Your legs tensed and your left knee pressed against your right thigh, your legs closing tight. You and Diavolo had cleaned you up as best as possible! There had been nothing left on your skin, and yet, here Lucifer was, mocking your desperate, needy ass.

He bit down on your earlobe before pulling back and examining you. Your pout and furrowed brows, your balled fists, how tense your legs were. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

“Fuck you!”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. You had only ever spoken that way to Mammon, or Asmodeus. But now here you were, covering your mouth and looking at Lucifer in horror. You just thought you were some baby deer earlier. You were in that position again, but had no one to pull you from the road. And Lucifer was about to run your ass over.

“On the bed.”

You nodded, not even caring to apologize. You thought that maybe if you didn’t apologize the punishment would be more... Fun.

“Take off your underwear, hike up your skirt.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and did as you were told. Lucifer looked to Diavolo, who was eagerly waiting for his turn to fuck you up. It was crazy to think about; Diavolo could boss Lucifer around, but there he stood, awaiting instruction from the demon. Lucifer motioned for Diavolo to approach you and so he did.

“Tongue fuck her.”

Diavolo grinned wider than you had ever seen. He absolutely adored eating you out, as much as he loved getting a bowjob, which he loved a lot. Diavolo parted your legs, with such care and handled you as if you were some beautiful glass ornament, breakable at the slightest slip up.

You looked over at Lucifer, keeping an eye on what he was doing. He sat in a chair, legs crossed and hands folded. He seemed to be absolutely in love with the fact he was the one in complete control.

Diavolo’s tongue pressed to your inner thigh, his large hands holding your outer thighs and keeping you steady. He kissed up your thigh, and once he reached your pussy, he dove in completely.

“Still so wet,” His voice was muffled as his tongue licked stripes up your pussy. His tongue swirled around your clit and you balled Lucifer’s sheets in your hands. You moaned loudly and bucked into Diavolo’s mouth.

Diavolo was skilled, very skilled with his tongue. He always left you a mess after he was finished with you. In that moment though, it was pure fucking bliss, more so than usual. You were so sensitive from already being destroyed by Lucifer. You sucked in air and arched your back, eyes screwed shut from the euphoria.

“Diavolo-”

Lucifer paused, letting Diavolo bring you to the edge. And then he spoke.

“Don’t let her cum.”

Diavolo licked a stripe up your pussy and pulled back. Your eyes snapped open and you looked at Lucifer in anger. He was still just sitting there, not even looking like he was thinking about touching himself.

“What?”

“Only good girls get to cum.”

Diavolo looked at you, a smirk creeping onto his face. He had an idea. You were scared. Diavolo agreed with Lucifer, and held you steady. You wiggled slightly under his grasp, thinking about just finishing really quickly yourself.

Diavolo dipped back down to your cunt and began to slowly torture you with his tongue. Waves of euphoria hit again and you hoped that Lucifer would be so kind as to let you orgasm. Your breathing hitched and you were almost gulping for air.

That happened two more times. Lucifer would order Diavolo to stop, and the prince would quit immediately. But he was getting more smug each time. ‘Okay, I’m about to beat two btiches up.’ “Please!” You begged, breathless. “I’ll be the so well behaved, please let me-”

“Stop, Diavolo.”

This time, Diavolo did not stop. His tongue pressed into you and his thumb circled around your clit. You arched into his mouth and quickly grabbed a pillow to scream into. Diavolo did not stop lapping you up. You were a shaking mess and you were pulling at Lucifer’s comforter.

“Diavolo...” Lucifer stood up. “That is not what I asked you to do...”

“Oh, damn, sorry.” Diavolo shrugged. “I thought her begging was pretty hot, couldn’t leave my baby girl hanging like that.”

Butterflies filled your stomach. He was truly one of your favorite people ever. Lucifer did not share that same thought though.

“Okay, MC,” Lucifer looked at you, sprawled out on the bed, shirt ruffled, skirt pulled up, and pussy out., “I think some rest would be the best for you right now. I’m going to take care of this brat.”

You lied on the bed, eyes half lidded and breathing ragged. You blew out air and watched the ceiling fan momentarily. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until you were sprawled out on Lucifer’s comfy bed. You shut your eyes and began to doze off. You were in and out, until you heard a small whimper from Diavolo.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked over near the other side of Lucifer’s room. Diavolo was bent over Lucifer’s desk, panting, while Lucifer held his throat and pounded into him. You noticed the loud, undeniable sound of flesh slapping against each other and sucked in air.

‘Fuck, I must have really hit my head hard...’ You rubbed your eyes. Diavolo was jerking himself off as Lucifer easily took him from behind. Lucifer was thoroughly enjoying this position of power, and his pride was very much so turning you on. You quickly pulled your skirt off and kicked it across the room. Your hands moved to your pussy and you began touching yourself. You were still so sensitive from everything you had already handled and you let out a whimper as you pressed against your clit.

“Fuck.” Diavolo spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” Lucifer’s voice was low and very, very sexy.

Diavolo came in his own hand, and you watched in excitement as Lucifer’s grip tightened on Diavolo’s throat and your hips rolled into your own hand. You were a mess, causing Lucifer to turn and look at you, still fucking Diaovlo.

Lucifer’s pace quickened before he came. His eyes locked onto yours and he was grunting as he choked Diavolo. He pulled out from Diavolo and wrapped his hand around his cock,finishing in his own hand as well.

Your movements were slower than you would have liked, but you were worn out from everything. You watched as Lucifer turned towards you, and the way his red eyes bored into yours caused you to quickly begin to reach your climax. You had not realized how much someone watching you turned you on.

You let out a loud cry and your mouth fell open. You continued rolling into your own hands as you orgasmed.

“Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

You didn't answer. You couldn’t. You just nodded at him. He walked towards the bed and your stomach turned with excitement. Lucifer ‘tsk’d you and crawled up behind you on the bed, resting on his knees. He pulled you in between his legs and you gulped.

“We’ve had our fun, why not let Diavolo fuck you? Would you like that?”

Lucifer bit your neck and you whined. You nodded and looked towards Diavolo. He was still composing himself it seemed, but he looked ready to go another round.

“You have too much stamina.”

“Are you too tired? We can stop.” Diavolo looked you over with concern.

“Oh, no, no,” you shook your head, “this is very enjoyable.”

Diavolo perked up. You noticed he was hard, again, already. Your pussy throbbed for him. He walked towards the bed and Lucifer kept you in one spot. He really couldn’t let go of that control. You liked that. Seeing Diavolo so submissive and even ignoring what Lucifer had ordered, it was thrilling.

Lucifer grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, and then pulled your legs wide ass open. You were suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you had ever felt before. Realization hit that you were at the whim of two very powerful demons and heat began to pool into your stomach.

“Keep your legs open, or you’ll be punished.”

You nodded and watched as Diavolo began to position himself over you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day...”

Diavolo pushed into you, stretching you open. You let out a whine as he gave an experimental thrust. Diavolo had fucked you a handful of times already, but each time he made sure you were ready for him. He knew he was better than humans in the dick department, and did not want to hurt you in any way.

Your legs tensed and almost closed. Lucifer was there to keep them pried open though. His tongue clicked at you and your hands grabbed the sheets beside you, “MC, do I need to make myself more clear?’

You shook your head. Diavolo, still acting as if Lucifer was not even around, began to thrust harder into you. Everything in you wanted to wrap your legs around Diavolo and hold him as close to you as possible, but there was no way you were breaking out of Lucifer’s grip. You were definitely going to bruise.

Your head rolled back and hit Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer bent down and pressed his lips against your shoulder, biting and sucking on the skin. You were being reduced to a crying, moaning mess and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Taking my cock so well,” Diavolo moaned, “Such a good girl.”

The praise sent you over the edge. You let out a scream, cumming as Diavolo thrusted in and out of you. Diavolo didn’t stop though. One he came, he kept thrusting. You let out a cry as one of  Lucifer’s hands traveled to your pussy and began to stimulate your clit.

Diavolo pulled out and looked at the cum dripping from your pussy and down your thighs. As he was admiring his work, Lucifer was doing his best to overstimulate you. Tears pricked your eyes and your hips kept rolling into Lucifer’s touch.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, “Lucifer please-”

Another orgasm hit, and tears rolled down your cheeks. Your back arched and moans fell from your lips.

‘You really are a good girl,” Lucifer pulled his fingers from your pussy and placed them in your mouth. You began to suck on his fingers, instinctively, and felt your body relaxing into his.

“Damn,” Diavolo was sprawled out beside you and Lucifer, “baby, I’m so glad you brought this up.”

Lucifer lied you down and rested beside you, leaving you in the middle of the two. You looked up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thinking about everything that had just happened.

“Are you alright, MC?” Lucifer asked, his tone way different than usual, he sounded caring and concerned.

“Peachy~” You sighed out. “Um, hey?”

“Yes?” Diavolo and Lucifer spoke at the same time.

“Can we do this again sometime?”

[jobean12-blog]

You're one of my favorite writers on this site and my first asking for a request 🙈. Based off what's going on with Seb and the real estate shit... Could I request one where Bucky and y/n are newly dating and he invites her over to his house but days later he's informed his address has been leaked online and immediately thinks y/n did it. They argue and don't speak for days (but miss each other so much) and then he's told a stalker went far and wide to find it and just some make-up loveliness?♥️

Trust in Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,454

Summary: Bucky invites you over to his place for the first time, you love his place and being there with him, but then he gets some crazy news and it upsets you both, however, it all works out just fine! HAPPY ENDING! 

Author’s Note: Hello my sweet friend! I want to thank you so much for your kind words and also for your patience with this. I know it’s been a few months and I apologize for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this and that you are doing well! Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: soft fluff, implied sexy times, sweet and sassy Bucky, angst in the middle but it isn’t too bad, Bucky gets mad and the reader too but it all works out and he fixes it and happy endings! YAY! 

Bucky walks around his apartment and runs his hand through his hair, checking everything over for the 100th time. Glancing at his phone he sees he has just enough time to shower before you arrive. This is the first time you’re coming over to his place and he’s both excited and nervous. He wants you to feel comfortable and happy while you’re there.

Your soft knock has Bucky rushing to the door, wiping his hands on his jeans before letting out a breath and opening it up. “Hey doll face. Come on in.” You walk through and put down your bag, jumping into his open arms. “Hi baby.” Before you can get a look around, he kisses you, effectively ending all thoughts and conversation.

The next thing you know you’re on the couch, his thigh pressed between your legs and his hand up your shirt. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he purrs against your lips, trailing them down your neck. You grasp his hair between your fingers and pull his face up to yours. “Me too, think I could get a tour before we break in the couch.”

He smirks, pushing his thigh harder and making you gasp. “Bucky,” you playfully warn. “My house, my rules baby girl.” You grin, easily giving in and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. You win. But I get to pick where we order dinner from.” He nods, brushing his fingertips over the lace of your bra before ending any further arguments.

You’re sprawled out between Bucky and the back of the couch, your head resting on his chest as you dance your fingers over his abs and look around the room. “You have so many books. I love it! And this couch is pretty comfy!” His hands mindlessly comb through your hair and down your bare shoulder. “Just wait until you try the bed!”

When you finally get yourselves dressed and off the couch Bucky gives you the official tour and you’re already in love with the space. It reminds you so much of him. It’s warm and inviting, neat and cozy. “I’ve only been here a couple hours and I already love it!” You say the words and rest your head on his chest, giggling when your stomach grumbles. “I’m so glad doll. Now, let’s order dinner!”

The rest of your evening with Bucky is perfect. You eat yummy food and try to get through a movie before he hauls you to his bed. After breaking that in properly you sleep peacefully in his arms. The next morning arrives too quickly and he reluctantly lets you go so you can do laundry and prepare for the work week.

It goes by slowly and you and Bucky text and talk every day, constantly looking forward to seeing each other again. But when Thursday rolls around and you never get a good morning message from him you know something is wrong. Frowning at your phone you see that’s it’s almost lunch time, so you decide to check in. ‘Hey baby, missed you this morning. Hope you’re doing great and having a good day.’ You try desperately not to check your phone every 5 seconds, waiting for the text message alert.

It doesn’t come until the afternoon, his reply making your heart sink, ‘hey, not a great day, need to talk to you. Can I come by after work?’ You immediately answer and tell him of course and you hope everything is ok.  You try to get through the rest of day and push back thoughts that he is going to tell you something awful later.

When you finally make it home your stomach is in knots and you have a headache, pacing your apartment and waiting for him to get there. His knock is hard, and it startles you from your self-torment. You rush to the door and swing it open, wanting to throw yourself into his arms but stepping back instead when you see the stormy look in his eyes.

“Did you leak my address somewhere online?” You shoot him an incredulous look, pointing at yourself and shaking your head no. “What? Why the hell would I do something like that?” He stomps his way into the small kitchen, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know, I asked myself the same question, but up until you came to my place I haven’t had any trouble at all. Then days later, I start getting messages that people know where I live. Little odd, don’t you think?”

You walk right up to him and poke your finger at his chest. “Hey, I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but I’d like to think you know better, I would never do something like that!” His eyes soften slightly but then his phone dings and he pulls it from his pocket, huffing loudly at whatever it is he read. “I have to go.” With that he brushes past you and turns when he gets to the door, “I have to go deal with this.” The slam of the door matches the thundering beat of your heart and you sink to the floor, trying to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

The weekend drags, your heart dragging along with it when you only hear from Bucky in short and curt texts. But as Sunday evening nears you start to get angry. You did not leak any information and you never would do that. You know it’s important that he have privacy and you respect that completely. Just as you’re about to grab your jacket and head to his place you get a text, ‘hey baby, can I come over please?”

At first you want to tell him no, but you need to resolve this one way or another, so you tell him to come. You hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs and wait at the door, opening it before he can even knock. “Hey.” His voice is quiet and sad and your shoulders slump, some of the fight leaving you. “Can I come in?” You open it fully and watch him walk through.

“Hey, listen baby, I,” he starts at the same time you say, “Bucky, I didn’t leak that info and I…” He smiles and you can’t help the small rise of your lips. He walks closer to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Normally, I would always say ladies first, but I think you’re going to want to hear this.” You take his hands in yours, “go ahead, I’m listening.” He gives them a squeeze before he starts. “So, it turns out some crazy stalker leaked my address online and started his whole thing. How they got the info in the first place is something I’m still working on finding out. Luckily, Tony is a huge help and told me he would have it all taken care of asap.”

He takes a breath and looks down for a moment and when his eyes meet yours again, they look bright with emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you and immediately jumped to conclusions. You were right when you said that I should have known better and know that this isn’t something you would ever do. I was just so angry and upset because it was getting so out of control so quickly and I handled it very poorly. Do you think you can forgive me?”

At this point he has you pressed to his chest, his fingers brushing the hair from your face as he cradles your cheek. “Oh Bucky, I’m sorry it happened. It’s awful and I would have been angry too! Thank you for the apology, just promise you’ll trust me from now on. I’m here to help.” He dips his head, looking in your eyes for any sign of apprehension. When he sees none, he kisses you softly, pulling a low moan from your throat and tightening his hold on you.

His hands move down to cup your ass and he lifts you to the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “I’ve missed you so much, doll. I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry.” You smile against his lips. “You are but I forgive you and I missed you too, you have no idea.” He chuckles, “well, I’m your idiot and I most certainly do have an idea, worst few days of my life!” A light blush coats your cheeks and Bucky kisses them both, “can I stay tonight? I don’t want to be away from you anymore.” You nod and tilt your head, bringing your lips closer to his, “why don’t you spend the night showing me just how much you missed me?”

@book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @buckstaybucky @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-henley @breezy1415 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @lokilvrr @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @this-kitten-is-smitten @yansi1923

[finnyboywolfhard]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: based roughly on ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. Reader comes home for the holidays after two years of being away.

warnings: cursing, angst, fluff

a/n: literally less than a minute into me hearing the song for the first time, I knew I needed to write this so pls enjoy ❤️

word count: 2.2k

Y/N loved going to school away from Hawkins. Getting to experience a life away from the small town that sucked the life from her and drained her happiness after a while. It had been almost two years since she had made the journey from her state school in California back to Indiana. It wasn’t like she didn’t miss her family, but it was just easier, and in all honesty better for her to stay there all year round. There was inevitably downfalls to that, having to work a full time job and also go to school, most holidays were spent alone and she had no idea what was happening in the lives of her old friends or her family for that matter. They would come visit every so often and there was frequent phone calls but it was never enough.

“Knock, knock!” Y/N said as she opened the door, her mom flying from the kitchen to wrap her daughter in her arms. 

“Oh how I’ve missed squeezing you!” Her mom said through a squished face. The girl started laughing at her mother’s reaction. The two exchanged small talk while they waltzed from the front door back to the kitchen. 

“So what’s new in the world of Hawkins?” Y/N said pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting at her kitchen table, glancing to her mom every few movements. 

“Same old, same old, not much happens and not much changes. Mrs. Click retired last year, I know how much you loved her class.” The girls mind was flooded with memories of him. Steve Harrington, her first and maybe only love. She thought of all the times he would arrive to class late and then sloppily eat his bagel while Mrs.Click was trying her best to pull nearly every girls attention away from him. Maybe that’s why Y/N attracted him, she never stared the same way every girl did. 

“Maybe I’ll send her a letter or call her to see if she’d want to chat sometime. Anything else? Any new couples?:

“That Robin Buckley came home last Christmas with a girlfriend.”

“Wait she finally came out to her parents?” 

“You knew?” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known since the whole mall fiasco.” Her mother stayed silent as she continued to move with ease around the ever so familiar kitchen.

“Do you want to settle back in or would you want to come to the store with me?” 

“I can go with you, let me go change into something else, I’ve been in these clothes since I left LA.’’ The girl ran up to her old bedroom, grabbing the suitcases from the bottom of the steps were she had left them. As she entered the room, she was hit with a wave of memories. Pictures of Y/N and Steve covered her walls, she let out a sigh. 

 I won't ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

 “Y/N, stop, you’re being over dramatic.”

“Steve! No I’m not! I got into my dream school, where I’ve wanted to go for practically my entire life. You’re not supporting me!”

“It’s not that i don’t support you, I don’t want you to leave!”

“We can do the distance! We can call and i will come back for breaks, we can write letters! We can make it work, I don’t want to chose between you or my dream.” 

“Well I want you to.”

“Steve…”

“Y/N chose.”

“Then leave Steve.” 

Sure, Y/N could pretend that the reason she didn’t come home was because she would see Steve and become overwhelmed by everything that happened between them. Sure she could pretend that she doesn’t still think of him every single day. Sure she could pretend that if Steve asked she would do anything for him. But she wouldn’t let herself. She did what was going to be best for her future. He didn’t matter if he didn’t support that. Her mind snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing. 

“Shit.” She mumbled to herself as she realized how long she must have been zoned out for. She got dressed and ran downstairs. Her mom was standing at the door, placing items into her purse. 

“You ready?” She glanced at her daughter who was pantin from how quickly she tried to get down the stairs. 

“Yup!” The two piled into the car and began driving through town. Y/N shivered, no longer being acquainted with the colder weather that seemed permanent in Hawkins. 

 It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass, But I felt it when i passed you, There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

 Y/N attention was brought back to reality as they drove past the Family Video and he was outside getting into his car. The two made eye contact as the car moved past, the eye contact remaining unbroken until they physically could not see each other anymore. She felt a tension in her chest, he looked so good, but he also looked hurt. He didn’t have that same spark that drew her to him in the first place. And it shattered her to know that it was her fault. 

“Taking in the sights?“

“Mom!” Y/N yelled out of embarrassment 

“Oh please,. Rumor has it he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you left. He’s apparently turned down every girl that’s asked him out.”

“I mean, i haven't dated anyone since I've left either. I’ve gone on dates but nothing but flings.’ 

“Maybe you should reach out.’

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes and her mom changed the conversation to something about her dad. For the rest of the night, she just spent as much time as she could attached to every member of her family’s hip. These moments were making her regret not coming back sooner a little more. 

 Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

 She found her way back to her bedroom and found a photo of her and Steve that one of the kids took. 

“Steve!” The girl giggled out as the boy pulled her tightly to his body, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek. Through her fit of giggles, his smile still shone brighter than her own. To Y/N, anything he did was brighter than hers and she was more than alright with that. Everything he did was perfect, he was the dream boyfriend. She loved each and every inch of him, no matter how often he annoyed her or how often he would say something that made little to no sense, it didn’t matter. If it was Steve, it was perfect. 

“What? You don’t want my kisses?” He faked a pout. She rolled her eyes and turned her face to look at him and touch her lips to his own. His eyes gleefully filled up with joy and he overdramatically said “you want my kisses!’

‘I’ll always want your kisses.” She said smiling, and he smiled back making pristine eye contact, only a flash tore their attention away from one another.

She pulled her eyes away from the photo in her hand, setting it down where she had just picked it up. She put her pajamas on and got comfy in her old bed. 

When she woke up the next morning, for some reason something was calling her to just go for a drive. 

 I parkеd my car right between the Methodist And thе school that used to be ours

 She drove around the town observing all of the vaguely familiar settings, remembering each moment she had connected to the setting. As she parked her car a little down from the high school, she focused on her breathing for the first time in a while. She got out of her drivers seat and out of the car, grabbed a book from her backseat and went to sit on the lawn sprawled beside her. As she walked down the hill, she noticed a figure. As she approached, the figure became clearer and clearer. Steve. 

“Hey.” She called out to him, his head snapped up to look at her standing over him. 

“Hey Y/N, long time no see.”

“Two years.” She said, she waved her hand a bit to ask if she could sit next to him and he nodded his head yes before he continued. 

“How have you been?’ 

“Good! Busy as hell, but good. What about you Stevie?” The nickname slipped out without much thought at all. 

“I’ve been doing my best. I am now manager at Family Video, Keith left.”

“Damn, for real?’ He nodded his head yes and she shook hers in disbelief. “I heard about Rob’s girlfriend. Well, I heard that she had one.’ 

“Oh! Yeah! Her name is Marie and she’s really nice. They’re a good match, she’s just as smart as Robin, I can barely keep up with them.” 

“Who could realistically ever keep up with Robin, let alone Robin and someone just like her.” The two let out dry laughs, which helped to relax some of the weird tension between the two. 

“How long are you here?”

“Just for the holidays, I’m only staying with my parents until the second week of January.” 

“Ahh.” The tone of his voice switched to one much sadder. The air hung still, neither of their voices filling the space anymore. She spoke before she could think. 

“Would you wanna drive around later? Look at lights? For old times sake?” She looked at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. He looked back at her, searching her face to make sure it wasn’t a joke. 

“Uhh, yeah. I mean...I’m meeting Robin and Marie at like 9 to hang out for a little bit, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.’

“You’re not intruding if I’m inviting you Y/N/N.” For a moment, it felt like the past. It was as if they teleported back to when things weren’t like they were now. But what’s stopping them from letting things be like the past while she’s home? The only heart that would be breaking even more would be hers. 

 We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend, ‘tis the damn season 

 He rang the doorbell a little after eight, and she rushed to her door before any of her family. She yelled out a goodbye and they walked out the door and over to his car. 

‘So, school? How is that?”

“It’s hell, but what else was to be expected.” 

“And you’re still a film major? Nothing has changed?”

“Yes sir, still a film major.’

“You’d be impressed, I am starting to actually remember the names of movies!’

“That’s a big step for you, consider me proud.”

“Thanks babe.” It slipped out of his mouth without a thought. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that it just kinda came out.” She let her hand reach out and rest on his thigh. 

“It’s okay, we call each other babe for the time being, no big deal.” 

‘Tis the damn season.” Steve let out in a huffed breath. The two kept chatting and the car got more and more comfortable, they fell into their old rhythm. It felt like the road she chose to go down, didn’t ruin everything. He pulled up to the diner they were meeting Robin and her girlfriend at and sat patiently in Steve’s car. Their heads were leaning back against the head rests and they were looking into each other’s eyes. He reaches over and grazes her face. She pulls in a breath as he shows her the eyelash now sitting atop his finger. 

‘Make your wish.” He said gently, she closed her eyes to think for a second and blew the eyelash from his finger softly. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled. The neon lights shone down from the sign through his windshield and grazed his face, framing it and shaping it with a red hue. He looked angelic. 

‘What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked quietly, not entirely sure why he was being so quiet. 

“Nothing.” She said, trying to push past the feelings building inside her. She fakes a smile. 

“Don’t do that, you know I can tell when you’re lying. What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how beautiful you look and how much i want to kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you should.” He reaches his hand over to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek as her leans closer. Their lips meet in the middle, colliding with a gentle passion that filled Y/N with relief. Although the pain of the past hung around like old perfume, it seemed to be patched by this kiss. His lips were plump and soft, his hands against her skin were rough but tender. He fit with her perfectly, and there was no one on earth who she likes kissing more. As they pulled apart, their eyes never lost contact. 

It didn’t matter in that moment that she was leaving again in a month, or the fact that Robin had gotten there in the middle. Nothing mattered in that minute. Because all of those moments where they missed one another were mended right now. And somehow, even though she chose a different path, it still led her to her hometown. It led her to Steve.

[colorseeingchick]

hi enya! i’d like to request the self ship date for your 200 event!! congratulations again 💞

right now i’m currently in love with murasakibara 🥴 i really like him because well he’s just so cool even though he’s “lazy” and the fact that he snacks a lot is cute and also relatable because i feel like i’m always snacking as well. plus his determination is admirable even though he always whines about being tired, which is also relatable. and he’s just so pretty!!! agh maybe it’s the long hair or maybe his height but he’s just so pretty i cant 🧎‍♀️💞

as for myself, we both know you know me pretty well 😌 but for some hobbies, i dance, i can cook & bake i’m just to lazy to or don’t have the stuff for it, i love to read romance manga, i like roller skating, and of course watching anime/moves/tv shows!!

Meg have mercy on this monstrosity I've created. This is the DEFINITION of carried away.

Premise: You had plans with your friends to hang out, but last minute they had to cancel. When you walk out to the main hall of the dorms, you find Murasakibara snacking on some food and watching TV. You were the manager of Yosen, so you considered Murasakibara a good friend, even though you two hadn’t really hung out without other people around. When he asks you why you look down, you tell him that your schedule was now (undesirably) empty. He has a solution.

“Why don’t we do something?” He pauses the rustle of his hand rummaging through the chips.

You look up at him from your spot on the floor (you’d been lounging around in your pjs, a large stuffed animal acting as a pillow as you sprawled out on the ground). “Like what?” You weren’t used to Murasakibara asking to do things, especially not with you.

“We can go, get food? Or something.” he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, but you didn’t care too much. A huge smile crossed your face as you jumped up, quickly shuffling towards Murasakibara on your knees, opting not to stand. His eyes go wide as he sees you approaching him.

“Really! Will you really go with me?” You look at him, leaning against the couch he sat on.

“Yes. I already said I would.”

“Ahhh, you’re the best, Mu-kun!” You leap up, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders (you can barely get them around to his back), before running off to get changed. “I’ll go get ready quickly! I’ll be back!”

You didn’t see the way his face erupted pink- but don’t worry. There was time for you to see later.

You throw on a pink crop top covered in tiny cows and a pair of ripped jeans- if you were going out, might as well look a bit cute, you think to yourself.

Stepping out into the hallway, you’re shocked to find Murasakibara...trying? With his appearance? He had a decent sense of style, you knew, but he usually just defaulted to a graphic shirt and joggers. Finding him a black fitted shirt with ripped jeans and chains of his own was surprising, but very welcomed. He had one of his huge zip up jackets on, though.

“Murasakibara, you look so good!” You cheer at him. Running to him and grabbing his hand, you tug him (well, try to) out the door. “I’m hungry, let’s go.” While slow, he followed you, internally noting how small your hands were in comparison to his. “I’m driving.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t crash us.” He teases as he reclines your passenger seat as far back as possible.

“Ah, excuse you-” you nudge him. “Where should we get food from?”

He stares at you, looking at your features illuminated by the street lights. You’d already started driving, but who knows where to. “Wherever you want.”

You ended up driving to your favorite restaurant in the area, a diner with food on the cheaper end with great quality. It was comfy. As you and Murasakibara sit down, you’re greeted by a young male waiter who takes an obvious interest in you.

Actually, uh. Well, it’s obvious to Murasakibara. Not so much to you.

“How are ya doin’ tonight?” His flirting wasn’t obvious per say, but Murasakibara sees the way he looks at you. The waiter manages to ignore the death glare that was sent his way, though. After you both order your food, you noticed Murasakibara’s pout and glare.

“Hey are you okay?” You ask him, unsure of what had unsettled him.

“Just hungry.” he waves your concern off. “...so, how was your day?”

You assumed he was trying to avoid the work of carrying the bulk of conversation, which was pretty in character, so you happily chatted away, telling him about the stupid things that happened when you went shopping in the morning and when you got your nails redone.

When your food came about, you thanked your waiter when you noticed a pin on his shirt.

“Oh my gosh, is that a Red Riot pin!?”

“It is! Are you a My Hero fan?”

As you expressed your love of Kirishima, you were surprised when the waiter seemingly abruptly excused himself.

“...I wonder what that was about.”

“Mm. eet was ooddh” Murasakibara responds, mouth stuffed. His demeanor was relaxed, but had you turned around moments earlier you’d have seen that his eyes were screaming murder.

After eating your shares of food and talking about random things, you were ready for the check.

“I’m paying for you.” Murasakibara says.

“You don’t have to, Murasakibara-kun!” You’re quick to respond.

“I’m paying.”

“No.”

“I’m paying.”

“Are you sure?”

The waiter walks up to you both, hands clasped and a nervous look on his face. “So, are we doin’ a split bill or-”

“I’m paying.” Murasakibara says to the waiter.

“Got it. He’s paying.”

“Hey, I’m serious you really didn’t have to! That’s not fair is it?”

“You always buy me snacks and things. Lemme pay for you this time.” His tired eyes gaze up at you, something unspoken lingering behind them.

“Fineee, but I’m paying next time, okay?” He smiles at that, so you’ll take it as a yes.

~~

Driving back to the dorms, a sign catches your eyes.

“Oh my gosh, they’re open!” You cut your previous train of thought short.

“Ehh? What is?” Murasakibara turns to you, curiosity heavy in his voice.

“The new roller rink! I love roller skating I’ve wanted to go for so long. Can we go?” The question slips out of your mouth before you realized you’d asked it.

Murasakibara just stares at you from the passenger seat in silence. “What a pain.”

“Wait, really?”

“Go before I change my mind,” his tone was whiny as he stared out the window, resting his chin on his hand propped up on the car door. You let out a delighted squeal as you drive to the rink.

~~

“I’ll be sitting here.” Once you two enter the rink, Murasakibara sits on the side immediately. It takes a lot of pleading and tugging on his arm to get him to come with you.

After getting the skates (and the people behind the counter struggling to find a pair in the back big enough for Murasakibara), the two of you entered the rink. In your excitement, you glide through the rink, going fast in a circle and smiling wide. It’s only once you come around that you realize Murasakibara hasn’t moved. He’s still by the side of the wall, holding on.

“What’s wrong?”

“...” the blank stare on his face and the irritation rising on the corner of his lips said everything.

“You don’t know how to skate, do you.” You hit it on the head. His pout exaggerates as he tries to slide forward, losing his balance at even the smallest movement.

“I promise it’s not that hard, I can teach you!” you’re grateful that the rink was empty except for you two, the 3 workers, and some other teens who were minding their own business on the other side.

He listens to your instruction, moving away from the wall, and glides forward three times before slamming onto the ground.

“Ahh, are you okay?” you reached out to help him up. You’d seem him slam to the ground harder in games, but the concern was real nonetheless.

But he just waves you off and manages to stand on his own. This process repeats for a couple more times, with each passing time Murasakibara getting better and better.

“You’re such a fast learner! It took me a while to learn.” He wouldn’t say anything but he glowed from your praise. All that being said, he was still slow to move. You didn’t mind taking the initiative and grabbing his hand, holding it as you got him to skate with you. Admittedly, it gave you butterflies (you’d wanted to hold his hand properly for such a long time, instead of just tugging him in a direction before letting go). His hands are giant compared to yours. ou could barely even see your hands while he held it, except for your bright pink nails. But he held your hand tight the entire time, quietly keeping his balance. As you two started to go faster and faster, you gained good momentum till Murasakibara miscalculated on a turn and ended up falling. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, his hold on your hand hadn’t let up.

“AH!” You fall back onto the giant man who met the grounds only moments before you do.

“Shit, are you okay?” It’s his turn to ask you. When you burst out laughing, he lets go of his baited breath quietly.

“That was so fun!”

“Are you...hurt though?” Showing concern is hard, he thinks. It’s hard to do without his face burning up.

As you say “I’m fine, you cushioned my fall,” you both notice you’re still on top of Murasakibara, your chest pressed against his stomach. Out of shyness you shuffle away, hurrying to your feet. “We should get going,” you remark, trying to get out of the rink. But not without falling onto your face.

“Oi- Meggie-chin!” That sounded like it hurt.

By the way you sputtered and shook your head, he could tell it shook you a bit. He was able to help you get back on your feet and roll you to your shoes (he really did learn fast).

“Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”

“There’s a convenience store next door! Let’s go get some snacks!~” You seemed unphased by your fall at the thought of more food, running out the door to the store.

Yeah, it was no surprise Murasakibara was down bad for you. What more could he have wanted than a girl who loves food the way he does?

~~~

The store was illuminated with neon lights, the isles neatly organized. As Murasakibara snagged snacks off every wall, you were checking out the dairy product isle.

He comes up beside you, noticing the way you shivered.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t decide what type of ice cream to buy. Or if I want ice cream at all. It’s so cold in here! But what if it’s hot back in the dorms and I’ll want ice cream then?” You pause to think. “Ah! I can’t decide.”

Your sight is blinded when a warm fabric falls over your head. “Take my jacket. Then decide.”

As you pull the jacket off your head, you pull it over your arms. It was giant on you. The ends came down to your mid thigh and the sleeves consumed your arms. But it smelled of his cologne and was so warm. Blushing at the fact your crush gave you his JACKET, you happily grab 2 cartons of ice cream in celebration. As you walk up to the register, you see Murasakibara with 2 cartons of strawberry milk.

“I know you like them. We can drink them back at the dorms.” You never recalled telling him you liked strawberry milk, even though you did drink them quite often. But you didn’t take him for the kind to notice that.

~~~

“I had a lot of fun, Murasakibara-kun.” You smile as you both walk back into the dorms. “We should do that again. Maybe. But only if you want to!”

“I wanna watch that show.”

“Huh?” You didn’t know what he was talking about.

“My Hero. You were talking about it earlier. I haven’t had time to watch it, so if you wanna watch it with me you can. I guess.”

Your crush asked you to watch tv with him? Big dub!

“I’d love to! Just let me know when, okay?”

“Next Friday?”

~~

Jumping onto your bed, you squeal into your pillow as you process the fun hangout you had with your crush. You hadn’t really been on your phone much, so you finally decide to check it.

“New message from: Enya-chi” : swiping on the notification, you see-

IASIUDHFOSIJDF MEG UR GOING ON A DATE WITH MURASAKIBARA!?!?!?! GET IT GIRL ;)

Unsure of how she knew and it being called a date, you videocall her.

“MEG oh my God how was it!” “Wait wait wait Enya what do you mean “date?”

She looks at you in shock. “Bro, I was with Kise, Aomine, and all them when Kise got a call from Mu-kun and he said he asked you on a date and wanted advice. What do you MEAN you don’t KNOW what I mean by date!!?? Ma’am!!!!!”

As you think back on everything that happened throughout the day, the implications of it being more than a hangout started to settle on you. Your face burned a bright red.

“Earth to MEGGG~ oh my God did he really not tell you it was a date?” She dissolves into hysterics.

"No!!!???? He just asked to hang out!"

“Meggie-chi he’s an idiot! He was supposed to tell you. He probably forgot okay?” Kise’s voice cuts through as he jumps onto the screen.

“He didn’t forget he definitely just didn’t have the nerves-” Aomine’s voice can be heard in the background.

“So when’s the next date~” Kise and Enya wait expectantly for your answer.

Oh my God.

Let’s do this again.

“Oh my I asked him out again, and he said next Friday.”

“I think you’ll be seeing him sooner than that though. You have to return that jacket you’re wearing.” Enya giggles, a broad smile on her face.

At the realization you still had it on, you hang up, too overwhelmed to talk.

This was about to get interesting.

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

Funnily enough this only took like an hour total. But yeah i'm crazy I'm sorry you're friends with a crazy girl meg