#and just felt the need to put that out there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spideyjimin · 1 day ago

Text

ALWAYS LOVE | jjk

⤷ when the world’s most famous quarterback walks into your quiet little library, your heart skips a beat—or maybe two, especially when it’s jungkook, your high school crush. eleven years have passed, but your feeling haven’t faded, not even a little. what you never expected? he felt the same way all along… and now, everything you left unsaid is coming back to the surface.

pairing: dad!jungkook x librarian!fem. reader genre: friends to lovers, football au, angst, fluff, and smut rating: 18+ words: 17,152 warnings: jk is kind of coldhearted, mention of breakup, mention of cheating, mention of heartbreak, nervousness, guilt, physical and emotional pain, a tiny bit of jealousy, health issues, mention of drowning, epilepsy, mention of seizures, crying, drowning, description of a seizure, flirting, dirty talking, sexual tension, masturbation, phone sex, mention of sex, nipple play, nipple sucking, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, a bit of spanking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, doggy style, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, and mention of cockwarming author’s note: well, in the end, i still managed to finish this fic for this weekend 😬 most of the fic was already done sooo i’m proud that i could do it ✨ for the first time ever, i’ve put into words what it has been like to navigate life with epilepsy. of course oc has a different background, but in the end, whatever i have been feeling since i’m fourteen has been put there. in any case, i hope you enjoy it & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 🩵 thanks a lot for all your support 🩵 MASTERLIST

Jungkook grabs tightly the little hand of his five-year-old daughter, Hana, as they walk down the street. A couple of days ago, he promised her to buy some books in the little shop that her teacher advised. Apparently, she read a story that Hana adored, and she wants to have it at home. At least, she wants her dad to have it.

His eyes scan the street, hoping nobody will recognize him under his hat and sunglasses. He rose to fame when he became the hottest quarterback, something he didn’t really ask for, but as long as people leave his daughter alone, he absolutely gives no shit about this madness around him.

His eyes quickly look down at his baby before a smile grows on his face. Being her father is his biggest achievement and a role he absolutely adores. Being around her makes him extremely happy, and for a long time, it compensated for the fact that the relationship with her mother was a complete failure.

Jungkook met Miji, his ex-girlfriend and Hana’s mother, when he joined his current football team. They started dating quickly, but he knew he had never fallen in love with her. But he liked her. She was nice, funny, and caring. They stayed together for a solid six years.

Jungkook believed that he’d stay with her forever—yeah, even though he wasn’t in love with her. Hana joined them four years later, and her arrival made them extremely delighted. However, things began to change slowly when he gained fame. Miji wasn’t handling it very well.

For a while, he believed that she just needed time, but things got absolutely nasty. Living in the city was slowly suffocating her. People were jealous of her and were not being super nice to her. She wanted to move out, which they did. But it didn’t help. She clearly didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore.

Instead of leaving him and breaking up in a ‘correct’ way, she decided to cheat on him with her best friend. It was ugly, and Jungkook was hurt. He wasn’t really heartbroken, but it doesn’t erase the pain that cheating brings.

After the breakup, things got even messier. She kept the house; her best friend moved in, she asked for full custody of Hana, and for money because she couldn’t afford Hana’s upbringing. Jungkook didn’t give in. He refused to give her anything, and even less his daughter’s custody.

So now they share her custody, and he doesn’t give anything to Miji. The saddest part is that Hana hates being with her mother. She doesn’t like her new boyfriend and cries every time she has to go to her mother’s house. It devastates him, but he can’t do anything.

As he pushes open the library’s door, he gently lets his little princess step inside first. He follows, closing softly the door behind them. The moment he sets foot inside, his heart stops beating for a second before pounding with a force he hasn’t felt in years. It’s like the world completely vanished around him. It feels like he’s seventeen again.

You’re there.

You’re standing there, looking for a book on the shelves while you’re joyfully talking with someone else, completely unaware of him. The sound of your voice pulls him in before his eyes do. His gaze lingers, drinking you in.

You’re wearing a blue floral dress with a beautiful pair of grey sandals. A few silver rings catch the light. And then, his chest tightens. You’re still wearing the bracelet. The one he gave you before one of your big competitions, meant to be your lucky charm. Maybe it still is. Maybe it never was.

You haven’t seen him yet, too caught up in your conversation with the woman next to you. Deep down, he is grateful. He needs a moment to just look at you, to take in how much you’ve changed, and how much you haven’t.

“Daddy,” a small voice tugs him back.

He looks down. Hana is clutching his shorts, eyes wide and expectant.

“Yes, boo,” he murmurs, forcing his eyes away from you. “Let’s go find that book.”

She offers him the brightest smile on earth before they both walk inside. Jungkook removes his sunglasses before they begin walking together toward the kids’ section, his hand wrapped protectively around hers, but his heart is still pounding with every step that brings him closer to you.

As they walk, Jungkook keeps glancing in your direction. He’s not sure why his hands are clammy, or why his chest aches in a way he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe it’s because for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all.

You’re still you. The same softness in your voice. The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re thinking. And that bracelet. The one he bought for you in secret because he couldn’t find the courage to tell you how much you meant to him.

He never imagined you’d still be wearing it.

His fingers twitch at the memory of that day, handing it to you awkwardly, pretending it was nothing, just a good-luck charm. But it wasn’t. It was everything he didn’t dare to say out loud.

Then, you look up.

At first, you think that it’s just your imagination, but when you hear him talking to the little girl next to him, you know it’s him. For a second, you freeze. Your breath hitches. That jawline. That smile. That voice.

It can’t be.

But then he speaks again—soft, tender—and the warmth of recognition spreads through you like sunlight through glass. It’s him. It’s really him.

Jungkook.

Your heart lurches in your chest. Not just because he’s here, standing in your library like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world, but because he hasn’t changed. Or maybe he has, but the way you feel when you see him, that hasn’t. Not even a little.

He’s holding a little girl’s hand. His daughter, maybe? You swallow hard, unsure what to do with the storm of emotions building inside you: joy, fear, longing, and the familiar ache of everything you never said.

You don’t really listen to the woman next to you. She’s far gone now, and you don’t even feel sorry about it.

Jungkook is literally standing in your library and not in the billboard in front of the library, abs on full display for that Calvin Klein advert. Honestly, it was hard to see him every day for a month. It was a constant reminder of the massive crush you had on him at seventeen.

Suddenly, he turns around, his eyes meeting yours.

At first, you think that he probably doesn’t recognize you, and you wouldn’t blame him for that. It’s been eleven years since you last saw each other. However, he starts walking in your direction, his hands pressed behind the little girl’s head, inviting her to follow him.

Your heart beats crazily inside your chest, wondering if he has, in fact, recognized you or if he’s going to ask for a book.

He stops in front of you, a smile spreading across his face before his sweet voice reaches your ears.

“Yn,” his honey-like voice says. “It’s been a long time.”

Honestly, you don’t really know what to reply to him. He still looks like he was handcrafted by god himself, but somehow, he got even better. His body has become even broader than before, which you didn’t think was possible.

Of course, you noticed it on the Calvin Klein ad, but seeing it in real life is completely different.

His shoulders have expanded in an impossible way, his arm is fully hidden behind tattoos, and his black t-shirt can’t even hide his toned chest. Well, for sure, being a quarterback is responsible for this change, but it’s incredible.

However, the one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time is his big doe eyes. They can still make you melt—as they also do with any other girl.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he adds.

Well, you too. And you never pictured your reunion in your own library. This was the last place on earth you’d imagine to find him. You can still remember how much he hated to read. He’d always ask you to summarize the books you needed to read at school.

“Me neither,” you reply.

Your eyes drop down to the little girl standing beside him. She looks exactly like him. There’s no doubt she’s his daughter. It was no secret that he became a father long before fame hit. He always likes to bring it up in interviews. And according to most women, he is the hottest dilf to ever walk the face of the earth.

And well, you couldn’t agree more with them.

Jungkook notices when you look down at his daughter. A smile grows on his face because he has always dreamt of introducing her to you. He always hoped that this day would happen.

“This is Hana, my daughter,” he says, his gaze shifting from you to his daughter. “And Hana, this is yn, an old friend.”

She stretches her small hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with a bright smile on her face.

You decide to drop down to her level. It startles you how much she takes after her father. It’s like you’re looking at a mini female version of Jungkook. It’s absolutely mind-blowing, but it only makes her even more adorable.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Hana,” you reply before hugging her.

Honestly, you always adored kids, and you’ve secretly dreamt of having children of your own. And whenever a child steps inside your library, you always take the time to interact with them—even sometimes, hugging them. Now, Hana is entitled to have a hug because she’s Jungkook’s daughter.

Her little arms wrap around your neck, and for a second, you close your eyes. Feeling her close to you helps to calm your nerves because having Jungkook right in front of you after all these years is quite something.

“You smell like coconut,” she whispers in your ear.

“It’s my shampoo’s scent,” you whisper back to her.

“It smells good,” she adds, and you can help but smile even more.

Jungkook watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes, his heart heavy with unspoken emotions. This right here makes him melt like never before. He has never seen anything this emotional, despite experiencing many emotions in his life.

You step back, putting an end to this heartfelt embrace, and you stand up again. Then, your eyes meet Jungkook’s once more. There’s something in his gaze that you’ve never seen before, and it surprises you, but you decide not to focus on that.

“I imagine you were looking for a book,” you say, your eyes looking down at Hana.

“Yes,” she happily says before clapping her hands with excitement.

“Her teacher talked about your library, and she bought Hana’s favorite book here,” Jungkook begins to explain. “So, here we are.”

The three of you walk to the kids’ section like it’s the most natural thing when you’re both dying on the inside. This right here feels absolutely unreal, but somehow, it feels good.

Thankfully, you have Hana’s book in store, and you even recommend some other books to her. Jungkook buys them all without even blinking. You can’t help but think that his daughter is spoiled, and it doesn’t surprise you. He definitely looks like a girl’s dad.

“Your number is still the same?” he asks after paying for all the books.

“No,” you shake your head while handing him the little bag containing the books.

You don’t really know what crosses your mind, but you write your phone number on a small sheet of paper. When you hand it to him, his huge hand touches yours, causing a hundred thousand fires to ignite in your hand.

“Thanks,” he whispers. “And it was a pleasure to see you again.”

You simply nod, your heart beating crazily in your chest. You don’t know how you managed to act normally around your high school crush, but you’re proud you did it.

And now, you’re dying to see him again.

Jungkook is waiting for you at a small café just around the corner from your library. Just a few hours after your unexpected reunion, he had texted you, asking if you’d like to meet again. You had said yes, of course you had. But with his tightly packed schedule, this meeting couldn’t happen until a week later.

You’ve been thinking about it every day since.

As you step into the café, the scent of coffee and warm pastries wraps around you like a hug. Your eyes quickly scan the room, heart fluttering. Then you see him—tucked into a quiet corner near the back, just far enough from the window to keep a low profile.

When your eyes meet, a smile forms on both your faces at the same time—automatic, familiar, like no years have passed at all.

You walk toward him, trying not to overthink each step, but your mind is spinning. He looks effortlessly good—a fitted black Supreme shirt, dark jeans, just the right amount of stubble. On the table, there’s a pair of sunglasses and the same cap he wore at the library. You realize immediately that he still tries to move unnoticed, even now.

There’s something strangely grounding about that.

As you reach the table, your nerves catch up with you. You pause for a beat, standing there awkwardly with a crooked, uncertain smile. Should you hug him? Shake his hand? Say something clever?

But before you can fumble your way into a worse moment, you pull out the chair and sit down.

“Hey,” he says, his voice deep, low—somehow both relaxed and nervous.

“Hey,” you echo, the word coming out softer than you expected.

For a brief moment, there’s silence between you. But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s full, charged with something unspoken, like both of you are quietly remembering the same things.

“You opened your dream library,” he says finally, breaking the quiet.

You nod. “It wasn’t easy… but I worked hard for it.”

He smiles, eyes warm. He’s always known how determined you were. Always admired it.

“I can imagine it,” he says. “The place was beautiful. Hana couldn’t stop talking about it for days. I think she told every kid in her class.”

You laugh—genuinely, this time—and feel your smile stretch wider, more naturally than it has in a while.

“I’m glad she liked it,” you say. “She was really sweet.”

Jungkook nods slowly, his expression thoughtful, like he wants to say something more but is carefully choosing his words.

“She truly is,” he says while thinking about his little girl.

Before you even get to reply, the waiter appears at your table, his eyes lingering a little too long on Jungkook. He recognizes him, you’re absolutely sure about it, but the quarterback acts like it’s nothing.

“Have you already chosen what you’d like to take?” he asks, his eyes finally meeting yours.

You come regularly to this place, so you already know what you want. It’s up to Jungkook. As he looks at you, he understands that you’re kind of asking if he has chosen.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You both proceed to make your order, and the waiter disappears, leaving you alone again.

“How can you deal with people recognizing you?” you ask with evident surprise in your voice.

Jungkook shrugs before leaning back slightly. He watches you for a moment—not in a way that makes you feel self-conscious, but like he’s memorizing everything about this moment. Maybe even trying to figure out where to start.

“I’m used to it,” he honestly replies. “It’s like that all the time.”

He seems so unfazed about it, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But you realize that it’s normal for him. It just isn’t for you. Maybe if you were in his shoes, it would also be just normal.

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“At first, it did,” he replies, “especially since Hana was still a baby, but now, it doesn’t anymore.”

You glance down at the table, brushing your thumb over the edge of your napkin because you feel the need to occupy your fingers.

“I still get nervous if someone compliments my handwriting,” you chuckle. “I can’t imagine people knowing my face.”

A little laugh escapes his lips, and damn, you missed this. You absolutely missed everything about him, and you can’t only blame yourself for this. It’s your fault if you went eleven years without seeing each other.

“If things had gone differently, people might have known you, too.”

“Yep,” you simply nod.

Your true dream was to become a swimmer, like a professional one. You still remember perfectly when it began. Your parents, who are big fans of sports, brought you to the 2008 Olympic Games in China to watch the swimming competition. You were still young at that time, barely entering your first teenage years, but you instantly fell in love with it.

Back home, you decided to learn it, and very quickly, it became a passion. As you grew up, you worked hard to become a professional athlete and hopefully make it to the Olympic Games one day.

But life had other plans, and they crushed you in a way you can’t even explain. Even today, it hurts to think that you’ll never be able to make it to the Olympic Games. You’ll only ever be a spectator.

“But let’s not talk about it,” you tell him. “It’s in the past.”

Jungkook simply nods, understanding that it still might be a sensitive topic for you. Even for him, it’s such a traumatic memory, so he can’t even imagine how it is for you.

“I’m happy you still managed to open the library you always wanted,” he says with a little smile.

“Thanks,” you reply. “After everything, I guess a part of me needed to prove I could still make something good out of my life. Something that mattered.”

He nods, his gaze softening.

“You always knew what you wanted. I envied that, back then.”

You smile faintly.

“You were too busy being the golden boy to envy anyone.”

Jungkook chuckles at that—low and genuine.

“God, I hated that nickname.”

“Everyone adored you,” you tease, but your voice carries a bit more weight than you’d intended.

The waiter arrives just then with your orders. You both ordered tea, a reminder of the old times. You always enjoyed a good cup of tea together. On top of that, you also took a piece of banana bread.

“So now you’re a dad,” your sentence sounds more like a question than an affirmation, but it’s far from being a question.

“Yep,” he exhales slowly. “Hana changed everything. But in a good way. She saved me from going off the rails, honestly. Gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt loud.”

You nod, watching him, and feeling something inside you stir—a strange mix of admiration and quiet sadness. He’s not just the boy you knew anymore. He’s a man. A father. Still kind, still thoughtful, but heavier now, like he’s carried more than he lets on.

“I’m very happy for you, Guk,” you genuinely say.

Jungkook has it all now, even all the girls in the world. It’s no secret that he dates models or singers, or even actresses. Whenever there are big events, he’s always posing on the red carpet with a new one. Most of the time, you feel absolutely jealous of them. You wished you were the one holding his arm while posing for the cameras.

“You seem to have it all now, and you deserve it,” you add.

He chuckles softly, but you feel like there’s no real humor in it. His fingers tap lightly against his teacup before taking a sip.

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with his eyes fixed on the table.

You tilt your head, understanding that he’s not convinced at all by his words.

“I’m doing what I like, so yeah, I have what I always wanted,” he continues, his eyes now shifting up to meet your gaze. “And I have Hana too, but…”

He completely halts, uncertain if he needs to continue and confess to you that he never found love because no girl could ever compare to you. He breaks up with them when he realizes that they can’t give him what you could. Despite what many people think, he has never slept with them. The last person he ever shared an intimate moment with was Miji, Hana’s mother.

It’s stupid because the chances of meeting you again were very low. He could try to find love, but how could he forget his first love? How could he ever forget the first girl he ever loved?

Jungkook never stopped loving you, and he will never. He doesn’t want it.

And somehow, he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand that he’s missing love in his life.

“Not love,” you finish his sentence.

Jungkook simply nods, almost ashamed that you figured it out.

“That’s not how it looks,” you chuckle a bit. “You always have a new woman in your arms.”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“They don’t mean anything.”

In a weird way, his words comfort you. It’s like some hope bloomed in your chest.

“Not nice to say that,” you reply. “Especially since they are all very pretty and very well-known.”

Jungkook takes a moment before replying to you. He just shrugs.

“I don’t care,” he finally says.

It definitely baffles you that such a handsome and good-looking man doesn’t care at all about the women he’s associated with. And most importantly, from what you remember, he wasn’t like that. Or at least, not with you.

“They don’t have what I’m looking for,” he confesses. “And most of the time, they don’t like Hana.”

That is an absolute lie. They all adore Hana, and they adore even more to see him interact with her, but he doesn’t want to sound like an absolute jerk. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s a cold-hearted person.

“Who wouldn’t like her?” you say with surprise. “She’s absolutely adorable!”

“I know,” he smiles with pride swelling in his chest.

You take a bite of the banana bread. You absolutely adore it. The way they do it in this café is mind-blowing. You’ve already begged the owner to tell you her secret, but she refuses.

“This is my favorite banana bread,” you confess with your mouth full.

A smile stretches across his handsome face, and it feels like you’ve been brought back to when you were seventeen and taking lunch breaks together.

Jungkook also takes a bite, and he has to confess that it’s pretty good.

“It’s not bad,” he says.

“Not bad?” you say, widening your eyes. “It’s fucking delicious!”

He chuckles at your reaction. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable. Even though eleven years have gone by, you’re still the same. You haven’t changed a bit.

“I’m kidding,” he replies. “It’s super good. Might be coming back for more.”

After that, you keep talking about random stuff and remembering good old times. Even though things have changed, everything still feels the same. The way your heart beats around each other. The way you smile at each other’s silly jokes. Or the warmth wrapping around you when you’re together.

Despite everything, the love you feel for each other hasn’t changed a bit.

For the past ten days, you’ve been texting nonstop with Jungkook. It has freed thousands of butterflies inside your stomach, especially when it seems that he’s flirting with you.

Obviously, you push that thought away the second it pops in your head because you’re absolutely sure that he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. It has always been only friendship between you two.

At least, that’s what you believe.

jk: how’s your day going?

you: too many clients today 😫 drained all my energy.

At some point, you thought you wouldn’t be able to follow up on how full your library was. Your library has been growing a lot. It was supposed to be a little and quiet one, but it hasn’t been the case lately. You’re unsure why, but somehow, you’re grateful it’s working even better than you imagined it.

jk: you should hire someone to help

you: maybe but it would cost a lot, and i don’t have the funds yet

jk: i could help if you need

You would gladly accept his help, but you want to do this all by yourself. You don’t want him to invest in your library. You’ll feel like you owe him money, and you don’t want that. You already have a bank loan, and it’s more than enough.

you: i can’t accept it, guk

jk: why not? 🤔

He might be super wealthy, and it probably means nothing to him, but it’ll mean everything to you. And you don’t want that.

You’re lying in your bed, stomach pressed on your mattress as you think of an answer. You’re not sure what to say.

jk: i’ve the means to help you out

you: you should keep your money

jk: i’ve too much

You roll your eyes. Of course, he has. That doesn’t surprise you.

you: i still won’t accept it. keep it to yourself, i’ll manage to find a solution. don’t worry about me and my library

You see the little dots appearing before disappearing and reappearing, and then, his answer pops out.

jk: i’ll always worry about you 🥺

Your heart skips a beat, and your cheeks flush with warmth.

Why does it still affect you like this—the way he says things so simply, like he means every word?

you: you shouldn’t

jk: of course, i should

His reply makes your heart flutter—as if it remembers something your mind keeps trying to forget.

jk: you’re pushing yourself too hard again. and you know you’re not supposed to. i just don’t want to see you burn out.

His concern softens something in your chest. He’s not wrong, and you know it, but right now, your mind is consumed by one thing: the library’s finances.

you: i know. but i can’t accept your money, guk. i need to do this on my own.

You stare at your message for a moment after sending it. And just as you’re trying to quiet the ache in your chest, your phone buzzes, his name lighting up the screen.

He’s calling you.

Your heart skips a beat. Then it starts to race.

“Yn,” he says when you pick up.

You can perfectly hear the concern in his voice.

“Guk,” you reply.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he instantly says. “I’m—”

“You don’t understand,” you cut him off.

“Then explain me.”

You take a deep breath, thinking about how to formulate your thoughts.

“I want…” you close your eyes, flashes of the past coming out. “I want to do something by myself because I didn’t succeed in becoming a swimmer.”

For a brief moment, he doesn’t say anything. You know he’s thinking about what to say because, yeah, this is more than a sensitive subject, and since he has been back in your life, you’ve been reflecting and thinking more about everything. It’s like he’s a reminder of your failure.

“It’s not your fault, yn,” his voice is super soft. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is,” you answer, trying to keep yourself steady as your throat tightens and tears threaten to fall. “I couldn’t handle my health. I couldn’t save myself from drowning.”

His answer is immediate and firm.

“There was nothing you could’ve done, yn,” he says softly.

“You were sick. You are sick. And none of it is your fault.”

He pauses, like he’s choosing every word carefully.

“You didn’t fail. Your body just… gave out on you. That’s not a weakness. That’s not something you could’ve fixed.”

You’re not really convinced. He can’t understand how devastating it is to suddenly learn that you won’t ever be able to become a professional swimmer.

He can’t understand how much it hurts every day to see that scar on your chest because it constantly brings you back to the day you had a seizure and almost died. He doesn’t know how painful it is to hear the doctor tell you that you have epilepsy.

“You can’t understand,” you snap back. “You became a quarterback like you always dreamed of. I had to give up absolutely everything.”

You hear a small silence before he replies.

“Open the door,” his tone is firm.

“What?” you frown.

“Just open the door.”

The doorbell echoes in your apartment before Jungkook puts an end to the call. You see him in the intercom. How and when did he arrive here? You open the door to him, and when he enters your apartment, you instantly notice the swamped hair, the sweat on his face, and the way his t-shirt sticks to his chest.

“How—”

“I was running, and I wasn’t far from your place,” he simply replies.

Lie. He was indeed running, but he wasn’t close to your place, so he walked because he couldn’t let you say all this nonsense.

“You didn’t need…”

“Of course I needed,” he says before you can even finish your sentence.

You take a deep breath, your gaze locked in his. Jungkook doesn’t look away; he actually takes a step closer. His strong cologne instantly invades all your senses, and your brain only focuses on that.

“Maybe I can’t understand what you feel,” he begins. “I managed to follow my dream, and my health is great, but you can explain it to me. You can make me understand without saying shit about yourself.”

His breathing is now heavy, and somehow, he seems infuriated. It almost sounds like you disrespected him.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he continues. “You almost died, but you still managed to make it through. You opened your library despite all the health complications that epilepsy brings.”

You close your eyes, trying to hold back your tears.

“Yes, you gave up on your dream, but you’re here, which to me is more important than anything else. We both know how hard the first months were after your first seizure,” he shakes his head. “I saw every single seizure you did after, completely powerlessly. I was dying on the inside when you were crying after each seizure, blaming yourself more and more about how you couldn’t control your disease.”

It’s hard to remember those days clearly—not because they weren’t painful, but because your mind was too fogged to hold onto anything. You were barely functioning, caught in a cycle of seizure after seizure, your body aching like you’d been hit by something massive—a truck, a plane.

But worse than the muscle pain, worse than the exhaustion, was your brain.

It felt like it had been electrocuted inside your skull. Everything was hazy, heavy, like trying to think through thick glass underwater. You couldn’t focus. Even simple thoughts scattered before you could hold onto them. You also barely remember what happened, but your body didn’t.

Your body didn’t forget this kind of pain. It actually was traumatic. It still is.

And the worst part? No one could see that pain.

Unless someone’s lived with epilepsy, they’ll never really understand how it rips through your mind as much as your body.

Tears start streaming down your face, and Jungkook grabs you, holding you tightly in his embrace. You don’t hold back anymore, crying in his arms. They bring comfort, the same they did eleven years ago. And right now, you regret how you pushed him away.

As you were trying to hold yourself together in the middle of the seizures you were having, you pushed him away. It happened after he told you that he’d wait a year before going to uni to pursue his dream. He wanted to help you navigate this new journey, but you refused.

You couldn’t be the reason why he’d put his dream on hold. You’d feel guilty, so you did the most stupid thing and stopped talking to him. Didn’t answer his calls or messages. You’d always find an excuse to not let him in the hospital room. You hated yourself, but you thought he’d be better like that.

His fingers slowly and gently soothe your back, trying to comfort you as your tears soak the fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks for offering your help,” you whisper into the crook of his neck. “But I really can’t accept it,” you continue. “Let me just do it by myself.”

Jungkook simply holds you tighter, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you over again. You can feel his breath slow against your shoulder, heavy with everything he’s not saying.

He really wants to help you, but he can’t force you to accept it. However, what he can do is be by your side now, be an emotional support, and make sure that you take care of yourself.

“Okay,” he says in defeat. “I won’t push, but don’t push me away either, yn. Not this time.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. It’s painful for the two of you to remember the time when you were putting as much distance as possible between you.

“Let me help you in the way you’ll let me. Just let me be by your side.”

You simply nod before holding him tight again in your arms.

“Plus, I’m sure Hana would be happy to spend more time in your library,” he chuckles.

A smile grows on your face as you remember his adorable daughter. He, for sure, did an amazing job of raising her. She’s just as equally charming as he is. Jungkook hasn’t spoken yet about her mother, probably because it’s a sensitive subject. In the end, their relationship didn’t work out, so it mustn’t be easy to speak about it.

Eleven years ago

Your heart is beating crazily in your chest as you stand on the diving board. Your eyes are focused on the water, your ears on the whistle, but your mind is ages away from here. It somehow feels like you’re completely high, while you know you haven’t touched anything.

You think that it could be tiredness, but for the past days, you’ve been sleeping eight hours at least per day. So, it shouldn’t be that. You actually ignore totally why you feel like that. However, one thing is certain: something is off.

But you push the thought away as you need to focus. This is a competition, the biggest one in swimming. You’re already proud to be here. You’ve worked so hard. And now, you just have to give your best.

You’re not hoping to win; some of the best swimmers are standing next to you, so you know you don’t stand a chance. Nonetheless, you still want to impress the jury. You’ll probably see them again in other competitions, and you want them to have a good souvenir of you.

Your parents and Jungkook are present. They always are. They have been incredibly supportive, and it always gives you so much strength when you know they are there. You almost feel invincible.

The starter blows the whistle, announcing the beginning of the competition.

All the swimmers throw themselves into the water, but as you do so, everything goes pitch black. It’s like you’re jumping into the void.

The second Jungkook realizes you’re not going to resurface, he runs to the swimming pool. Everybody around him is slowly understanding that you’re drowning, but by the time they do, Jungkook is already jumping into the water.

He might not be as fast as you, but man, seeing you dying gives him superpowers. He’s invincible now.

A red spot appears around you as it’s noticeable that you’re bleeding. Jungkook doesn’t let himself think; he just swims towards you. The other swimmers are also heading in your direction.

Your best friend catches you while you’re convulsing in his arms, and everybody around him helps him to get you out of the water. They place you in the safety lateral position. The medical staff approaches you all.

“Please take a step back,” one of them yells.

Jungkook does it without even blinking, but his heart is literally dying. He’s powerlessly watching you convulsing on the floor, drool dripping from your mouth, and your eyes rolling back. Your face is as pale as he has ever seen before, but what pains him the most is the blood running through your body. Your blue swimsuit is even turning into a violet shade.

He's trying to see where the blood is coming from, but it feels like it’s coming from everywhere. He knows that the injury is bad, more like really bad. There will be months of recovery from this. Maybe even more.

His eyes are glued to the scene playing in front of him. You’re clearly having a seizure, you were basically drowning, and you’re bleeding from everywhere. Never in his life has he ever felt like this. Powerless and in pain.

“What’s going on?” your mom screams when she calls for you.

“Ma’am,” one of the staff turns around to look at your mother. “Please stay back.”

“That’s my daughter,” her voice trembles as she says those words out loud.

“We need to give her some room,” he explains. “She’s having a seizure.”

The world under his feet opens and swallows him entirely. This is too heartbreaking.

“There’s nothing we can do right now, and it’s best we give her some space so she doesn’t get hurt.”

Your mother simply nods.

Then, you stop convulsing. Instantly, the medical staff checks for your heartbeat. Jungkook can see by the look on their faces that they are dead worried. Your heartbeat is faint. Too faint. For a terrifying second, he thinks he’s losing you.

But for the first time, he finally breathes when he sees you opening your eyes. Without thinking twice, he gets even closer, hoping to reach for you. However, he forces himself to stay back. They are the professional ones. They know what they’re doing. They are the ones who can help you.

You cough violently, water spilling past your lips, your body shaking weakly with the effort. He’s never heard a sound so awful at the same time.

“Yn,” a medical calls for you.

You don’t react at all. You just look into the void for a couple of seconds before falling asleep again. Jungkook’s heart sinks again. Are you dying?

It feels like a lifetime has happened since he jumped into the water, when in fact, it’s been maybe five minutes. Everybody is watching the medical staff taking care of you, hoping to hear some good news in the next seconds.

A minute later, you open your eyes again. You look around with confusion, but as the medical staff speaks to you, you focus on them and reply to their basic questions like ‘what’s your name?’, ‘what day is it?’, ‘what’s your birthday?’, ‘how old are you?’, and ‘where are we?’

Luckily, you manage to reply to all of the questions, which reassures everybody around you.

“My lungs hurt,” you then say. “A lot.”

And before they can even check you up, you’re having another seizure. Jungkook never thought it would be possible to be this devastated. The pain in his heart is something he has never experienced, and it’s not because you rejected him.

It just looks like you’re dying.

The rest blurs together in a haze of sirens and hands lifting you onto a stretcher. The paramedics work quickly, voices sharp with urgency, and before Jungkook can even process it, you’re being rushed to the hospital.

Hours later, the verdict comes: surgery. You’d perforated a lung, water filling where it should never have been. They think you struck something under the surface when you went under. The thought of how close he came to losing you will haunt Jungkook forever.

The following months are nothing short of hell. You’re alive, yes, but barely holding on—your body a battleground of seizures and relentless pain. Nights blur into days filled with monitors beeping, the metallic tang of hospitals, and your quiet sobs muffled against a pillow. Every time you remember you’ll never swim professionally again, the grief rips fresh through you. You cry until there’s nothing left, until anger becomes easier than despair.

And so you push everyone away. Coaches. Friends. Even Jungkook. Especially Jungkook. He keeps trying—showing up, sitting by your bedside, waiting for you to let him in. But every time, your walls are higher, your words sharper, designed to wound because the pain inside you needs somewhere to go.

When it’s time for him to leave for university, Jungkook makes one last attempt. He stands outside your room for a long time, heart pounding, rehearsing the words he’s wanted to tell you for years. But the moment he steps in, the air is heavy with bitterness, and your voice—cold, harsh, nothing like the girl he loves—cuts through him.

He swallows his confession, tucks it away where you’ll never hear it, and walks out instead.

It’s the one decision that will brand itself into him forever—the moment he let fear and heartbreak silence him. The moment he let you go.

The stadium is still humming with leftover energy—a low, electric buzz from the roaring crowd, the echo of the final whistle still hanging in the night air. Fans are filing out slowly, waving flags and shouting chants, while reporters swarm the edge of the field, barking questions into microphones, cameras flashing like tiny bursts of lightning.

But Jungkook doesn’t hear any of it.

He hears her.

“Daddy!”

The moment her voice cuts through the noise, his helmeted head turns, scanning the crowd until he finds her—right where she always waits, behind the security rope near the tunnel. She’s bouncing on her toes, arms waving like she’s trying to flag down an airplane.

She’s wearing his team’s hoodie, three sizes too big, practically swallowing her whole. The sleeves flop past her fingers, the hem brushing her knees. Her cheeks are flushed pink from excitement, and her dark curls are flying in every direction, messy from jumping and cheering.

But that smile hits him like a punch straight to the heart. Pure joy, all for him. Nothing else matters.

He jogs over without even unstrapping his helmet, weaving past the cameras and security. His cleats thud against the turf, the adrenaline of the game still buzzing through his limbs, but everything slows when he reaches her.

He bends down and scoops her into his arms in one fluid motion, lifting her like she weighs nothing.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs.

She squeals as he spins her once, her giggle ringing out over the chaos. He presses a kiss to her temple through her curls, and her tiny arms squeeze tightly around his neck.

“You were so fast!” she exclaims, beaming.

He chuckles, finally catching his breath.

“Only because I knew you were watching.”

And for a few precious seconds, with his daughter in his arms and the world blurring behind them, Jungkook doesn’t feel like the most famous quarterback in the country. He just feels like her dad.

Right next to them stands his mother, fondly watching this scene. When it’s his week and he has a game, his mother comes with her. It is a grandma and granddaughter time before he joins them after the game.

This right here is the only medicine he needs.

But for a moment, his mind drifts to you, and he wishes you were here.

“How’d I do?” he grins.

She squints dramatically, pretending to think.

“Mmm... six out of ten.”

He seems offended by her answer.

“Six?! I threw two touchdowns and didn’t get sacked once!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t wave at me when they showed you on the big screen.”

Jungkook groans, exaggerated, but it doesn’t surprise him. She always complains when he doesn’t wave at her after he scores.

“I knew I forgot something important.”

She giggles, tugging at his chin strap like she’s inspecting him. Her hands seem so small as she touches it.

“You’re sweaty.”

Now, he’s the one giggling. Well, it’s more than normal to be sweating after an hour of intense game, otherwise it would have been surprising.

“That’s what greatness smells like,” he replies, his eyes glued to his little girl.

She makes a face, but even like that, he finds her absolutely adorable.

“Greatness smells gross.”

He laughs and sets her down gently before he fully removes his helmet. She immediately reaches for the towel slung over his shoulder and starts wiping at his face, way too seriously for someone who still mixes up her left and right shoes.

“Let me fix you,” she says with a frown of concentration. “You’re all crooked.”

Jungkook kneels so she can straighten his jersey collar, then lightly bops his nose.

His eyes quickly look up at his mother. She’s fondly looking at them, and he offers her a bright smile. Even though he adores having his daughter here, he also always looks forward to seeing her. She’s always been there, long before Hana came into the picture.

“There,” she announces, his eyes drifting back to her. “Superpowers back on.”

He just stares at her for a second, a stupid grin softening his entire face. He’s so weak around her, but he’s also the happiest dad. Everything feels a lot better when she’s near him.

“You know,” he says quietly, “scoring in front of thousands of people doesn’t feel half as good as seeing you right after.”

She beams, rocking on her heels.

“Even if I only give you six out of ten?”

“Even then.”

He grabs her hand and stands up, lacing their fingers together. They walk closer to his mom.

“Wanna go get ice cream? My treat. For surviving another one of Daddy’s games.”

“Only if I get to pick the music in the car.”

“Even if it’s that same song twenty times in a row?”

She nods, and he still asks his mother if she wants to join, but it’s not really a question. Even if she says ‘no’, he’ll bring her along. There’s no way he’s leaving her out when she always takes care of Hana while he plays.

As they walk away, the noise of the crowd fades. Because for Jungkook, the real win is always waiting at the end of the tunnel—hoodie too big, judgment sharp, and love unconditional.

After getting the ice cream, Jungkook drives his mother back home. She’s sitting next to him, in the passenger’s seat. Hana’s booster seat is buckled in the back, her sneakers swinging just above the floor. She had a fancy ice cream. That’s how she calls a chocolate with rainbow sprinkles ice cream.

Her music of choice is playing in the car: a sparkly pop song she knows every word to.

Jungkook drives with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly to the beat. He glances in the rearview mirror and smiles as she sings along, slightly off-key, but with full commitment.

His mother also knows all the lyrics—she also gets to hear it on repeat whenever her granddaughter is around. The three of them happily sing along.

“You know the entire setlist better than me,” he teases Hana.

“That’s because you’re always listening to boring adult songs.”

“Hey,” he laughs, “Queen is not boring.”

“It sounds like something grandpas listen to.”

She goes quiet for a moment, staring out the window. The lights of the stadium are still visible behind them, glowing against the night sky.

“You looked really cool today,” she says suddenly. “When you ran and threw that ball. Everyone cheered.”

Jungkook’s chest tightens just slightly—not from pride, but from how small her voice sounds when she says it.

“Thanks, baby,” he says softly.

Another pause.

“But you’re still my dad first, right?”

That gets him. He glances at her again in the mirror—her face half-lit by passing streetlights, her eyebrows pulled together just a little.

“Always,” he says, his voice low and certain. “Before the game, during the game, after the game. Every second.”

She looks satisfied with that answer and goes silent once more. Jungkook then discusses with his mother about the game and what she did with Hana while watching the game.

It’s more than evident to him how proud his mother is, and although he’s a dad now, he’ll forever do anything to make his mother proud.

“Can we get pancakes tomorrow?” Hana suddenly asks.

“You just had ice cream,” Jungkook instantly says.

“Yeah, but that was for after the game. Pancakes are for the next morning. It’s tradition.”

Jungkook grins, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know,” she mumbles.

Both Jungkook and his mother laugh at her answer. She’s unbelievable.

A couple of minutes later, they reach his mother’s house. Hana almost starts crying when she leaves the car because she doesn’t want her grandma to go, but in the end, his mother promises to come tomorrow.

While he drives back to his place, she falls asleep in the back. A smile grows on his face when he sees her peacefully sleeping in the back.

This definitely was a good day for him.

At night, in his bed, as he’s falling asleep, his phone buzzes, notifying him that he just received a text message. By reflex, he grabs his phone, and a smile grows on his face when he sees your name.

you: i saw the game

Then a second message appears.

you: congrats for the victory 🥳

A strange but welcomed warmth wraps around him like a blanket, and it feels absolutely wonderful. Everything feels wonderful with you.

jk: thanks ☺️ it wasn’t an easy win

His heart burns for you. It always has. But now it burns differently. Slower. Deeper. Steadier.

Back then, it was all adrenaline, fleeting glances in crowded hallways, nerves before a text, the ache of wanting and never quite saying it. But now, it’s something else.

you: yeah, seems like it, but you smashed them all 👀

Jungkook hesitates for a long time. Does he tell how much he wanted to have you there? Does he not? What’s sure is that he definitely wanted you there.

jk: wished you were there, too

His heart is beating fast, too nervous about what he is going to say.

jk: like old times

Eleven years ago, you’d go to all his games. You’d never miss any of them, and he’d always look for you in the crowd. When he’d see you, his heart would skip a beat. However, any time he’d find you, you wouldn’t be looking at all at the game which sometimes would make him sad. But in the end, what mattered was your presence.

you: well hopefully next time i’m invited

He smiles because he’ll for sure invite you to the next game.

jk: then consider yourself invited for the next game

Tomorrow morning, he’ll grab a ticket for the next game. Hana will be with her mom by then, so she won’t be waiting by the tunnel, but maybe someone else will.

jk: try actually watching this one this time 😏

He smirks as he sends it, not expecting anything serious. But your reply comes quickly.

you: what!! i always watch 😤

He laughs under his breath. He’s not buying it.

jk: you just stared at the ground half the time & i saw you

you: excuse me i’m offended now

He can see your pouty face. Probably crossing your arms. Maybe rolling your eyes too.

jk: not as offended as i was in high school

He pauses for a second.

jk: you never looked at me when i played

His fingers hover for a second before he types again.

jk: but i didn’t care. you were there and that was enough

This part—that’s the honest part. The one he’s not sure he should’ve sent. He exhales, waiting.

you: i always supported you even when i pretended not to watch

His pulse quickens.

jk: pretended?

You don’t answer right away. He sits up straighter, eyes fixed on your typing bubble.

you: i was always watching, just… not when you looked at me

He tilts his head, lips twitching into a knowing smile.

jk: you got shy?

you: yes

jk: why?

That question hangs heavy. His heart kicks a little harder. He already knows. But still—

jk: we were best friends…

you: you were different on the field

jk: different how?

He already feels where this is going, but he wants to hear it. Needs to.

jk: hotter?

He winces a little. Did he go too far? But then—

you: yes

jk: and now?

He’s not sure if he wants to know the answer, and he closes his eyes when he hears the ping, notifying him that you answered.

The second he reads it, he swears that he will die in his bed.

you: still the case

Fuck, the girl he’s been having a crush on has been finding him hot all this time. And man, it makes him weak. Thank god that he’s in his bed because otherwise, his knees would have betrayed him.

Jungkook decides then to press on the little microphone to record a voice note.

“Fuck… yn—” he softly exhales. “You’ve no idea how fucking hot you are.”

Jungkook knows how to flirt. If there’s anything else other than football in which he excels, it’s flirting. All the girls he has been with, he seduced them before, even though nothing happened in the bedroom.

But here with you, it’s different. It’s not flirting. It’s admitting the raw truth. The truth is that he has been dreaming about you for years. His mind has been going crazy since the second his eyes landed on you. He can’t really pinpoint the moment he fell in love with you because it was happening slowly until he couldn’t think about anything other than you.

“You’re messing with my head right now,” he finishes.

He presses the bottom send and patiently waits for your answer. He was expecting a simple text message, but you surprised him by sending a voice note.

“Jungkook,” you whisper—or should he say, moan.

Fuck, you shouldn’t have sent that. Now he’s growing hard in his Calvin Klein boxers.

“Don’t say it just because I did,” you continue.

He rolls his eyes. This is so typical of you. You’re always scared that somebody might actually be into you. He still perfectly remembers how you were when Jin, another student, was flirting with you. You were convinced that he was doing it out of pity—when, truth being told, he was so down bad for you.

“I’m serious, yn,” he whispers with a deep voice. “You’re so fucking hot that I could come in my pants like a fucking teenager by simply looking at you.”

Jungkook feels so vulnerable right now, but he couldn’t care less. He’s finally confessing his feelings for you, and he wants to do it properly. He doesn’t want to half-confess.

He runs a hand through his hair, his breath shaky.

“God, I sound insane…” he mutters with a breathless laugh, “but I don’t care. I’ve wanted you for so long. I still do. It’s not just the way you look—it’s everything.”

His voice drops again. Slower. Rougher.

“The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you look at me like I’m still that kid you knew… it drives me fucking crazy.”

He hesitates. Then adds, quieter:

“It always has.”

Then your answer comes quite quickly. His mind is going absolutely feral, and if you were here with him, he’s absolutely sure that it would end with you both in his bed going wild.

“I don’t know how you expect me to breathe after that,” your voice is shaky. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those things since I was 16, and now that you are…”

There’s a pause, your breathing is heavy, and your voice is obviously filled with lust and heat.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you, and it was never just physical,” you say, and for a moment, you seem to hesitate to continue. “But god… if you touched me right now, I’d probably melt.”

Jungkook’s hand is always going south, palming his hard cock.

“A part of me has always been yours, and I didn’t even realize how much,” you pause, your breathing heavier than before, “until you said my name like that.”

He knows he’s fucked. Way too fucked. There’s no way that after this, he’ll keep his hands to himself when he’s near you. Man, if he could, he’d already be on his way to your place to have you contorting with pleasure beneath him.

“Fuck—,” his raspy voice murmurs. “If I didn’t need to wake up early tomorrow, I would be on my way to your place.”

He knows damn well that you can hear him palming himself, but he wants it. He wants you to know how much he craves you right now.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is your call. You don’t answer with a voice note. No, you’re actually calling him. And the second he picks up, he hears how desperate, needy, and fucked you are. He never thought he’d hear that one day.

“Jungkook—,” you moan when he picks up. “You can’t turn me on like that over the phone,” you’re having difficulty breathing.

And then, he hears it. The lewd sound of your arousal.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks without answering you.

You hesitate for a second.

“Yes,” you honestly say. “You?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “I’ve been rock hard since you moaned my name.”

You softly moan at his words. Fuck, he won’t last long if you keep moaning like that when he hasn’t even touched you.

“Tell me how you’re doing it,” he says.

He can’t be with you right now, but he wants to imagine it. And he can only do that if you describe it.

“I’m rubbing my fingers between my folds.”

His cock throbs in his hand, his rhythm increasing while he closes his eyes. This pleasure is consuming him like never before.

“But it’s not enough,” you moan. “I need you, Guk.”

Oh damn, you can’t say it like that. You can’t beg him to be with you; he’s losing himself.

“Don’t beg, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I can’t be with you right now.”

Now, he’s cursing his job for being this intense. He doesn’t even know when he can be with you. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to see you before his next game, which is next week. But he can’t wait that long. Not after this call.

“Keep touching yourself,” he continues.

His mind is going crazy with all the things he wants to do to you, so he’s just going to say them out loud to give you a preview of what he’ll do to you.

“When we’ll be together, I’ll kiss you like a starved man. I’ll take my time to taste those sweet lips of yours before going down to your jaw, then to your collarbone until I reach your perfect breasts.”

You whimper, his name falling from your lips for the thousandth time tonight.

“I’ll suck and lick your nipples while you moan my name like you’re doing right now. And just as you did seconds ago, you’ll be begging me to touch you,” he halts for a second, his breathing heavier than ever. “As the weak man that I am, I’ll give in and give you what you want.”

He has dreamed of this so many times. He has jerked himself off—as right now—to the thought of you moaning his name while he fucks you nice and slow.

“I’ll kiss your pussy before sucking and licking it like my life depended on it,” he exhales softly, his voice only getting deeper and deeper. “And once you’re dripping on my tongue, I’ll push my fingers inside you, showing you no mercy.”

Now, his ears only hear you moaning and the sound of your arousal. It’s the sweetest melody he has ever heard.

“Right after you orgasm, I’ll push my hard dick inside you to fuck you nice and slow.”

He can hear that you’re very close to your orgasm. And that only makes him closer to coming shamelessly on his hand. This time around, he won’t be coming because of his wild imagination. He’ll be coming to the sound of your voice.

“Fuck, Guk,” you moan.

“As the perfect baby girl that you are, you’ll take everything that I give you. You’ll be moaning out loud while I fuck you over and over again.”

Well, he can’t keep talking as he’s moaning too. And well, he absolutely doesn’t care. He just moans to the sound of your voice.

“I’m gonna cum,” you tell him.

“Then come for me, sweetheart,” he barely manages to say. “Let me hear your pretty voice.”

And that’s it, you’re coming loudly, his name falling from your lips.

“Fuck,” he groans, “you sound so perfect.”

Right there and then, he ejaculates, deep groans leaving his lips. His hand goes still while he pushes his dick in it.

You're both breathing heavily, and none of you hangs up. You stay on the phone while recovering from this wild moment.

“Yn,” he whispers your name.

“Yes?” you reply.

“Next time I see you, I’ll fuck you for hours.”

“And I’ll let you do it.”

Now, Jungkook only wants to ruin you even though he hasn’t had sex in a very long time, and he probably doesn’t know how anymore. But man, he doesn’t care. All he cares about is hearing you moan his name over and over again.

The past week has been intense—exhausting, chaotic, and honestly? Torturous. But in the best way.

The library’s been busier than ever, and it’s becoming painfully clear that you need to hire someone to help. But every night, without fail, you’ve been on the phone with Jungkook. The conversations have gotten… interesting, to say the least.

Ever since that night—the one where you basically confessed how you felt—things escalated. Fast. You’ve had phone sex. More than once. And let’s just say: no one’s ever made you come that hard without even laying a finger on you. His voice? Dangerous. His dirty talk? Absolutely filthy.

And today? It’s game day.

Which means you’ll finally see him. In person. And you’re excited—probably just as excited as Hana was when she visited your library for the first time.

But you’re also a little nervous. Because if his voice alone can undo you… there’s no telling what will happen when you’re alone with him.

You’ve finally reached your seat located in the VIP area. The area where only close friends and family are allowed. It’s a bit weird to be here, but somehow, it makes you feel important. Like really important.

Jungkook explained to you how to access the area, especially since it was your first time. You’ll also get the opportunity to walk to the tunnels before the game ends, so you can see him right when he leaves.

The VIP area is already buzzing when you arrive, eyes following you as you find your seat. For a second, you feel like an outsider—like you’ve stumbled into a world you don’t quite belong to. But honestly? You couldn’t care less. You’re here for Jungkook.

So you give a polite little smile to the curious stares. Some of these people are probably insanely famous. Or ridiculously important. Or maybe both. But you don’t know any of them.

After a couple of minutes, the team bursts onto the field. The supporters instantly start clapping, screaming, and chanting. On TV, the noise already seemed huge, but in person, it seems electric. You can feel it in your bones.

Then, through all that chaos, Jungkook looks up. His eyes scan the stands until they lock on you. Just like he does when his daughter is present, he waves at you.

From an outsider's perspective, this would seem rather normal. But you know better. There’s nothing fatherly in the way he’s looking at you right now. It’s a slow burn—intense, direct, like he’s already undressing you in his head.

You try as much as possible to remain composed, but your pulse is racing. This right here makes it even clearer that after the game, things will get very heated between you.

And if this is how he looks at you in front of thousands of people, you can only imagine what’s coming after the last whistle.

Jungkook was a beast during the game. Nobody could stop him, not even a bit. He has scored more than usual, bringing his team to the victory. It was absolutely impressive, and it felt like old times. It felt like you were sixteen again, and Jungkook was a machine.

However, this time around, whenever he’d look at you, you wouldn’t look away. You’d look back at him with the same intensity.

Towards the end of the game, you’re almost panting because he’s looking hotter and hotter. Maybe, you can barely see him under the helmet, but you see enough.

“Jungkook is on fire,” someone says behind you. “Not sure why but I hope he keeps playing like that. We’ll win everything.”

A smile grows on your face as you hear those people talking behind you about the man that has been making your heart beats for years.

As you used to before, you’re only watching him. You’re not even following the game. You don’t even know and realize what’s going on, but you’re certain of one thing: he’s leading the team to victory.

Every time he scores, he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face, winks and finally waves. Your cheeks heat at his attention, and you get all shy, but it definitely warms your heart. It means more than you can put into words.

As the game edges toward its final minutes, you slip out of the VIP section and make your way toward the tunnels. Jungkook had asked you to wait for him there just like his daughter and mother always do when they come to watch him play.

The fact that he wanted you in that spot, part of that circle, made something warm settle deep in your chest. You couldn’t have said ‘no’ even if you’d tried.

You walk in the tunnel, the roar of the crowd still echoing through the stadium. Every cheer vibrates through the concrete, the sound wrapping around you in waves. Out here, it feels different—contained, heavy with anticipation. Your hands clutch the strap of your bag as you’re holding it with your dear life, your pulse already picking up even though the game hasn’t officially ended.

After this entire week of teasing and steamy phone calls filled with moans, it feels unreal that you’re finally going to be standing in front of him. You’re finally going to be with him, and lord knows what will happen. But you can’t wait to see him.

From your spot, you can glimpse the edge of the field. The clock is winding down. The noise swells, then explodes into deafening celebration. The game is over. Jungkook’s team has won, and the full stadium is cheering their victory. You can’t be prouder.

And then—he’s there.

Jungkook steps into the tunnel, helmet dangling from his fingers, hair damp. His chest is still rising and falling with the aftershock of adrenaline, the black streaks under his eyes making his gaze even sharper. For a moment, he scans the space, searching. Searching for you.

When he finds you, everything about him shifts. His posture straightens. His steps quicken. His eyes—God, those eyes—are locked on you, unblinking, like nothing else exists.

“Yn,” he says as he’s closing the last few feet between you.

You smile at him while you’re simply looking at each other, the world completely disappearing around you. There’s only you and Jungkook. Nobody else.

After all these years, he finally knows about your feelings for him. It makes you feel absolutely vulnerable because he could break your heart. Nevertheless, it feels like a heavy weight has been taken off your shoulders.

But what truly warms your heart is the fact that those feelings have been reciprocated all these years. Jungkook has always loved you more than a friend, and that changes everything.

“Guk,” you say.

“I’m happy you came,” he says with heavy breathing.

The way his eyes linger on you feels like he’s memorizing your face, afraid it might vanish if he blinks.

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitch, almost a smile, but there’s too much emotion in his gaze for him to hide it behind something casual. His hand comes up slowly, hesitating for a second before cupping your cheek. The warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb traces lightly along your skin, and you can feel his breath growing warmer as he leans closer.

It's absolutely clear what is about to happen, but it doesn’t frighten you. You’ve been dreaming of this since the moment you first met him. You’ve been dreaming of it since you’re sixteen so it’s definitely been a while.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his breathing caressing your lips.

You simply nod, knowing perfectly that your voice will betray you if you speak.

And then—his lips are on yours. It’s not tentative. It’s not a test. It’s a collision.

His mouth moves over yours with urgency, like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that could ever satisfy him. You taste salt and heat, his breath still fast from the game.

Your fingers clutch the front of his jersey, feeling the damp fabric, the solid wall of muscle underneath. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you closer—tighter—until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the thud of his heartbeat against your chest, matching your own.

The world around you fades—no crowd, no team, no cameras. Just the muffled roar in the distance and the way he’s kissing you like he’s afraid to waste another second.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. His thumb brushes your cheek, slow and almost reverent. His lips are still so close you can feel the ghost of his breath as he murmurs, low and certain: “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s kissing you again.

This time it’s slower, deeper—less the urgency of a first taste, more the ache of finally getting to savor it. His hand slips into your hair, fingers curling at the nape of your neck as his mouth moves against yours, coaxing rather than claiming.

You melt into him, your palms sliding up over the broad plane of his shoulders. The world is still there—teammates jogging past, the faint metallic clatter of equipment—but you couldn’t care less.

He tilts his head just slightly, changing the angle, and the kiss deepens. A low sound rumbles in his chest—half sigh, half growl—and you feel it reverberate through you.

When he breaks away, his thumb brushes over your lower lip like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His gaze locks with yours, heat simmering there, and you know this isn’t just a kiss—it’s a line you’ve both finally crossed.

Somewhere, someone calls his name, but he doesn’t look away. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Jungkook opens the door of his impressive apartment, but he doesn’t really give you the time to admire it. It’s crystal clear that he’s fucking desperate, and he only wants you to see his bedroom for now. Maybe later—or tomorrow— he’ll give you a little home tour.

Once inside his bedroom, he hungrily kisses you. His hands are everywhere on your body, worshipping every part of you. He’s touching what he’s been craving for a damn week, even more if he’s honest.

The kiss is intense, filled with hunger and passion. Somehow, it feels like you’ve been doing this for years when your first kiss only happened minutes ago. But damn, his lips are addictive. You could kiss them forever.

When he breaks the kiss, his lips get closer to your ear, whispering what his mind has been thinking of during the entire game.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you?”

You nod with no hesitation. There’s nothing else you’d want right now.

Your hands slide up his chest, greedy now, and your fingers trace the lines of his muscles under the shirt. He’s so bulky. You always knew it. You’ve seen him shirtless many times, but this time around, it feels different.

Your eyes are mesmerized by the way your fingers move along his chest, and Jungkook just takes in the view before him. He shivers at the contact of your hand on his body. It feels even better than in his wildest dreams.

“You look so pretty,” he says, voice low and teasing. “Got all dressed up for me?”

A smirk arises on his face while you look up at him. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. It takes you a couple of seconds to answer him.

Of course, you dressed up for him. You fucking knew what to expect after the game. You knew he’d ruin you after playing like a god on the field. But you wanted to impress him. To look good just for him. To look good before you have sex with him for the first time.

“Yes,” you finally say. “Black is your favorite color.”

When you first met him, he was constantly wearing black, which you found odd for someone so bright like him. So, one day you asked him why, and he simply said that it was his favorite color. And you never forgot it.

His heart flutters. He thought you’d forget it. That it was just a simple detail, but he’s starting to realize that you remembered every single detail just like he did.

“Fuck,” he swears before his lips find your neck.

His hands grip the back of your thighs and ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. The dress rides up shamelessly, bunching at your waist while he grinds against you—hard and getting harder.

Yes, he’s fucking desperate, and he doesn’t even hide it. He doesn’t want to. He wants you to see it. Feel it.

“I need this so bad, sweetheart,” he groans, rutting his hips against you. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

A chuckle leaves your lips, which causes him to tilt his head, looking up at you.

“I guess I can imagine,” you say, your hands cupping his cute cheeks. “I’ve been dreaming about this since I was sixteen.”

His eyes widen.

“Probably since the day we met.”

To say he’s surprised is an understatement. Yes, he’s been craving you with his entire soul since he was young, but probably like two or three months after meeting you.

“Do you remember that day?” you ask, your thumbs stroking the skin of his cheeks.

That simple touch comforts him in a way he can’t explain.

“How could I forget it?” he admits. “For sure, my chest didn’t forget how you hurt it.”

A smile grows on your face. His favorite smile.

“You were late for your swimming training, and I was warming up on the running track of our high school,” he says while he perfectly remembers that moment. One that shook his world completely. “You hit me so violently that we both fell on the floor.”

“And when you made sure I arrived safe and sound at my training, it’s when I fell in love with you,” you confess. “I had literally hurt you, but you didn’t care. And that meant a lot.”

Back then, Jungkook wasn’t yet the golden boy that he’d become. He was still training a lot to get better, but he was already a great player. His mind was only focused on improving. He’d train night and day. And then, after your embarrassing meeting, you trained together.

“And after that day, we’d run together every day,” he concludes.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago. So many things have happened since then, but one thing hasn’t changed. The way your heart burns for him.

One of his hands slides to your chest, his gaze locked on yours. His eyes watch the way you shiver under his touch. It’s the best feeling in the world. Without an ounce of hesitation, he pulls down the cleavage of your dress, revealing your red bra underneath.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Red looks good on you. Might be my new favorite color.”

Before he goes deeper, his gaze shifts up to you.

“Is sex safe with epilepsy?” he asks with concern. “Pleasure won’t be too overwhelming for you?”

His concern warms your heart. Your epilepsy is well under control now, so there’s nothing to worry about.

“No, everything will be fine, Guk,” you press a quick peck on his lips. “As long as you don’t push me to exhaustion and let me sleep after, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’ll be careful then,” he smirks. “I’ll let you sleep in between rounds, but I intend to go wild all night long.”

You shake your head with a bright smile on your face.

“You’re incredible,” you whisper before he intensely kisses you.

“I’ve been craving this all my life,” he murmurs, “and I intend to make it memorable.”

And then, he strips you out of your dress and unhooks your bra. He lets out a soft and filthy sound as he traces your nipples with his thumb. Then, he dips his head to suck at the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Guk,” you gasp.

Your mind keeps going to his hard cock pressed against your belly. He’s so fucking hard, and it’s turning you on incredibly. Your hand then slips between you two, pressing against the thick bulge in his pants and rubbing gently.

He hisses before his hands roam lower again, squeezing your ass harder this time. His eyes look down at you for a moment, appreciating the view before his hungry eyes.

“You’re so perfect,” he groans, his lips finding yours again for a filthy kiss. “So fucking perfect.”

And even though he regretted his entire life for not having confessed his feelings for you, he knows that this right here wouldn’t feel this great. All the longing is making this moment a hundred times better than if it had happened years ago.

Jungkook pushes you against his pretty big bed, and you gasp as you feel it pressed against the back of your thighs. His hands are everywhere now as he kisses you again. The kiss is hard, messy, and full of tongue. His hand slips between your thighs and pushes them apart. His fingers drag up the heat between your legs, over the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Fuck,” he breaths, pulling away. “You’re dripping.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a full week,” you admit.

As he did. The burning longing between you has been consuming you more and more as time goes by. Surviving this week with only phone sex was like training nonstop for days. It was nearly impossible.

And somehow, you don’t really know how, you get bold.

“I’ve been thinking how it’d feel to have your dick in my hands,” you whisper in his ear. “How it’d feel against my tongue, and how I’d suck it.”

“Do as you dreamed, sweetheart,” he growls, low and dangerous.

You get down on your knees while Jungkook pushes his pants down. You look up, your heart hammering and your breath shaky.

Yes, it’s about to happen. You’re about to engage in sexual intercourse with the man of your dreams. You’re literally about to blow him off.

When he frees himself, your eyes widen.

Fuck.

He’s thick and heavy, tip flushed and glistening, veins running the length like something carved out of marble. It should be a sin to possess such a cock.

“How?” you whisper.

He furrows his brows, not quite understanding your question.

“How did you contain this beast all this time?” you ask, eyes looking up to meet his.

He giggles as he wasn’t expecting this question.

“Don’t know,” he admits. “But it wasn’t easy when my mind would get lost on you.”

“Oh,” you simply say.

You wrap one hand around him, trying to understand how much you can fit in your mouth, and honestly, you don’t know how.

“Tell me what your mind would think,” you say as you lean in and lick a stripe from the base to the tip, your tongue tracing the curve of a vein.

The taste of him makes you moan. An honest and desperate sound that vibrates against him. He swears that he’ll come right now if you keep moaning like that.

“You’d be exactly like this,” he begins to say, his hand moving to your hair while his head falls back and his eyes close. “On your knees, your hand around my cock before you’d engulf it in your mouth.”

You wrap your lips around the head, following his words.

“Fuck—,” he groans. “You’d suck it like a good girl.”

You gently suck the tip, swirling your tongue. Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t take yet, which honestly is already a lot. Jungkook doesn’t dare to look down because he doesn’t want to come yet. It’d make him look like a weak man while he clearly wants to impress you tonight, even though he doesn’t know how. He hasn’t done this in a while.

“Just like in my dreams, you look so fucking pretty,” he groans. “Mouth full of cock…”

You moan again, louder this time, as you take more. Well, Jungkook is absolutely sure right now that he won’t last long. You’re the death of him.

“You’d even choke on it because of how big it is,” he continues.

Spit drips from the corners of your mouth while you suck him harder and deeper. Your makeup is probably starting to look like a mess, but you don’t care. You’re enjoying having him inside your mouth, and you even let yourself choke on it.

Jungkook looks completely wrecked. His lips are parted, chest rising like he’s barely holding on. The fact that he hasn’t had sex in a long time and the fact that you’re sucking him off are making him extremely sensitive.

You don’t know how, but you suck him even harder, your hands gripping his thighs now, and your cheeks hollow with every movement of your head. Nobody has ever driven him this crazy. The pleasure is taking full control of his body.

“Sweetheart—” he mumbles.

You can feel him getting closer and closer to his release. It’s in the way his body tenses and his cock throbs inside your mouth, and you really want him to come inside you. You want to taste him.

And just when he’s starting to tremble and your throat is getting used to it, he pulls you off with a wet and obscene pop.

“Don’t wanna come inside your mouth,” he admits. “At least not the first time.”

You’re a bit sad, though, but now, you’re closer to having his dick inside you, which excites you more.

Jungkook kisses you like a starved man, then spins you around to bend you over the bed. His eyes instantly move down to your soaked panties. He pulls them aside and wastes no time in sliding two fingers into you.

You cry out, your fists holding the soft and silky bedsheets like your life depended on it.

“That’s it,” he mutters. “Let me open you up, sweetheart.”

He fucks you with his fingers, slow and deep, while watching you fall apart in front of him. Jungkook bends down, his chest pressed against your back, and his fingers never stop torturing you.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl.”

Before Jungkook, you didn’t know you were into dirty talking. You actually never imagined yourself enjoying it. At least, your exes would never talk during sex. But he takes the dirty talking to another level. He could have you come just with his deep voice murmuring the deepest filth in your ear.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out to remove your panties. He then removes the only remaining piece of clothing from his body. Now you’re both naked. You look over your shoulder and admire the man behind you.

He’s a literal god.

It seems impossible to be this hot, and at this precise moment, you feel lucky that, amongst all people, he chooses you. His eyes meet yours, and the softest smile appears on his face. He looks so adorable in the middle of this filthy and steamy moment.

“Put your knees on the bed,” he gently slaps your ass.

You nod before following his instructions. You press your chest against his bed while you push your ass in the air. His hands instantly stroke your ass cheek.

“Please stop me if you don’t feel right, okay?” he asks.

“I told you that it’s safe,” you repeat what you said minutes earlier.

“I know,” he replies. “But I just want to make sure.”

He sounds like a baby, and that couldn’t make you melt more. He’s simply adorable. That’s unfair!

“I’ll let you know in case something happens,” you reassure him.

You bury your face in the bedsheets while his eyes remain on your body. His hand caresses your back, moving down to your ass.

The position is filthy. Your knees are spread wide, your back arched, your ass up in the air, while his fingers are back to teasing your folds. Your heart is hammering in your chest, waiting patiently for him to push his monster inside you. You’re not really sure if you’ll be able to handle it, but you just want him to stretch you out. To make love to you.

“You’re so beautiful, yn,” he whispers more to himself than to you.

He gently removes his fingers before looking through the drawers of the nightstand next to his bed. A couple of days ago, he bought condoms to be ready for when the real deed with you would happen. But he can’t seem to find them.

“Fuck, I can’t find the condoms,” he says with frustration.

You look behind you, watching him go a bit crazy as he searches for the condoms.

“It’s okay,” you softly reply. “I’m clean. I haven’t had sex for the past three years,” you explain.

Admitting that you haven’t been sexually active in so long makes you feel vulnerable, but you feel absolutely safe around him.

“I’m clean too,” he confesses. “Haven’t done anything in years.”

To say that you’re surprised is an understatement. How can Jungkook not have had sex in years? This man has been dating women over women for years now, and now, he’s telling you that he hasn’t done anything with them. That’s a shock.

“Really?”

He chuckles when he sees your surprised face.

“Yep,” he admits. “Nobody was ever worthy of my dick.”

Now, you’re the one chuckling. This sounds so like him.

“But we’re not going to talk about my lack of sexual activities for the past three years,” he adds as he steps closer to you, his body right behind you.

“It’s for sure something we need to discuss after,” you reply.

He shakes his head with the biggest smile on his face. He’s not sure he really wants to discuss that with you, but if you bring the topic to the table, he’ll be honest with you. He’ll tell you just how much he couldn’t fuck anyone if it wasn’t you.

“Are you on the pill?” he then asks.

“No,” you answer. “There was no need if I were single.”

And also, it’s not really recommended to take the pill when you’re under an epileptic treatment. Well, your previous partners always used condoms, so you’ve never really discussed the pill with your gynecologist.

“Right,” he nods. “So we will need to be careful.”

He rubs his shaft along your folds, coating himself with your arousal. Little moans leave your lips as you close your eyes, enjoying this sensation. He’s not teasing; he couldn’t do it. He’s simply preparing the two of you for what’s coming.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asks.

“I’m absolutely sure, Jungkook,” you answer.

And then, he pushes into you in one smooth stroke. Your cry is instant, fingers clawing at the sheets as he bottoms out. The stretch is almost impossible. He’s massive. He feels massive. But fuck, it feels so good.

You haven’t had sex in three years. But god, you missed it. Your body was calling for it. And now, you have it with none other than Jungkook, the guy you had a crush on for more years than you can count.

“You’re so big,” you say.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you reply as you turn your head to look at him. “It feels so good.”

“Really?”

While this man is so good at dirty talking, he sounds so innocent right now. Like it’s the first time he’s having sex. Like he’s about to lose his virginity. But in fact, he has a daughter, so he’s definitely far from being a virgin.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, giving you both time to adjust. This all feels new to you two, and well, your walls are swallowing him in a way nobody ever did before. You’re so tight around him, which could make him come undone right now.

And then, slowly, he starts to thrust into you. At first, he goes slow and deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. Moans leave both your lips as pleasure consumes you both. This feels marvelous.

“Yn,” he moans your name like a prayer. “You’re taking me so well.”

His praise causes pride to swell in your chest. Nobody ever said that to you. And honestly, it looks almost impossible to take him inside you, but you’re doing it. Like a good girl.

His thrusts slowly become more brutal, which makes you jolt forward, your breasts rubbing against the sheets with every bounce. The wet sounds between you are unforgivable, together with the loud moans leaving your lips.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he mutters. “Wayyy better.”

Then, Jungkook starts to show no mercy to you. His thrusts are absolutely wild, deep, and brutal, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. It feels so fucking good. The sound of his creaking bed starts the echo in the room while you get further lost in the kingdom of pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growls, his voice breaking between thrusts. “Taking my cock like you were made for me.”

Your fingers twist in the sheets as a shiver runs through you, the filthy praise making you grow wetter.

“I’ve thought about this for years,” he confesses, low and rough in your ear. “But nothing—nothing—compares to feeling you like this.”

His hand slides to your hip, gripping hard before pushing your back against him.

“You feel so fucking perfect. So tight. So warm. Like you never want to let me go.”

Your moan is answer enough, and his pace turns downright ruthless.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Let me hear you. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” he hisses, his hand wrapping around your throat.

Jungkook doesn’t tighten his grip; he just applies pressure on your throat. That alone makes you grow wetter, something that he feels as his dick pistons inside you. Your eyes roll back, the pleasure slowly becoming overwhelming.

“You like being choked,” he whispers in your ear. “Such a dirty girl.”

His words send shivers down your spine. This man has you literally wrapped around his fingers. He can make whatever he pleases with you.

“Luckily for you, I love dirty girls.”

He licks the inside of your ear, and god, you’re completely falling apart. But you wouldn’t have it in any other way.

You’re a complete moaning mess by now, only adding to the obscene symphony in the room—the creak of the bed, the wet slap of skin, the tangled chorus of your moans.

“So good,” you manage to say in between moans.

His eyes take a moment to look at you. Your body is trembling with every punishing thrust from behind, your breasts are bouncing at the rhythm of his thrusts, his hand is wrapped around your throat, and your back is pressed against his chest.

It’s a fucking sight he’ll burn into his memory.

His hand lets go of your throat, and you instantly fall forward. He slaps your ass, watching it jiggle. He goes deeper, his hips meeting your ass with a loud slap that echoes in the room.

Jungkook grips your hips tight and fucks you rough and fast now. He doesn’t show any mercy to you.

“Fuck—” he whimpers. “Wanna cum inside you so bad.”

“Do it,” you reply without any hesitation.

You pregnant with his child… Damn, there’s nothing in the world he’d like more. The simple thought brings him closer to the edge.

Fuck, he wants to get you pregnant so badly. He wants to lie in his bed with you in his arms and dick deep inside you, cockwarming you to sleep. And just to be sure it took, he'd give it to you again and again until it did. And then he’d give you more.

Until his balls were fully drained and the sheets beneath you soaked, a mix of both your juices sticky over your thighs and his belly, his cum leaking from your pounded out pussy.

The way you'd whimper when he'd gently finger it back inside you, scooping it up and massaging your clit with it, making you cry with overstimulation just to make you cum again with his seed-slicked fingers…

But he can’t.

Not right now.

“Not this time, baby girl,” he replies.

He’s driving into you so hard that it makes you see stars. The two of you are reaching your orgasm; you can feel it. Your legs are shaking, your moans completely out of control, while his thrusts are sloppy and deep.

Jungkook decides to help you out. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps slamming roughly inside you.

His fingers on your clit make you explode intensely, and you come hard around him. Your walls squeeze him over and over again while you come all over him. Jungkook doesn’t stop at all; he even speeds up his torturing pace. The coil in his lower stomach tightens, and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before he comes undone.

So he takes his cock, leaving a feeling of emptiness inside you, before he strokes it above your ass. He groans when his orgasm hits him hard, your name rolling off his tongue. His eyes roll back with pleasure, and his body tenses up, his sperm now falling over your ass cheeks.

You both collapse on his bed with heavy breathing. Jungkook rests next to you while his hand strokes your back. After a couple of seconds, he stands up to disappear into the bathroom. He comes back with a towel.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he says as he gently slaps your ass.

You whimper as he’s gently cleaning your legs and pussy. It feels good to be taken care of, especially from the guy you’ve had a crush on for years. Once he’s over with you, you turn around to look at him. A smile appears on his face when your eyes meet.

Your eyes flicker down to his hand that is cleaning his softened length with the towel. Flaccid, he almost looks ordinary—almost. But you know better. You’ve felt just how far from average he really is.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is low but edged with worry as his eyes search yours. He’s not asking out of politeness; he needs to know.

“Barely alive,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. But Jungkook doesn’t really smile. His brow stays furrowed, jaw tense, like he’s replaying every second in his head to check if he pushed you too far.

You rise onto shaky legs, your body deliciously sore, and step closer. Your fingers trace lightly over his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart under your touch.

“I’m really fine,” you whisper, softer now, wanting him to hear the truth in your voice. “This was… mind-blowing, yes. And sure, I might need a couple of days to recover from you…” you tease, lips curving. “But other than that, I feel good. I feel safe.”

His shoulders ease, just barely, but his gaze doesn’t waver from you. There’s still that flicker of fear in his eyes—that he might have hurt you, triggered something, missed a sign.

You cup his face gently. “Guk,” you murmur, “you could never hurt me. As I said before, everything is under control now.”

He simply nods before wrapping his strong arms around you. He’s definitely worried about you and probably will for a long time, but that’s only because he deeply loves you. He never wants to relive again the day he had to save you in the pool.

“Let me get us some water,” he whispers, his lips getting closer to yours to press the most gentle kiss.

As he leaves the room, you take a look around. His bedroom is impressive, like anything else about him, and surprisingly, it’s not devoid of decoration. Of course, he chose darker colors for the wall painting, but it feels like him. Being here is the same as being cuddled by him.

There are pictures of Hana everywhere. In some, she’s just days old. Some other, she’s a couple of months old. In some other, she’s already two. And there’s one on his nightstand. It’s your actual favorite. He’s holding her on his shoulders, and they have the brightest smiles.

“That picture was taken a year ago,” his voice comes from behind you, warm and low. “On her birthday.”

Jungkook steps closer, handing you the glass of water.

“Thanks,” you murmur, fingers brushing his as you take it and sip. “It’s a really good picture.”

He places his glass of water on the nightstand before his hands wrap around your waist, his head placed on your shoulder.

“It’s nice having you here,” he whispers.

You smile, but you don’t dare to look at him. You know you’ll fall even more for him, or worse, you’ll get on your knees.

“It’s nice to be here, too,” you reply.

Jungkook peppers your neck with kisses while you close your eyes, your hands wrapping tightly around the glass of water. As his kisses start to move to your jaw, little and barely audible moans leave your lips. Slowly, his bulge grows against your back. No doubt where this is going.

“Round 2?” he whispers against your jaw.

Things have completely changed since Jungkook came back into your life. Everything is lighter now, as if some invisible weight has been lifted off your chest.

You even stopped fighting him in the library. Eventually, you accepted his financial help, and now it’s thriving even more, which you didn’t think was possible. Every day, when you walk in and see more people, more laughter, more books in readers’ hands, you’re reminded that he didn’t just save the library—he saved a piece of you, too.

And it’s not just you who’s thriving. Since you’ve been back in his life, Jungkook’s been sharper, faster, hungrier on the field. The fans call it his best season yet, and every time he throws that perfect pass or crushes another record, he swears it’s because of you. He says you’re in his head before every snap—your smile, your laugh, the sound of your moans keeping him steady and reckless all at once.

But the real change happens at night. Behind closed doors, your world narrows to him—the rasp of his voice, the heat of his skin, the relentless way he claims you over and over again. Your bedrooms have become sanctuaries of fire and whispers, where moans echo against the walls, skin slaps in frantic rhythm, and headboards knock like desperate applause.

Sex has never been like this before. It’s not just good—it’s consuming. He doesn’t just fuck you; he ruins you, bends you until you’re trembling and begging, only to drag another orgasm out of you when you swore you had no more to give. He never seems to tire. Sometimes he teases you slow, murmuring filth against your ear until you’re dripping and desperate. Other times, he takes you like a man starved, pounding into you until you can’t think of anything but him.

And the craziest part? Every time, he makes you feel like this is the best he’s ever had. Like nothing else has ever compared. His praise is endless—you’re so fucking tight, yn… look at the mess you’re making for me… taking me so good, baby—and the more he talks, the hotter it gets.

Still, when it’s over, when your bodies are tangled together, slick with sweat and trembling, there’s a softness in the way he holds you that no words can match. The man who spends his days destroying defenses and his nights destroying you is the same man who pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head, and whispers like you’re his whole world. And that, more than anything, is why everything feels better now.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #always love #spideyjimin

1K notes · View notes

soulsforsales · 2 days ago

Text

How the Batboys would react if you broke no contact (ft. brucie wayne, dickiebird, and jaybaby)

notes: they just miss you, okay? give ‘em a break!!! i also wanted to write Tim but I’m on my periods and got so lazy sorry guys^^

Bruce Wayne

Bruce is sitting in another Wayne Enterprises meeting, half listening to whatever the clients are saying, half repeating your words in his head.

you have refused to contact him after the last fight you two had. it has been five days—and yes, he’s been counting. every day, every minute, every second he has to face this torturous no contact phase. why won’t you just yell at him instead?

Bruce has tried distracting himself with bat business and new cases. he even tried meeting up with clients and attended three stupid meetings exactly like this one. yet, you’re always in the back of his mind.

you said he wasn’t allowed to call you unless you called first. that you needed space. that he never admitted his faults and you were getting tired.

that threw him off a lot more than he cared to admit. and although he respects your privacy, space and rules, his patience is running thin.

Bruce half-heartedly nods at whatever the man is saying when his phone vibrates. it’s embarrassing how fast he picks it up and what’s even more embarrassing is the way his chest tightens when he spots your name on the screen, a photo of you hugging a golden retriever and practically beaming stares back at him.

he’s getting up before he even realises it, leaving the meeting and ignoring every protest.

“hello? baby?” Bruce speaks as soon as he’s halfway to the door.

“hi,” your voice is small and tired, like you missed him as much as he missed you. “hope you aren’t busy—“

“not at all, angel,” Bruce cuts you off, shaking his head at no one. “can we talk? please?”

there’s a moment of silence from your side, making him swallow uneasily, “yeah. i’d like that.”

and just like that, Bruce feels better than he’s felt in the last five days. he smiles, already walking out of the building. “good. pick you up in ten.”

Dick Grayson

Dick is out with Wally at some shitty diner in Bludhaven, trying not to sulk as he dips his fries in ketchup and takes a bite. it was Wally’s idea. he thought it would be good for Dick to get out after he’d been holed up in your shared apartment ever since you two had a fight and you left. Wally had also been tired of listening to Dick rant about the same thing over and over but he doesn’t need to say that. he can just be a good, supportive friend right now. besides the food seems to shut up his best friend for at least ten minutes.

“i just don’t get it!” or so he thought.

Wally sighs, “i dunno man. she’ll call you back. you—“

“yeah. she always does.” Dick cuts him off, taking a sip of his drink, shrugging like he’s unbothered by the whole situation and hasn’t been checking his phone every five seconds.

“and when she does. don’t just pick up at once,” Wally suggests, leaning in, face serious. “let it marinate, y’know? let her see she can’t just get away with it.”

Dick nods, “oh yeah. no way. i am not picking it up, man.”

a minute later, Dick’s phone rings and it’s next to his ear before Wally can even blink. and he’s one of the fastest men alive.

“hello? babe?”

“damn.” Wally can’t help but shake his head, taking a huge bite of his burger.

Dick doesn’t seem to care, ignoring him as he shifts slightly so he doesn’t have to deal with the disappointed look on his best friend’s face. “yeah? yes! baby, I’m sorry. it was all my fault— wait—you’re coming back?! you are!?”

Wally just blinks and Dick smiles like a man who just won the lottery. “no, no, no. i’ll pick you up. i’ll be there. don’t you worry, sweet cheeks.”

Dick puts the phone down, getting up already. “We’ll have to cut this short—“

Wally scoffs, waving his hands dramatically, “dude!? seriously?”

Dick flashes him a grin, “you’ll understand when you’re in love too, my man.”

and with that, he’s sprinting down the road like everything is right in the world because you’re talking to him again. and yeah, that’s exactly how he it is for him.

Jason Todd

the apartment is empty. you left after yet another fight. it was jason’s fault, it always is. and even if it wasn’t—he should’ve stopped you. but no—his stupid pride got in the way.

you told him there would be no contact. he thought you were just angry. but now that it’s been a week of radio silence from you, he’s beginning to realise you meant that.

you told him you were getting tired of his antics and excuses. you asked him to spend more time around. to be there. to make you feel like you were more than just a place holder. and he’d snapped like you asked the world of him.

he couldn’t even blame you for leaving and asking for space. he deserved it. but that didn’t stop him from missing you. and that definitely didn’t stop him from calling your phone fifteen times before he realised you actually are ignoring him.

and yeah, he kinda deserves that too.

but why do you need space? why not fight it out instead??why leave him all alone and miserable???

Jason had rather have you angry and mean than not have you at all.

he’s laying on the couch now, phone face up on the coffee table in a quiet hope that you’d call him up. there’s something sad playing from the tiny bluetooth device you got him.

Jason might act all tough and strong but at the end of the day, he‘s just lying in his living room, listening to sad breakup music like some angsty teenager because his girlfriend established no contact.

he’s just about to pick up the phone and start looking through your pictures to hone the ache in his chest when it rings.

and he jumps. practically jumps into a sitting position and picks it up, palm going to his chest because of how loud his heart is beating.

god, he really, really hopes you aren’t going to break up with him.

“Jason?” your voice is like honey and velvet to his ears, going straight to his heart.

“hello? yeah?” Jason would like to cry and beg for you to come back and let him make it up to you but he holds back. for now.

there’s some shuffling at your end before you sigh. “i miss you.”

Jason breathes like the air didn’t quite make it to his lungs until now. “yeah? god, babe, i miss you too. so much. please come back. we can talk it out. i’ll fix it.”

“yeah, I’m coming back.” you admit, and Jason smiles, relief flooding him.

“yes. yes, please—no, wait, I’m picking you up. I’ll be there. okay? don’t—don’t worry. I’ll be there in five.”

he’s already putting on shoes by the time you hang up. and quietly promising himself to never let you leave ever again. he probably won’t survive losing you.

818 notes · View notes

sukunahs · 2 days ago

Text

sukuna eating you out with his stomach mouth while you suck him off cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, blow job, 69

Sukuna had you whining, squirming as you sat atop his abdomen, the monstrous tongue from the mouth on his belly lapping enthusiastically at your pussy. You were facing away from him, not allowed to gaze upon him right now, not when you were being punished.

It felt like you’d been at this for ages, slick with both your own juices and his saliva, stomach tightening in desperation for relief. But he wasn’t keen on giving it to you. He knew your limits well, and each time he felt you dangling on the precipice he pulled you right back, withdrawing his tongue and letting you feel his absence, waiting for you to beg him to continue.

And beg you did, because Sukuna was completely in control here. Even as his wife you weren’t his equal, he owned you, was free to play with you in any way that he saw fit. And right now he wanted you to suffer, wanted to punish you for smiling at one of his stupid advisers in the throne room.

You were just being polite, but that wasn’t how Sukuna saw it. No, it was important that he put you in your place, reminded you that the only person you should be smiling at was him.

Sukuna’s tongue was pressing at your opening, a soft cry leaving your lips as his big hands on your hips forced you down onto the tip of it, the stretch making your eyes water.

“That’s it woman, take it for me.”

You whimpered at his words, the praise sending more slick dripping down your thighs as he buried his tongue deeper into you, lifting you a little and dropping you back down on it a few times, laughing at the feeling of you tightening around him in need only for him to pull back once more, your pathetic little cry of frustration making him harder than ever.

His cocks were leaking precum at this point, desperate for attention. The enjoyment of seeing you all riled up almost had him giving up on this little game, the more animalistic side of him desperate to press you down into the sheets and fuck buckets of cum into you until you were begging him to stop.

But he needed to be patient, because you’d like that too much, and he was supposed to be punishing you.

“Want me to let you cum, whore?” He asked, gripping your hair harshly and tugging your head back, voice rasping against your ear as he sat up a little.

“Please- I promise I’ll be good Kuna, please.”

He chuckled at how well you’d taken to begging, always adoring the sound of that pretty voice asking him for more. And to think you’d been so terrified of him when you’d first met, look how far you’d come - completely drunk on him.

“Mmm, how about you prove it?” With his free hand he reached around to his cocks, presenting them to you. “Get sucking, little whore.”

You leant forward, hands bracing against his thighs for balance for a moment, before wrapping your fingers around his lower cock. You were always a little daunted at the prospect of taking him in your mouth, but still willing to give it your best shot.

You gave the top cock a few kitten licks, the taste of Sukuna’s salty pre-cum filling your mouth, before steeling yourself and wrapping your lips around his girthy member. As soon as you’d taken him into your mouth he let out a satisfied hum and continued to lap at your pussy with his stomach mouth, the sensation sending a shiver through your body.

“Shit, that’s itttt.” He purred, enjoying the sight of you bent forward in front of him like this, your ass on full display to him as he watched you work his cock down your throat.

Your lips on his cock had him feeling like he was in heaven, the sensation of your tongue skimming along the underside of his shaft was otherworldly. He was so proud of just how well, how deep, you managed to take him now, letting out a groan as he felt his tip graze the back of your throat.

You were jerking his other cock quickly with your hand, careful to ensure that you were giving it the attention it deserved. It was your job to ensure that you were always worshipping both cocks - Sukuna had punished you in the past for forgetting such a thing.

He still had two hands on your hips, grinding you against his tongue, laughing at the way that your whole body was shaking with each pass of the wet appendage. He could feel your mouth constricting around him, saliva dripping down his shaft as you struggled to stay focussed.

“Feel good, whore? Wanna cum?”

You let out a sound around his cock, but it was totally unintelligible. He knew that it was a yes, but he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily.

“What was that? Didn't quite hear you.”

This time your please came out with much more clarity. Still garbled around his cock, but loud and desperate enough that he knew exactly what you wanted.

“Make me cum then.” He hissed, and you let out a little noise of desperation but it was clear that you were doubling down on your efforts, swirling your tongue around his tip, bobbing your head faster up and down his cock, adjusting your hand movements to match your head.

You were doing such a good job and it had him spilling into you in no time, emptying one cock deep into your throat while the other released all over your face, coating you in his cum. It was a sight that he loved to see, proof that you were his.

“Good girl.” He praised gently as you swallowed his load like an obedient little pet, bringing one of his hands round to play with your clit now that you’d given him what you wanted, fingers and tongue working at your pussy in tandem until he sent you screaming over the edge, coming undone completely on top of him.

He didn’t give you a moment of respite before he was pushing you off him, driving his cock deep into you as he shoved you down into the sheets.

“Stay still, whore. I’m not done with you yet.”

a/n: hope you enjoyed this piece that’s been sat in my drafts for ages <3

sweet tooth enjoyers I hope to have a new chapter with you halfway through next week but I’m having a rough time rn so we’ll see how it goes!

sukuna perma taglist (send me an ask to be added or removed): @lav4mpira @seellove @cutesytwt @gojodickbig @yuujispinkhair @somos-things @poopooindamouf @yeagersss @paradisestarfishh @jennilynn63 @tthhaattgguuyy27 @bexxli @being-blue-is-better @summerthesim @tisuruxx @juliarchiv3s @naluloverrrrrr @dishs0pe @plutoxxxworld @5kkalara @serenadesvt @00frenchfries00 @warriorofenlightenment @scarlet-issilly @himbosexual @pousivuitton @ksjtozaki @certainfanpoetry @gojoscumslut @ynishalee @nakiich @chaos-4baby @t4ters @sukubusss @pandabiene5115 @solarlovesxyz @fysalia @goofiebags5678 @yarimarjane @aayeonas @christinezz33 @dreeaambiigstuuff-blog @trafalgarlaw-wife @raspberryvv @i0lovepink00 @sunqi053 @makeaflowerbloom @iaminsanelmfao @sophiethelesbian

555 notes · View notes

songbirdseung · 3 days ago

Text

CRUSHIN ON THE COWORKER - PARK SUNGHOON

REQUESTED BY AN ANON “you’re not getting rid of me that easily, y/n.” ⋆˚࿔ prompt requested: downbad coworker sunghoon whose crush on u is painfully obvious ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ i love writing requests for you guys, just as much as i love writing downbad!sunghoon

“good morning, y/n.” it was the first thing you heard the moment you stepped into the company building, and you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. sunghoon was already there, leaning casually against the front desk, holding out a steaming cup of coffee like an intern delivering orders except he was very much not your intern. he was your co-associate in the department, your equal in rank… but apparently not in self-control when it came to hiding a crush.

sunghoon was always like this. on point. on time. effortlessly put together and not just passionate about his work but very obviously, painfully, passionate about you.

you had told him before, gently but firmly, that you didn’t date coworkers. past experience had taught you better. the messy breakups, awkward office tension, whispered gossip in the break room. you weren’t about to do that again. but sunghoon? he wasn’t the type to give up.

every monday, without fail, there was a new bouquet waiting in your office sometimes roses, sometimes tulips, sometimes something you didn’t even know the name of, but always fresh and vibrant. they’d arrive before the previous week’s flowers had even wilted.

every other day, he’d treat you to lunch. sometimes it was a quick sandwich run, other times a carefully packed bento with a handwritten note stuck to the lid. and speaking of notes, you’d find them on your monitor, tucked under a folder, scrawled neatly in pen: you’re the best part of my workday. or this color looks amazing on you today.

it was flattering and you weren’t going to lie about that. what made it even harder to brush off was that sunghoon knew exactly where to draw the line. he never pushed too far, never invaded your space, never crossed into anything that felt creepy or overbearing. he was just… there. steady, consistent and sweet.

you were still cautious, still keeping that mental wall up between you, when he caught you in the hallway one afternoon.

“sunghoon, i already told you-”

“and i already told you,” he said smoothly, that infuriatingly calm smile tugging at his lips, “i’ll wait for you.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but then you made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes. they were dark, warm, unwavering and the words dissolved before they could leave your tongue.

“you’re not getting rid of me that easily, y/n.” his voice was quiet, almost gentle, but there was a certainty in it that made your pulse skip.

sunghoon was down bad for you. everyone could see it but somehow… he made it look so damn good.

even during the after office hours, he was there to stick by you.

you didn’t even notice him at first, not until a shadow fell across your desk. “you’re still here?” sunghoon standing there with his blazer draped over one arm, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. his hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and the sight was… frustratingly unfair.

“i had reports to finish,” you said flatly, eyes flicking back to your monitor. “you should go home.”

although he didn’t budge. instead, he set down a cup beside your mousepad. it was your coffee order, except this time iced, because he knew you liked it that way at night.

“i’m not leaving until you do,” he said simply. “so either finish up and let me walk you out… or i sit here until you cave.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“persistent,” he corrected, sliding into the chair across from your desk like he belonged there. he leaned back, stretching his long legs out comfortably, watching you with that same infuriatingly calm gaze.

“you don’t have to babysit me, sunghoon.”

“i’m not,” he said easily. “i just like being here, with you."

“you know... i meant it. i’ll wait. no matter how long it takes.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time… you didn’t have an immediate retort.

#enhypen #engene #enhypen imagines #enha #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon au #jake #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff

505 notes · View notes

lovelyhavenn · 3 days ago

Text

THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG | JOHNNY STORM X READER

Summary: your boyfriend cheated on you. And now you found yourself against Johnny's bedroom door, his lips on you, while he tells you how he will never do what your boyfriend did to you. In the middle of having your body tangled with johnny, your boyfriend called you and johnny answered the call, letting your pathetic little boyfriend hear how loud you scream Johnny's name.

Warning/tags: cheating(not johnny), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, tears(from pleasure), sex while johnny is talking with your boyfriend in the phone, moreee

You weren't supposed to be here. Just a few moments ago you came to johnny, crying with your mascara smudged under your eye but now you have your back against his bedroom door with his lips on yours like he needed you, like you both need each other more than oxygen. He kissed you like he waited for this for years, because he did. Johnny storm loved you since college, and he craved for this moment.

Your fingers clutched on his shirt like you were afraid of letting go because maybe letting go means he disappears, you didn't want him to disappear. His lips moved against yours with hunger, like he didn't just simply want this but he needs this.

You weren't proud of this, especially when the reason you came here was because of your boyfriend. Your boyfriend that tells you how much he misses you yet you found him kissing another girl in a restaurant. You cried in Johnny's arms, he was mad, beyond mad that someone, someone that you chose made you cry. He wouldn't even dare to make you cry, so why would an asshole make you cry.

But right now? The guilt was buried underneath. You couldn't feel the guilt, all you can feel is Johnny's lips doing magic, his hands touching you carefully, taking his time trailing his fingers in your body like he's trying to memorize this moment.

"You know... I'd never do that you," He said, voice low, almost shaking and vulnerable. He held your cheek, breathless, eyes glassy. "Not once. Not ever. "

Your throat tightens, like something is stuck. But you would be lying if you say that you didn't feel anything. You did, all sort of things. It was like your heart relaxed, you felt peace, or maybe ease.

"Johnny... " You whimper, feeling his hand squeeze your waist. Hearing you say his name made his knees week, made his heart thump, everytime you say his name it affects him, it makes his stomach turn because you weren't his girl.

" I've watched that asshole hurt you, treat you less than you deserve. And you keep telling me, you kept telling yourself that you're okay." His thumb brushed against your cheek, soft and delicate, a fragile and careful touch that didn't match the intensity of your kiss earlier. "But baby, you're not fine. And i fucking hate him, you know? I hate him for making you believe that you deserve all that shit that he puts you through."

His words hit hard, not because it was johnny storm who was telling you this. But because you almost believed that you deserve less than what you deserve, you settled for it, that it's the best form of love you can ever receive, and johnny pulled you just in time to make you stop believing that, because Johnny makes you feel that you deserve the world.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, your breathing getting uneven, small pants leaving your lips. "Hey... " Johnny lift your chin up, making you look at him.

"You deserve all the love that the world can offer because you have a good heart. I've loved you since college, ever since you threw a book at my head." He said, with a small smile that he didn't even try to hide. You chuckled softly, remembering how you threw a book at Johnny's head. "I'm not asking for more. I just want to know that don't settle for him, because there's someone out there who's willing to give you more than what he can give. I'm hoping that someone will be me, but not now, at your own pace... " He tucked your hair behind your ear, it was slow and delicate, the way his touch lingered was like an electric touch that you didn't want to stop.

The truth is, johnny wasn't just a friend. You felt more but never acted on it. It wasn't just a simple college friendship, stolen glances, late-night road trips or late night talks, he actually saw you.

Without hesitation, you tiptoed, holding his face in both your hand while it slowly slips to his nape, pulling him closer to press a kiss on his lips. He kissed you with the same intensity, playing with the rhythm of your lips, savoring the moment, not because you were trying to forget someone but because deep down you knew that Johnny's right for you, he's been here all along.

"God..." He paused, lips inches away from you. "Tell me to stop and i will... " He whispered, hoping that you won't say stop. you didn't, instead you kissed him again harder this time, you tugged on his hair that made him gasp and smirk, his teeth clashed against yours and his tongue danced with yours. You played with his hair when he suddenly lifted you up, his hands gripped your thighs firm and steady, you held his cheeks while you lowered your head just to kiss him again.

You moaned against his lips when he squeezed your thighs, slowly walking over to his bed then he layed you down gently, positioning himself in between your legs while he lowered himself, his arm supporting his body. He lets his finger trace your face, your features as if he didn't look at you everytime that he can.

"You're so beautiful, baby... " He whispered, letting you hear the vulnerability of his voice, the usual level of sarcasm and playfullness gone, it's just him and his admiration for you. "You don't deserve a love that makes you question yourself... " He pressed a soft kiss in your lips, one hand on your cheek while he supports himself up.

"Johnny... " You call, feeling his thumb brush over your tear stained cheeks with mascara on it. He hummed, still wiping the mascara that smudged on your face. "Want you... " You whimper, feeling yourself getting soaked just by feeling his fingers on your face and how his hair was messy from tugging on it. His eyes softened, pressing another kiss on your temple.

"Want me, baby?" He asked, soft warm breathe against your skin. You nodded, desperate for him, wanting to feel him. "Then you'll get all of me, baby. " He says, Smiling at you, shifting his position so he can pull his shirt off, throwing it somewhere. His hair got messed up even more from his shirt, you can see light scars on his body from battles, you let yourself trace your fingers over them, making Johnny's breathe hitch because of the coldness of your touch.

"Can i take this off?" He asked, slowly playing with the hem of your shirt. You hummed, nodding your head, "yes please, johnny... " You said, voice soft yet a little breathier than usual. He unbutonned your top with one hand, swiftly unbuttoning them with ease. "Wow... Fucking beautiful, so beautiful, baby." He cursed under his breath, praising you like a goddess, like he's in disbelief that this is happening. He threw your top away, along with your bra, your tits sits nicely, perked and plump.

Johnny bit his lips, looking at the fire tattoo just under your boob. It was a dare back when he got his powers, you lost a challenge and he dared you to get a fire tattoo. He never knew where you placed it until now, it made him harder, feeling his cock twitch inside his ridiculously tight pants. It got even tighter when he touched your tattoo and you arched your back, feeling your hand on his while he feels your tattoo.

"Fuck... You're killing me right here, baby... " He chuckled under his breathe. He lowered himself, his face just inches away from your tits. His fingers brushed past your tits, your nipples got hard from the contact, his eyes fully on your tattoo. His chest rises, looking deep in your eyes when his lips met your tattoo. He kissed it slowly, rubbing his thumb over it before kissing it again, wet and delicate. His hand slipped inside your pants, your chest rises when you felt him touch your clit, your head thrown back.

"Ohh—fuck!" You squirmed, feeling his fingers enter your hole, your wetness immediately coating his fingers that let him swiftly move his fingers to thrust deep in you, curling it inside of you, letting his fingers move against your gummy walls. You closed your eyes, shut and tight, biting your lips until they started bleeding, your toes curled and legs moving uneasy because of the pleasure.

"Open your eyes, baby, let me see 'em. Wanna see your eyes, baby." Johnny said, his fingers already giving you too much pleasure, he scissors his fingers inside you. You open your eyes, looking deeply at his, your eyes soft and fucked from pleasure. Soft flames appearing on his shoulders. It turned you on even more, seeing flames on his shoulders while he fingers you until your legs became a trembling mess.

"So good, johnny... Shit, fuck! Mhmmm just like that... " You hissed, arching your back once more when you felt his fingers deep inside of you, warming it up while he thrust them inside of you. Your pants drenched from your wetness while johnny started increasing his pace, you clenched around his fingers.

"You like that, baby? He never made you feel so good, huh?" He asked, still thrusting his fingers deep in you, he has one goal in mind and that is to make you feel good. He sees your legs trembling, your chest rising up and everytime it does he sees your tattoo, making it hard for him to stay calm. "I'll make you feel so damn good that you'll forget about him." He adds, jaw clenched, it pisses him off everytime he talks about your boyfriend.

"Don't c-care about him!" Your voice cracked, orgasm building up. "I want you, just you. Fuck—" Your voice broke when Johnny thrusted his fingers hard, rough and fast, it made you cry, made you tremble even more, it was just so good, his thumb brushes over your clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes, johnny, you're so good—" You let out a high pitched moan, filling up his room with your sinful cries of pleasure. "Gotta cum—"

"Let go, baby, i got you. I got you, always... Always, baby." And you let go. You didn't hold back, you released your orgasm on his fingers, coating his fingers with your cum. He looked at you with amusement, seeing your cum on his fingers made him weak, it made him want more. He sucked on his cum coated fingers, letting you see how he enjoyed your release. "Fucking sweet, shit... You're so sweet, baby. Tell me what you want, I'll give everything to you."

"Want you, please... Want you, johnny. Hard... Can't wait, anymore-"

"Yeah, want me, baby?" He asked, already unbuckling his belt, pulling his jeans down. His cock sprung out, red and leaky, vein already popping mad. He saw how you drooled, how you looked at his cock with eagerness, with hunger. "Like what you see, baby? All for you, I'm all for you." He said, unbutonning your pants too. He pulled your pants down too, panties already see through. You were still wet, cum still covered your cunt, he scooped some out and tasted it once more, licking his fingers clean.

"Fuck—" He groaned, stroaking his cock while looking at your figure below him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. You bit your lips, craving for him, johnny storm. "Breathe for me, baby, okay? Slowly, good girl, such a good girl f'me... That's it, baby." He says, slow and steady like he's trying to guide your breathing to match his, soft and slow he lined his cock on your hole, slowly pushing himself in you.

"Oh— fuck! Johnny... Johnny... " You screamed his name, feeling his cock split you into two. He was careful, so careful when he pushed himself in you, but he was also big, huge and has girth. You bit your lips, back arched, head thrown back against the pillow. "Baby, I'm here...a little bit, almost there." He says, trying to soothe you, half of his cock already in you yet you already felt so full.

Johnny groans, pants at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, and you clench against his cock, squeezing him even more. "Fuck... So fucking tight—" He cursed under his breathe, finally pushing all of him inside of you. He rests his head on your shoulder, softly sucking on your delicate skin, leaving red marks all over your neck, marking you.

"So good, johnny... Fuck— i feel so fucking full... " You whined, grinding your hips against his cock, feeling his cock move inside you while you grind against him. You held onto his shoulder, one hand on his hair, fingers running against his messy hair. It made johnny crazy, he moaned against your neck, slowly moving his hips to thrust deep inside of you. It made you gasped, catch air when he started thrusting in you, finding the rhythm that you want.

"Fuck baby, so tight... I'll give you everything i have and you don't even have to ask... Oh shit," He groans, feeling you clench around him when he promised you the world. He lifted his head up to fully look at your face, you pushed his hair back, hands on both his cheek.

"All i need is you Johnny... " You confessed, his cock twitched inside of you.

"And you'll get all of me, I'm yours, baby." He pressed a kiss on your lips, kissing you slowly like he's matching it with his thrusts. he's taking his time making you feel every pleasure, every bit of his love, and every bit of him.

"Harder, J..." You let out a soft whimper, and it turned into a gasp when he started increasing his pace, fucking you harder where every thrust your body jolts upward, every thrust your tits bounced, every thrust you rolled your eyes back and every thrust your moans got louder. Johnny held your hips, slamming his cock deep inside of you, still careful and attentive to every bit of your reaction, making sure he's not hurting you.

Suddenly, your phone rings. Your phone was close to Johnny's reach, he looked and saw the called id. It was your boyfriend, sending you a bunch of messages, spamming your phone with calls and messages, begging you to talk to him.

"Fucking asshole." Johnny cursed, brows furrowed and angry. He reached for your phone and answered it.

"Babe, you answered. Let me explain-" Johnny cuts your boyfriend off, not letting him talk further.

"She's busy, we're busy." Johnny said, panting, still slamming his cock deep inside of you while you kept saying his name over and over again because of the pleasure, the sound of skin slapping together was heard.

"What do you mean? Who's this? Give y/n her phone back." Your boyfriend demanded, johnny scoffed at that request.

"You're fucking talking to johnny storm. And i told you, she's busy." Johnny said, fucking you hard that your voice hitched, you kept moaning, screaming his name.

"Busy doing what?"

"We're busy fucking, unless you want to hear how i make my girl moan my name loud, how i can make her tremble for pleasure and you couldn't because you're stupid." Johnny teased, sarcasm and honesty floating in his voice. He smirked, hearing how mad your boyfriend got, it's like he won against your boyfriend.

"Fuck you-"

"Yeah, we're in the middle of fuckin. So if i were you I'd hang up the call, oh fuck baby, cleanching on me— you like that, yeah? When i tell your pathetic little boyfriend how good i make you feel." Johnny paused for a moment, focused on making you feel good. "You still here, asshole? You really want to hear huh?" Johnny asked, smirking, johnny moved the phone over to you and one more thrust it got you screaming his name loud, your legs trembled and your voice sounded so strained.

"fuck, johnny! Fuck... Shit, so good! johnny!"

"There she is, you heard that, douchebag? Bye, we're busy." Johnny laughed, tossing your phone aside, he didn't hang up the call, he lets your boyfriend listen while he fucks you so good. Your boyfriend was fuming, hearing you cry, moan loud while johnny fucks you, you never did that for him, you never screamed his name while he fucks you, because he didn't fuck you good, all he thought about was his own pleasure.

"I'll never let him get to you again, he needs to pass me first before he can get to you." Johnny promised, his cock twitching inside of you, his orgasm already building up just by seeing your face all pretty for him. "Fuck—you really do like it when i tell him how good I'm making you feel, huh?" He teased, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

"You m-make me feel so...so good, johnny! Fuck- only you can make me feel like this." You cried, fat tears streaming down your face while johnny kisses them all away, watching your fucked out face with soft eyes. "Cum... Gonna cum... " You cried even more, Johnny's fingers increased its pace with rubbing circles on your clit.

"Me too, baby... Me too. Cum on my cock, drench it baby, you deserve it for being such a good girl for me. let's do it together, yeah?" You nodded, tears spilling down your face even more. Your voice, your moans got higher and more strained, arching your back when you felt your orgasm spilling, squirting, making a mess on his cock. He groans, feeling you squirt against him, he's amused, grinning while he effortlessly fucks you, driving you to overstimulation, still fucking you hard after your orgasm with his twitching cock.

You kept clenching around him that's driving him insane, his eyes shots close for a moment then he blinks, looking deeply at your flushed fucked out face, moaning his name loud while you wrapped your legs around his waist, toes curled. You pulled him closer, hands on his nape when you kissed him, messy, sloppy and eager, spit everywhere while his tongue links with you.

He gasped in your lips, whispering a strained, "baby... Fuck—" When he's deep inside you, buried, spilling his load inside you. He caressed your hair, while he groans loud against your lips, pelvis against yours, chest rising violently, his cock twitching every second he spills his cum inside you.

You both take the time to catch your breaths, panting against each other's body, feeling how sweaty your bodies are. Johnny looked at you, eyes soft, tired, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I love you damn much and I'm willing to prove you that I'm serious." He utters, lips still inches away from your forehead while he holds you close to him, arms secured around you like it's home, because it is.

"I... Love you too, j... " You choked out a soft confession.

"You don't have to say it right now for me. We'll take out time in our own pace, and I'll never leave. I'll be here, I'll be your home."

#johnny storm x you #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm #human torch x you #the human torch x reader #human torch x reader #the human torch #human torch #fantastic four first steps #fantastic four x reader #the fantastic 4 #fantastic 4 #fantastic four #marvel #joseph quinn

442 notes · View notes

thisisleentrying · 3 days ago

Text

slut! ⸻ oscar piastri × fem reader .

lando norris × ex girlfriend!actress!female!reader. oscar piastri × actress!female!reader.

- summary: “Where Lando Norris decides to cheat on his girlfriend… with her own cousin. Or where Oscar Piastri is willing to comfort his teammate’s ex, no matter what anyone thinks, after the betrayal. Betrayal, heartbreak, and unexpected connections—what happens when loyalty meets temptation?” - warnings: This story contains angst, strong language, and the use of [Y/N]. It includes elements of multimedia and SMAUs, breakups, cheating, and betrayal, as well as situations that may cause emotional distress. There is also a minor character drama. Please keep this in mind before reading. - author's note: hi! leen here. first of all, I wanted to thank you forreading this. honestly, it's my first SMAU and I'd love to hear your feedback so I can make it better. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

- faceclaim: isabela merced and other girls from pinterest.

- series masterlist!!

—

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, pascalispunk, alexandrasaintmleux & 2,344,381 others.

yourusername: summer break with my two favorite people. @ lando and Nala 🩷

pascalispunk: well-deserved break!!

liked by the author.

charles_leclerc: we need to get together so Leo can play with Nala 🐾

yourusername: yesss!!

alexandrasaintmleux: 😍😍😍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous, and all mine.

yourusername: love you, my love 🩷😍

charles_leclerc: ????

iamrebeccad: so pretty!!!!

liked by the author.

y/nsupremacy: no comment from Lando, not even a like? Weird 🤨

landonorrrizzz: right?? he’s always in her comments, totally swooning over her.

—

Lando’s summer break was about to end, but the last two weeks had been strange. He was on his phone all day, barely paying attention to Y/N, and she was starting to notice.

When they got back from vacation, there was still a week left of summer break, but Lando was never home.

Now, Lando was getting ready to go out. He’d put on a comfy shirt, some shorts, nothing fancy—but the cologne he wore filled the room.

“Are you leaving already?” Y/N asked, looking at him from the bed, scrolling through her phone.

He nodded. “Yeah, I have to help a friend with something.”

“What friend?” she asked, wanting to know everything.

“Max.” Lando said curtly.

“Okay… be careful. I love you.”

He didn’t respond. She sighed and stayed home

—

Weeks later.

f1gossip just posted !

liked by ynmybeloved, landowdc, ynlandoparents & 54,481 others.

f1gossip: Lando was seen in his car with a blonde next to him. According to some social media comments, the blonde is none other than Magui Corceiro, Y/N’s cousin. What does Lando have to say about all this? How will Y/N feel seeing her cousin with her boyfriend? Comment below 👀

ynlandoparents: what? they’re probably just friends.

ynmyworld: it’s weird because he hasn’t posted anything with Y/N since the start of summer break.

marilvsyn: yeah, I get your point… he also hasn’t liked any of Y/N’s posts.

miawndonowwis: maybe he’s just giving Magui a ride to Y/N’s place, right? (trying not to panic)

—

Of course, Y/N had seen the picture of Lando and her cousin. She couldn’t believe it—why had he lied to her so many times?

When Lando arrived at the apartment, Y/N didn’t even want to say anything. She was tired of fighting; they had been doing it for weeks.

When Lando got into the shower, Y/N took the chance to grab his phone. But it wouldn’t unlock, and that only frustrated her more.

Later that night, once Lando had fallen asleep, Y/N was still there, holding his phone in her hands.

“Please God, help me unlock this… if I do, I’ll take it as a sign that I need to leave.”

And almost as if it was divine intervention, the phone unlocked.

She scrolled through it, going into every app until she found the chat with Magui. Messages full of love, hearts, pictures of the two of them after…

Y/N felt her chest tighten in pain. She didn’t want to create a huge scene, but the truth was—it was all too much. She had to leave, quietly, but she had to.

She got dressed, grabbed her phone and a few things into a small bag, took her car keys, picked up Nala, and left. But where to? Charles and Alexandra’s place. Nobody could understand her better than them.

When she arrived, they were asleep, but woke up to the sound of the door opening. There she was, completely broken.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what are you doing here?” Alexandra didn’t hesitate for a second before pulling her into a hug. Charles helped them inside.

“I found out that all this time… Lando has been making a fool of me. He cheated on me, Alex,” Y/N sobbed.

“What? With who?” Charles asked.

“Magui. My cousin.” Y/N broke even more.

“Hey, we’re here, okay? We’re not going to let you go through this alone. You and Nala can count on us,” Alexandra whispered, holding her tightly.

—

A week later.

lando just posted !

liked by magui_corceiro, mclaren & 1,678,145 others.

lando: P1 in the Netherlands, couldn’t be happier, especially with the two women in my life by my side. 🧡 #papaya

olivernorris1: Proud of you, bro 💪🏻

lando: thanks, bro 💪🏻

ciscanorris: mom and I are so proud of you, landito, we love you ❤️

lando: love you both more ❤️

magui_corceiro: my love. 🧡

liked by the author.

ynqueen: so it’s true… Lando cheated on Y/N with her own cousin? unbelievable.

marilvsyn: I can’t believe it, but honestly, not surprised—he’s a man.

landoonorzzi: idk why y’all are hating, if you don’t like it just go comment under YN’s posts 🤷🏻‍♀️

ynlandoparents: no comments or likes from the grid boys….

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton & 3,627,819 others.

yourusername: ’cause I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit they said, “babe, you gotta fake it till you make it” and I did, lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die.

alexandrasaintmleux: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

alexandrasaintmleux: obsessed with you, love you

yourusername: love you more, gorgeous

alexandrasaintmleux: kiss me please

yourusername: 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

charles_leclerc: Alexandra is literally my girlfriend???

yourusername: maybe, but she’s mine 💪🏻💪🏻

oscarpiastri: pretty girl ❤️

liked by the author.

piastrilover: Oscar what are you doing here? 🤨🤨

ynloversss: ohhh what’s this I smell?? ship, ship

ynlandonoparents: guys, they’ve known each other for years, they’re obviously just friends (I’m delulu and believe they’ll date one day)

maxverstappen1: 🔥🔥🔥🔥

liked by the author.

—

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, carlossainz55 & 3,454,490 others.

yourusername: but on a Wednesday at a karting track, I watched it begin again. ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux: babe, who is that??

maxverstappen1: can’t believe it, they grow up so fast 😓

fernandoalo_oficial: thought you weren’t ever getting a boyfriend again… 👀

yourusername: he’s not my boyfriend 😊.

kikagomes: not approved, you’re mine.

iamrebeccad: yours?? excuse me? she’s mine.

yourusername: relax girls, there’s plenty of YN for everyone 😙

oscarpiastri: wow, he looks handsome 😌

yourusername: he is :)

pastrryywdc: they’re flirting!!!!

ynsupremacy: my ship, my parents, my everything.

norrisbeloved: ugh, unbelievable how she can’t even wait a little and she’s already with another man. total slut.

landomyhome: right? like, can’t she just be single?

landomaguilover: exactly! she needs to learn how to live without a man.

pascalispunk: 👀👀

liked by author.

charlesleclerc: nooo, can’t believe you’re already leaving the nest 😓

yourusername: I’m literally three years younger than you???

charlesleclerc: still a baby 🥹

hattiepiastri: ❤️

liked by author.

oscarpiastri just posted !

liked by yourusername, mclaren, lando & 2,567,918 others.

oscarpiastri: great day, even better company.

yourusername: Mr. Piastri, whose arm is that? 👀

oscarpiastri: someone very pretty’s.

charles_leclerc: bro’s not even trying to hide it anymore.

oscarpiastri: ???

maxverstappen1: never thought I’d see the day you’re soft-launching someone.

carlossainz55: no comment.

piastriworld: do they really think we’re that dumb?

ynosc: exactly! they swear we don’t notice.

ylpiastri: when they finally go public let’s all act surprised, deal?

nicolepiastri: my boy. ❤️

oscarpiastri: love you mum. ❤️

lando: happy for you, mate.

kimi.antonelli: ahh, good times today, huh 👀🔥

—

To be continued...

#Spotify #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri #smau #charles leclerc #lando norris #x reader #female #social media #max verstappen #taylor swift

613 notes · View notes

goobstars · 2 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

⋆ tadc.jax x reader

summary : since the adventure caine assigned included guns, you were forced to tell jax that you had no clue how to work a firearm, and that resulted in him teaching you.

tags : romance, established crushing, flirting, and guns.

note : why am i obsessed with fics where characters teach the reader how to do stuff ?

"you don't know how to work a gun?"

"isn't that what i said?"

a deep frown was on your face while jax stared at you with a grin, and he lightly snickered as your glare hardened.

why was that fact so amusing? so what if you didn't know how to work a gun? sure, you knew how to shoot a gun, but you weren't aware of how to hold it properly to where the bullet would actually hit somebody. your aim was terrible, and given how you had to shoot people for this adventure, you were screwed.

though, you luckily partnered with the person who made shooting guns his whole personality, so you weren't that worried. the only thing you were apprehensive about was that he would end up shooting you.

you thought that since you were with jax, you wouldn't have to do much. he was always keen on shooting things, so you assumed he'd be thrilled when you announced that he could do all the shooting.

but instead, you were met with him questioning why you weren't going to help shoot, and you reluctantly informed him about your lack of ability to use a gun.

which led to this conversation.

"how could you not know how to use a gun?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow, and he fidgeted with the gun in his hand. you both were currently in the hallway that held everyone's rooms, and jax was leaning against a wall while you stood not too far away from him.

the room had random blocks resting on the ground, and one of the blocks present in the middle of the room had three cans on it. you didn't know why, but you assumed that maybe caine had put those cans there so people could practice shooting. the blocks were obviously for cover, so you weren't curious about them.

"because i didn't learn," you responded as you crossed your arms, and you glanced at the gun in his hand before looking back at him.

due to caine having to deal with the awards show, he just decided to give you all guns to mess with since everyone was complaining about his previous adventure idea. it was some trust exercise that started with jax shooting ragatha, so you just assumed that caine gave up and gifted you all guns to keep you occupied. the adventure itself was simple—team up, find guns that were around the circus, and then shoot each other.

the catch, though, was that everyone had three lives. if you lost them all, you lost the game.

"what's there to learn?" jax pushed himself off the wall, and he started to make his way towards you. he moved to stand on your right side as he lifted the gun, and his eyes didn't leave yours while he pulled the trigger.

the sound of a can hitting the ground made your head turn, and you noticed how one of the three cans was now gone. he had managed to hit one without even looking.

your eyes widened while you slowly turned to look back at him, and his grin grew. "all you do is aim, then shoot. there's nothing else to it."

he eyed the gun in his hands before slipping his index finger into the trigger guard, and he spun the firearm in circles until the motion was abruptly stopped by him grasping the barrel.

the gun was held out towards you, and you narrowed your eyes at it before they flickered up to meet jax's gaze.

a smirk was on his face, and he tilted his head before looking you up and down. "are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna take the gun?"

"jax, why would i need a gun?" you questioned, but despite your query, you still reached out to take the gun.

the metal felt cold against your palm, and you slightly twisted the gun so you could examine it more thoroughly.

"well, you can't necessarily learn how to use a gun if you don't have one."

your attention moved away from the gun as you stared at jax, and you raised an eyebrow. "you're going to teach me how to use a gun?"

"can't have us losing because you didn't know how to use a gun, now can we?"

"you don't even know what to teach me."

"well..." jax trailed while he lifted a finger to poke your forehead, "it's obviously not the shooting part. it'd be pathetic if you didn't know how to shoot a gun, so i'm guessing your aim sucks?"

it was concerning how easily he was able to guess things.

you raised a hand to waft away his finger, and a chuckle echoed from him while you gave him a slight nod.

"and is another reason you're wanting me to do all the shooting is because you don't want to shoot your friends?"

now that you thought about it, you really didn't want to shoot your friends. you had seen ragatha's expression when jax shot her earlier, and you didn't wish that upon anyone else.

again, you nodded, and jax let out a scoff.

jax grasped one of your shoulders to make you turn, and you were now facing the box. only two cans remained, and you eyed them while jax walked behind you.

you slowly held up the gun with two hands, but instead of being met with the instructions you thought jax was going to say, you were instead met with his presence behind you.

his chest pressed against your back while his hand rested against your hip, and he moved his other hand to place it over one of yours. his hand slightly squeezed yours as a gesture for you to grip the gun tighter, and you did just that.

"listen, dollface, we're not gonna win if you keep that mindset."

his leg slightly slipped in between yours, and he nudged one of your feet so you'd sprawl your legs open more. "you're worried about hurting your friends, that they'll hate you after this—whatever." his leg pulled back, and you were now standing shoulder-width apart. you didn't question the position he put you in, for you were more curious about his position. why was he so close to you?

"but in the end, we're all cartoons, right? we'll come back, and technically, this is our adventure for the day."

your hand was moved so the gun was aimed right at the can in the middle, and his hand removed itself from yours before resting on your other hip.

the gun in your hand slightly trembled while you tensed, and you felt jax's mouth right by your ear. "so, why don't you just relax—"

his words were cut off as you pulled the trigger, and the bullet knocked the can off the box. it crashed against the floor, and you heard jax let out a low chuckle.

"that's more like it."

you let out a shaky breath as you felt your face grow warm, and your grip on the gun loosened as you sighed. "are we done?"

"impatient much? you're the one who doesn't know how to work a gun..."

you slightly peered over your shoulder to frown at him, but you were only met with his smirk while one of his hands left your hip. one of your arms was pulled, yanking your hand away from the gun while his hand trailed up your arm.

he grasped your hand, and his fingers intertwined with yours. your arm was slowly put down to your side, but his fingers never left yours.

"we'll be done once you can shoot with one hand—without my help."

you didn't even know how you shot with both of your hands.

you faced the final can, and you put the gun back into position as you attempted to aim it. yet, every time you moved it, it didn't seem straight. it appeared like it didn't line up, and that bothered you.

but you were also being bothered by how close jax was.

his hand remained in yours while you could practically feel his breath against your neck, and you narrowed your eyes at the can.

"why don't you try relaxing?" he questioned, and you let out a short hum. "because it's hard to do that when you're all up on me..."

"you like it."

you tensed at his words, and you didn't even need to look over your shoulder to know he had a smug look on his face. "you're weird—"

"says the one that i always catch staring at me," he spoke in a taunting tone while you attempted to aim for the can. yet, you couldn't. your mind was too scrambled by what was going on, and jax seemed to notice.

"you're always so tense..." he mumbled, and you were confused once you felt him lift up your arm a bit. though, your mind went blank as soon as your hand was placed against his lips. "why don't you relax?"

your finger squeezed the trigger, and once again, you had hit the can.

"or not. maybe that's your thing—tense shooting." he let go of your hand as he took a step away from you, and you remained in place for a moment before hastily turning around. "you—"

your words died in your throat as soon as you realized how close jax still was, and your chest was almost touching his while he slightly leaned down.

"i...?" he trailed as he waited for you to finish your sentence, but it never happened. you just stared at him with wide eyes, and jax only peered at you back before plucking the gun from your grasp.

"i want to go shoot people so we can win this thing. you in, dollface?"

you watched as jax pulled out another gun, and while you questioned from where, you didn't really have time to ask as he held out the gun to you. the handle was grasped while you held the weapon to your chest, and you nodded at jax.

you didn't know what you expected. you truly thought that he'd just turn around and run off while beckoning you to follow him.

instead, you watched as his gaze trailed down to your lips, and his smirk slightly faltered. yet, he didn't make a move. he didn't even say anything.

he just stared as his eyes trailed to meet yours, and his grin grew once again. "well, then what are we waiting for?"

jax turned on his heel before he started to make his way down the hall, but you stood there for a moment with perplexity flooding your mind.

what was that all about?

#𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 #·˚ ༘ ~ writing #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc #tadc x reader #tadc x you #tadc jax #tadc jax x reader #tadc jax x you #jax #jax x reader #jax x you #tadc fanfiction #tadc fanfic #x reader #x you #romance

443 notes · View notes

ataraxixia · 2 days ago

Text

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ you need rest .ᐟ

the bed creaked softly underneath you, your grip on the bedsheets loose as fatigue started to take over your mind. your subconscious had already told you for hours now that you needed sleep, but even after working endlessly, your body just wouldn't give in.

enter toji, who was lying down behind you, hands rubbing soft circles on your hips as his cock filled your pussy deliciously and so gentle that it almost felt out of character for him- but only almost.

"you still awake, ma? dang, your body's stubborn." he murmured against your nape, pressing small pecks on the skin there as he thrusted into you deep, quiet gasps escaping your lips.

you weakly shook your head, your words slightly slurred, "...'m not stubborn."

"I said your body was stubborn this time- not you. can't even hear properly anymore, huh."

you scoffed heartily, letting out a small whine when his thrusts started to speed up, but they didn't get any rougher. one of his hands travelled from your hip to your thigh, the tender touches on your skin leaving goosebumps, and lifted it slightly, allowing him to reach even deeper parts of you, your pussy nothing but welcoming his girth.

"gonna tire 'ya out," he started, breathing in your scent of your hair- it probably smelled like a mixture of coffee and sweat, but toji definitely did not care. "put you and this pretty pussy to sleep. you'd like that, ma?"

you nodded, sighs leaving your lips as you squirmed in his hold, either trying to wriggle free or wriggle closer. you didn't even know yourself. he moved more calculated, calm, with a steady speed, leaving kisses on your neck now, his breath hot against your ear.

"wan' me to move faster? rougher? your call, baby."

"both..." you managed to get out, the breathless moan quiet in the bedroom. "'m so tired, tojiii..."

he smirked against your skin, pressing one gentle kiss before hoisting up your thigh even more, his thrusts growing in speed and strength. he let out groans into your ear, hips jerking in sloppy thrusts and driving himself deeper and deeper into your walls. You felt the veins on his cock inside of you as he pulled back just to slam back in again, over and over and over.

"c'mon I know 'ya close... give it to me." he knew all the spots inside you, angling his pelvis juuuusst right to hit that spot constantly. you whimpered, pleasure ripping through you as your hips started moving on their own, chasing that orgasm.

"'m gonna...-" "i know. jus' let it out." toji slammed into you hard- a strong contrast to his kisses on your neck- your eyes pressing shut as your orgasm washed over you, gasping into the pillow.

his thrusts weakened as he fucked you through your orgasm, but never truly halting. he gently let down your thigh again, his hand resuming its place on your hip with his thumb drawing small circles.

"that's it... look at 'ya, doll." he chuckled at your drowsy face, his lips pressing one last kiss on the back of your head. "sleep, you need it after working' so hard."

he continued moving slowly, gently- careful. his smile could be heard from his voice alone, "need 'ya to earn your pay check."

"fuck you." you managed to mumble before succumbing to sleep.

"nah."

𝜗ৎ: I figured I'd write this since yesterday was my first day of work after being jobless for 8 whole months >ᴗ<

441 notes · View notes

bennettish · 5 hours ago

Text

One day, when I was 15 years old and just learning to drive, my dad and I went to the county fairgrounds to practice driving in the massive, empty parking lot. We were driving his red Mustang convertible because it was the smallest car we owned and the least intimidating for 15-year-old me to drive.

Here’s some context: I desperately needed to learn to drive because I was about to have the opportunity to participate in the Running Start program in Washington state, meaning that I could go to the local community college in lieu of attending my high school. I could get my associate’s degree and graduate high school concurrently, and I wouldn’t have to go to my high school ever again. This was HUGE for me, because I was an isolated kid in a conservative small town. I wasn’t out as queer, but everyone sort of treated me like a pariah based on some combination of a mild speech impediment, ADHD, and Not Fitting In. I was lonely and I wasn’t being challenged by my high school at all, and I needed to get out. Earlier that year, I’d almost asked my parents to take me out of school so I could do online school— that’s how terrible I felt.

So I NEEDED to drive. The community college campus was a half-hour away, and I wouldn’t be able to go there if I didn’t have my license. That day in the parking lot with my dad was my first ever day driving, and I was terrified. Throw in some attention difficulties with ADHD and a struggle to process all of the driving stimuli, and there was Too Much Going On in my brain. Even in an empty parking lot. But I did eventually get the hang of it, and we circled ‘round the lot for a while.

Once my dad determined that I was safe to take a short turn onto the road and back into the lot at an entrance 200 feet away, I pulled the car onto the road for the first time. I was so pleased that it went well! We tried that a few more times without a hiccup.

We tried again, and this time there was a car coming down the road. It was probably 1000 feet away. So unbelievably far for a 25mph road, and it freaked me out. I hadn’t been on the road with a car yet. But my dad urged me to pull the car on the road, and I did.

Except I panicked. I didn’t turn the wheel far enough, and when I went to brake to stop us from turning weirdly onto the road, my foot hit the accelerator. The next thing I knew, we were across the road and sideways in a drainage ditch 6 feet deep.

This is the kind of thing that, when it happens, you don’t really process that it’s happened until at least a few minutes later. One minute I was on the road, the next: I’d crashed my dad’s prized car in the ditch. We were sideways, and neither of us were hurt, but I was really shaken. My dad was really shaken, because — did I mention? — he had lost his entire side of the family in various car accidents in his youth. This was NOT the guy to put through this situation. Poor dad.

Despite the shock, we did pull ourselves out of the car by opening up the passenger side door and climbing out. Miraculously, the car was mostly unharmed, but it was in a ditch, and I was terrified that the cops would show up. If they showed up, surely they would take away my permit and my dreams of freedom would be gone.

Our next strategy was to call a tow truck before any cops got wind of the accident. So my dad was calling up a tow company. A neighbor from a nearby house emerged and asked us if we were okay. He was a really nice old man who assured me that these things happen, and that he was sure one day I’d be a great and very safe driver. As you can imagine, I was sobbing.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse.

You see, because the county fairgrounds were such a perfect place to learn to drive, my driving school would take students there for their first and easiest driving test of the class. So as we were waiting for a tow, here came none other than my driving teacher.

Who happened to be a cop. He was there to give a student from another class a driving test.

My dad, bless him, lied and said that he was driving the car when we crashed. My driving teacher didn’t really believe him, and said that he was sorry, but he had to call this in so another cop who wasn’t off-duty could handle it.

I was still sobbing. Clearly I was the one who’d crashed the car.

By some massive luck, when the cop arrived, my dad was able to talk to him, and my learner’s permit was spared. I was so so relieved, and my mom was on the way to pick me up and take me home while my dad coordinated with the tow company.

Just before I left, two bicyclists went by.

One of them looked at the car, looked at the other person, and went: “Man, that’s one fucked up place to park.”

I will probably remember this until my dying day. Those words are seared into my brain, and while I was deeply embarrassed at the time, these days I think how ridiculous it all was.

Younger me was also livid that I needed a car at all— that I needed to do something so clearly dangerous just to have a chance at autonomy and a better education. I’m still not happy about the concept, but once I did learn to drive, I cherished the shitty little car I drove.

For the first time in my life, I was able to ride in the car and be able to choose the music that I wanted to listen to. I would go to the library and burn whatever CDs I could find and listen to them on the way to school. And I was 16 and taking all sorts of amazing classes. Neuroscience. Journalism. I think my favorite was a night class I took. It was English, maybe English 2, and because it was a night class, I was in a room full of older adults who were going back to school. We watched and analyzed silent films, read poems, discussed the difference between art and pornography, and I thought: this is the world, and I am my own person.

I got out! So it all worked out in the end. It would have been even better if I could have taken some sort of train and not worried about crashing the car, but alas, this was rural America.

14K notes · View notes

i4russell63 · 2 days ago

Text

I miss you. I'm sorry

Summary: Drivers getting back with their exes

Notes: Heyyy! Hope you guys enjoy this. I can’t parel park, but hopefully I can make you guys feel a little bit melancholy with this. Love yall!! Part two coming soon

George Russell

After years in a relationship, it becomes hard to tell who your friends are and who your partner’s friends are.

That was exactly the problem George and Y/N had been struggling with. Months after the breakup, their friend group still split their attention between the two, making sure neither felt left out, but never putting them in the same place at the same time.

That all changed with a surprise dinner for one of the ex-couple’s best friends. It was their first time in months seeing each other, and everyone worried it might be a little too much, a little too soon.

So it was a shock for everyone, including the driver and his ex, when things seemed perfectly normal. Nostalgia wrapped around them, inside jokes pulled out easy laughter, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it once had. For that night, in that restaurant, no one else seemed to exist.

When it was time to leave, George insisted on driving Y/N home, claiming it was “on his way.” She knew very well he was lying, since they lived on opposite sides of London, but accepted anyways. She wasn’t ready to walk into her apartment and face the emptiness left behind by his scent, his presence, her great love.

At her doorstep, George opened her door and leaned in for a goodbye kiss. The taste of wine tried, but failed, to cover the flavor of longing and desire.

“Sorry! I… I’m sorry.”

The driver hurried back into his car and drove off like he was running from something, leaving Y/N with wide eyes and a confused heart.

The next morning, she woke up to a message from Russell:

“About last night… I’m not really sorry.”

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

Kimi Antonelli

After a rough race, everyone at Mercedes tried to cheer the young driver up. Not just his team, but even other drivers offered him kindness and reassurance. It seemed as if the entire paddock wanted to wrap him in a bubble to shield him from harsh criticism.

Still, even with all the reassurance, Kimi felt a hollow space in his chest. Almost instinctively, his eyes searched for a familiar face, the one that used to be at every race, the one who always knew how to comfort him on hard days.

There was no hesitation, no pride in the way his fingers unlocked his phone and typed a message to Y/N, asking her to meet him at his hotel room.

Y/N wasn’t surprised when her phone buzzed. She wasn’t surprised that she knew exactly what the message would say before even reading it. And she wasn’t surprised when her feet carried her straight to his door.

Kimi opened it before the sound of the bell could fade. His brown eyes were slightly red, hair messy from stress. His shoulders relaxed when he saw her, and he practically threw himself into the arms that had once been home.

There was a vulnerable conversation, an inexplicable trust, and then their hands brushed. The electric spark sent shivers down both their spines and that was all Kimi needed to close the distance and press his lips to hers.

The next morning, he woke without her warmth beside him. His chest tightened for a moment until he spotted Y/N sitting on the balcony. They were still confused, still lost, still broken. But at least they’d face it together.

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

Ollie Bearman

Ollie had just won his very first Formula One race. After a grueling afternoon, starting from P19 and delivering an unbelievable performance, he had climbed all the way to the top step of the podium.

Of course, Y/N had watched it all from her apartment, on TV. When Ollie’s mother sent her a message inviting her to the victory party, she hesitated. Wouldn’t it be weird? They had broken up so recently, and the feelings were still raw. Her delay – two minutes at most – earned her another message. This time, it was Ollie himself, asking her to come.

He spent the beginning of the party scanning the crowd for her. A tequila shot, a random cocktail, a couple of beers later and finally, he spotted her.

“You came!” His voice mixed British accent with a faint Italian drawl, slightly slurred from drink. He hugged her tightly, as if he needed the confirmation that she was really there.

They drifted through the party, drinking and talking about everything except themselves. Until the familiar melody of Everything by Michael Bublé filled the room. The same song Ollie’s parents had chosen for their wedding dance. The same song he used to play in the car with Y/N.

They were too young, too dumb, too in love to handle the way their hearts pounded at the same rhythm. It didn’t take long before their lips met, sweet, desperate, necessary.

No words were exchanged afterward, no messages sent. Ollie didn’t need them. In his heart, Y/N was his girlfriend again and he’d tell anyone who dared to ask.

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

Charles Leclerc

Winning in Monaco had always been special, but this time it felt empty. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

The podium smile faded as soon as he was alone. He rolled on his bed, phone in hand, staring at a saved conversation he’d never deleted. Y/N.

He typed quickly: “Hey, are you in Monaco? If so, come see Leo.” As soon as his finger hits send, Charles curses himself mentally. What a sad fucking excuse to see her!

It worked, tho. Y/N answered that she was on her way. The driver jumped from bed, clumsily tidying the mess in his house, and ordered his ex’s favorite pizza. He looked the wine, questioning if it might be too much… but placed it on the table anyway.

When she walked in, using the key she never returned, it was hard to tell who was happier: Charles or Leo.

Dinner was light. They talked about life and the beautiful victory that day. A dinner that didn’t feel like a dinner, but a confession. The wine helped, but it was her eyes that unraveled him. When Charles rested his forehead against hers, it felt like time had reversed. The relapse was gentle, inevitable. Their bodies remembered the way home.

The next morning, Charles woke before her and watched her sleep, as he used to. He knew he loved her more than anything, but also knew nothing was truly settled. He kissed her hand and allowed himself to savor the moment.

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

Daniel Ricciardo

At a party in Australia, which Y/N had sworn she wouldn’t attend, she found him. Loud music, laughter, familiar hugs… and then there he was. Daniel, in the corner, smiling as always, but with tired eyes. That smile that had once been only hers.

Their eyes met by accident, enough for Daniel to walk over. And it was impossible to resist the driver’s charm. That was why she avoided the same places as her ex. She knew just one slip would make her throw away all her certainties.

A quick conversation turned into hours on the balcony, away from the party. His laughter mixed with her regretful gaze. The silence became too heavy, and when he lightly touched her hand, it was as if nothing had changed.

This wasn’t how Y/N had planned her night, but she pulled him close and let longing take over her rationality. Between whispered confessions and hungry touches, “God, I’ve missed this. Missed you.” he said.

By morning, Daniel was tangled in the sheets, unwilling to let go, his face buried in her neck. He couldn’t talk about the future, but he also couldn’t imagine letting her leave again.

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

Oscar Piastri

Oscar was dealing with his worst enemy: silence. It was a Sunday with no races, nothing to occupy his mind except thoughts he could never organize. His routine was perfect, his career going better than expected, but still something inside felt incomplete. The emptiness of his apartment crushed him. He thought of Y/N and how life had felt lighter when she was around.

He sent a simple message: “Wanna grab a coffee?” She accepted.

The conversation started casual, questions about work, family, and life. But soon, nervous laughter took over, followed by long silences that couldn’t be ignored. Each pause carried the weight of months of unspoken words. Coffee became a walk, the walk turned into endless conversations about everything and nothing.

When it suddenly rained, they ran to his car, laughing like before. The laughter stopped when their eyes met. The kiss came naturally, inevitably.

The outing ended at his apartment door, as if no other path were possible. Oscar hesitated for a second, but her gaze told him hesitation was useless. Once inside, words were unnecessary, hands met, touches reignited something that had never truly disappeared.

There was vulnerability in the kiss. It wasn’t raw passion or sudden euphoria. It was longing. It was pain. It was a living reminder of how much they still belonged to each other.

#george russell #kimi antonelli #ollie bearman #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #oscar piastri #charles leclerc x reader #george russel x reader #kimi antonelli x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #oscar piastri x reader #ollie bearman x reader

199 notes · View notes

wiatchswift · 23 hours ago

Text

all i need is you / bucky barnes

warnings: mentions of sex, sneaking around. little age gap?? word count: 1.9k A/N: this took so long make it appreciated thanks. but i didn't proofread sorry.

you were the little sister that got dragged along to parties and hangouts because your mom told your siblings to bring you.

the events you were dragged to were science fairs and Coney Island trips.

Steve Rogers was your older brother. scrawny and always being put into fights.

you and Steve weren’t much alike. that was what made it hard to tell you were siblings. Steve had minimal friends, Bucky and…

you, on the other hand, were great friends with Rebecca—Bucky’s little sister.

ordinarily, the best friend to the brother would hate the little sibling’s guts, in a… friendly way.

but no, really. James Barnes was really sweet to you. he brought you along to these events as if you were just a little sibling to him, just as you were with Steve.

until, one day, he arrived at the Rogers’ house and… you were there.

grown up. mature. actually… woah.

Bucky was there to pick Steve up for another night out together. instead just wanted to take you out somewhere.

he knew it would probably get in the way of everything. Steve trusted Bucky with you, he trusted that Bucky wouldn’t try anything with you, wouldn’t make a move—despite his Brooklyn charm that nobody could resist.

everything from there was risky. you had always had a thing for Bucky, since you were, like… three.

so, naturally, you guys were sneaking around. behind Steve and Rebecca’s back.

you both always felt guilty about it. Bucky imagined, sometimes, if the roles changed. if it was Steve sneaking around with Rebecca. he hated the thought, and could only imagine what would happen if Steve found out about you two.

the way Bucky looked at you, though. he looked at you like you hung up the stars and moon. like you were more than just a little sister to his best friend.

if you were laughing, he was smiling. that would always make your heart explode with affection, because nobody had treated you better than Bucky.

now, you were using the excuse to your parents about “having a sleepover with Rebecca” when in reality, you and Bucky were having sleepovers and not the most modest ones.

sitting in Bucky’s bed, back against the headboard, he was talking to you while pacing around the room.

it got like this sometimes. he would get stressed and you would be there to listen to him.

walking back and forth at the end of the bed, Bucky talks and talks. “and I mean, how can I not feel bad about it? you’re… his baby sister. I’m fucking my best friends baby sister.”

you chuckle, stifling it at the end so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. “Jamie, I’m pretty sure I want this just as much as you do—”

he cut you off, continuing his ramble. “I used to think you’d be the godmother of my kids, sweetheart.”

“then I’ll be the mother?”

Bucky paused in his pacing, facing you. you were like this, very blunt when it came to those close to you.

he was used to it, really… but, mother? “you’d have my babies?”

you chuckle again, less stifling this time. “we’re still young, babe. maybe I will, I’d be honoured.”

“don’t even joke about it.” Bucky said sternly, pointing a finger at you.

you get your back off of the headboard, moving on the bed towards him. “look, Buck. if Steve finds out, he’ll have to deal with the fact his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore.”

you take his hand in yours, tracing small circles on the back with your thumb. “we could even blame it on me. say that it was my idea.”

Bucky sighed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. “I guess we could—wait, no. we’re not blaming us on you.”

you let out a small noise. a mix of a scoff and snicker. “and why’s that?”

“I’d rather him get angry at me than you.” He states, matter of fact.

letting out a huff of air, you tug his hand gently, pulling him down to kiss you. pulling back, you mutter, “you’re too good to me.”

“‘s what I do best.”

you laugh, kissing his cheek after. “about that baby thing…"

—

a few hours later, you two were cuddled up in bed, half-naked.

he was in his boxer briefs, you were in a bra and panties—after a great decision to cover up at least a little after you had sex.

well, you tried to have sex.

Bucky paused in the middle of a thrust because he started feeling anxious again.

like the paranoid feeling you get when you think somebody’s watching. he felt that, but with Steve.

chests pressed together, legs tangled. you were on top of him, not really focused on anything but him.

you were tracing small patterns on his bicep with your fingertips, he was looking up at you that same way he always did. like you were the best thing in the world.

your eyes shift, looking into his now. “what?” you say with a suppressed smile. he always got you feeling mushy inside.

Bucky shook his head softly, his own smile growing. “you’re just so… beautiful.”

you chuckle softly, cheeks growing pink. “stop that.”

“stop what?”

“that.”

Bucky was seriously in love. you could tell. his eyes told everything, his actions, his voice.

you were one of the only people he would soften up to, take care of, love.

though, you weren’t there yet.

hadn’t said those words yet.

but they had been on the tip of his tongue for months. he kept chickening out, thinking there would be a better time for it.

was he even allowed to get that deep into this thing you two have going on?

probably not.

a conversation you two had when all of this was started, you both agreed on it being a fling, hook-ups and nothing more.

but, of course, neither of you followed that. it showed.

he wished that maybe, just maybe, you could be something more in the future. that it could be you who he married. you could have his children.

stop getting ahead of yourself, James.

—

once Bucky ended up asleep, you had to slip out of his house without a word.

your parents thought you were having a sleepover with Rebecca, and thought you would be home in the morning.

you knew, if you spent the night at Bucky’s place and the mornings, you wouldn’t be leaving.

he’d give you that pout and make you feel bad for even suggesting leaving to go home.

he wouldn’t, really. but it was a great technique to scare you from staying overnight at his.

you sat up, untangling yourself from his limbs and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

you really didn’t need to say anything, he was dead asleep, but you did anyway. “I’ll be back soon, honey.” you whisper against his skin, pulling back once finished.

standing from the bed, you stretch your arms slightly. bending down to pick up your discarded shirt from the floor, then your pants.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing Bucky fast asleep in bed. you hated the feeling, hated how wrong what you two were doing was.

going completely behind Steve’s back, and Rebecca’s. it was a matter of time before they found out.

when you arrive home, it’s late. nobody’s awake. probably for the better.

you were getting that feeling again. it was the same feeling Bucky got, but told you all about. you tried acting like these things didn’t affect you. but they did. badly.

that thing started happening again. your hands started getting clammy out of nowhere.

fingers trembled against the doorknob, opening the door to your bedroom.

ironically, the only thing you wanted right now was for Bucky to hold you.

but he couldn’t. not now, at least.

and now your arms were doing that tingly thing again.

–

the next time you two saw each other, it was at a hang out.

Steve, Rebecca, Bucky, and you.

Steve and Bucky sat sprawled out on the floor, you and Rebecca were up on the couch talking to each other about everything that wasn’t science and nerdy guy stuff.

Bucky was tossing a tennis ball up in the air and catching it once it fell, just above his face.

oh, how badly you just wanted to be near him. and for it to be okay to do that.

Rebecca was in the middle of a sentence, then noticed how you were completely, utterly zoned out.

“and I was—hey, Y/N… earth to Y/N?”

you didn’t realise you were staring at Bucky up until now, blinking a few times, your eyes meet Rebecca’s.

“yeah. uh—sorry. I was just a little—”

“lost?” Bucky chimed in, doing that smug grin that made you want to wipe it right off.

you roll your eyes, continuing back to the conversation with Rebecca.

now, it was Bucky’s turn to stare.

he loved the way your eyes looked as if there was a speck of glitter in them every time you talked about something you loved, or even looked at somebody you loved.

he loved how your smile made everything in your face light up.

how you talked so smoothly and softly, and made the person you were talking to feel like the only person in the room.

it was really stupid that Steve thought Bucky wouldn’t fall in love with you.

you were just sunshine.

you were the light in a dark room.

and oh how Bucky loved you.

even if he hadn’t said it before,

you just knew.

Steve mentioned something to Bucky about going to get some takeout for dinner, considering none of your four cooked much.

Rebecca piped up immediately, finishing up her story and jumping off of the couch to run to the store with Steve.

that left you and Bucky together.

finally, alone.

you smile at him once the door shuts, and he pulls your hand and gives you a kiss like he was starving.

which, in all honesty, he probably was.

that was what most of it was while Rebecca and Steve were gone.

but they were gone for longer than anticipated.

sidewalk traffic, delayed orders, and whatnot.

that gave you and Bucky time to be together.

after nearly ten minutes of kissing and laughing and talking, you lay on the couch, head on Bucky’s thigh. his fingers absentmindedly ran through the strands of your hair, and he was rambling on about something Steve had said earlier that day.

when you just really wanted him to shut up, you straightened up your back and moved on the couch.

“what’re you doing?” Bucky asked, brows furrowed.

then, you planted yourself straddling his lap. leaning your head in to press a kiss to his lips.

“shutting you up,” you murmur against his lips. he returns the kiss with hands on your waist and slipping under your shirt.

it wasn’t long before it was just a bunch of chuckles between kisses and all tongue and stupid love.

and it wasn’t long before the front door was unlocking.

but with your fingers tangled in his hair, and your mouth all over his, it was really hard to care for what was happening around you two.

when you hear a pair of keys fall onto the kitchen counter, you pull back from the kiss.

his palms were still beneath your shirt, and your fingers still locked in his hair.

turning your head over your shoulder, your mouth falls agape..

fuck.

masterlist | divider by me, inspired by @/saradika-graphics

217 notes · View notes

skyespaddock · 1 day ago

Text

Words Unsaid ✨ Chapter One

Oscar Piastri x Amalie Leclerc (ofc)

Summary- For as long as she could remember Amalie Leclerc’s life had been characterized by a steady quiet. The list of people she could speak to was small, one she wasn't brave enough to add any names to. Until the universe added one for her, or better yet sent Oscar Piastri crashing into her life. Teaching her that love can be quiet and calm, that two introverts can find home in each other.

Warnings- fmc with selective mutism, mentions of anxiety, metnions of deceased parent, tooth rotting fluff, sibling chaos. two introverts absolutely obsessed with each other.

Notes- It's here! It's here!!!!!! As always feed me with all your thoughts!!- Skye 💕

Series Masterlist

Monaco, March, 2023

Having an endless wardrobe at the tips of your fingers came with many perks, however Amalie Leclerc’s current situation was not one of them. In fact the brunette was one outfit change away from setting her entire closet on fire.

Ninety percent of the closet in question had been relocated, tossed blindly onto her bed in a mad effort to find the perfect outfit for lunch with her family. Not just any lunch, but one that would introduce her to her brother Charles' new girlfriend Alexandra.

Amalie wished she could be excited about meeting the woman who had stolen her brother's heart, but her blood ran cold and her hands clenched into tight fists, itching at the thought of meeting someone new. Letting someone new into her life, into her tiny contained orbit.

“No that won’t do.” The girl sighed, tossing yet another dress behind her to join the growing pile of rejected clothes on her bed. The pale blue number not living up to her standards. A choice that earned a judgmental meow from a disturbed Luna who now laid on Amalie’s pillow, having been displaced from her usual throne at the foot of the bed.

“We both know that that dress was not going to cut it.” Amalie shot back at her judgmental cat like this was a daily dispute.

Through Amalie’s extensive instagram stalking she'd come to the conclusion that her brother’s girlfriend was the most beautiful woman she ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

Hence the intense need to impress her with a stunning outfit, first impressions were everything. However the girl was running out of time and clothing.

Guess this will have to do, she thought, picking up a silk baby pink dress that her mother had bought her a few weeks ago. One that had been previously thrown in the pile on her bed.

The feel for the cool silk against her warm skin calmed her senses, providing comfort amidst the strom in her mind.

It's just lunch with your family, you do that all the time, she told herself. A bland attempt of reassurance that did nothing to touch the pot of anxiety that was moments away from boiling over.

As the youngest of three, Amalie loved her older brothers. The first years of her life were spent in a young bliss, laughing, and loving her family, being their happy girl. They didn't put the pieces together until much later later.

The pieces about why she cried when her brother's friends would come over, or why she would cling to her mother in dense crowds. Why she would freeze up when introduced to her parents' friends during quick run-ins at the grocery store.

The full picture didn't come together until the faithful day Amalie was sent to school. A day that was supposed to mark growth, a happy accomplishment children would look back on fondly as the good old days. Not for Amalie, her days at school were far from good.

At the time she couldn't understand what she felt. Why it felt like the room was caving in on her, why she couldn't tell anyone her heart was going to beat out of her chest. That her blood was pumping too fast, that everything was too loud, too much.

In those first days of school the kids in her class would come up to her. Ask for her name and if she wanted to play with them. Amalie still remembered the first time it happened, the moment was still a fresh wound all these years later.

Her entire body had frozen, as if the owner of the remote to her body pressed pause. She felt like a giant glass box had dropped overhead, encasing her body. Separating her from the rest of the world. Amalie wanted so badly to respond. To speak, but the words were stuck in her mind. Door locked tight so they couldn't escape. No matter how badly she wanted them too.

After a painful month of being unable to communicate with her teacher and classmates her parents took her to a child specialist. Their answer to what was happening to her was heavy, a hard hit to the whole family.

Selective mutism. That's what she had.

Amalie never liked that name. It made it seem like she had a choice. That she could pick and choose when her mind shut down, when her own voice failed her. She didn’t, she never did.

Amalie struggled to connect with other kids at school, most of them thought she was rude, weird, or dumb because she couldn't speak to them. None of them knew that she responded to their questions in her head or that the young girl silently participated in their conversations, but could never get the words past her lips.

She won’t think you're weird, You don’t have to talk, just be there, Charles had tried his best to reassure her. To be the accepting older brother who put his all into protecting her, being her warm shield from harm. But Amalie so desperately wished to be able to communicate normally.

Oh how she wished to be funny like Charles, outgoing like Arthur, or have Lorenzo's cool casual confidence.

So here she was, stuck trying on outfits for the past hour, attempting to piece together a way to make a good first impression on Alexandra.

Amalie didn't want the pristine, polished girl to think she was rude or that she disapproved of her. The Leclerc girl's solution to this fear lay on her dresser in the form of a delicately crochet flower keychain.

Was it stupid? Maybe.

Tacky? Probably.

But it was the best way for the girl to communicate to Alex that she was trying. To tell her that she saw her, liked her, wanted a relationship with the woman even through the wordless barriers.

Her fingers picked at the silk cinching her sides, positioning it to perfection. Giving the material one final smooth over before letting out a sigh in approval, yes, this would have to do.

Sighing at her lack of time and options, Amalie picked up her phone to see just how behind schedule the great outfit debacle had put her.

Mallory

Have you finished gutting your closet yet?

Mallory. Just when the quiet girl thought she was hopeless to ever make a friend she met Mallory. It was just a normal day at school where she was surrounded by noise and chaos. But no one bothered to approach her.

They had given up on her long ago.

Amalie was sitting in her usual corner of the classroom with her nose deep in a book, when a young rebellious Mallory got in trouble for acting out in class with her deskmate. What exactly she did was never important.

What was important is that the teacher sent Mallory to the only other available seat in the classroom. The one next to Amalie.

Mallory never cared that Amalie didn't respond to her questions or speak in their conversations. That's just how their friendship worked. Mallory talked and Amalie listened.

Until one day she responded.

Amalie

How did you know?

Are you living in my walls?

Mallory

You caught me, It’s because I know you

And I also know that she is going to love you no matter what you wear

Amalie

I think spending the entire time staring at her and not talking would be a great reason for her not to like me

Mallory

At least you have beautiful eyes

She knows, right?

Charles told her?

Amalie

He did

I might just run away to a deserted island that would make this all a lot easier

Mallory

Thats an option but I hear they don’t have oat milk lates on those

Amalie

Your right that’s a dealbreaker for sure

Mallory

GOOD LUCK YOU'VE GOT THIS!!

Amalie’s thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at her door.

“You're late," she scolded the time blind boy across the threshold .

“I was planning on you being late and I would rather not have to sit around waiting for you while your cat plots to murder me.” Arthur Leclerc smiled, one that looked much like her own. With just a touch of something wild, something free that could only be associated with the youngest of her brothers.

“Any violent acts toward you from Luna have been in self defense Arthur.” She laughed as she grabbed her purse, snatching up her gift for Alexandra in one flawless sweep. “Your the one who tried to kill her first”

“I was trying to brush her.” Her brother defended.

“Well you pulled out a chunk of her hair, the poor thing was traumatized. You should really leave the haircutting to Maman.” She turned to lock the door to her flat, the two siblings continuing through the building together. Shoulders clumsily knocking one another as they ventured through the halls.

Luna, her sassy ragdoll cat, had been a gift from Charles when she first moved into her apartment. He was afraid of her being alone, and wanted her to have a loyal companion.

Luna loved all the Leclerc's, especially Charles who bribed her with treats and treated her like the princess she is every time he visited. Arther however was never able to recover from his lackluster first impression.

As the two siblings exited Amalie’s apartment she couldn't ignore the unease that curled around her spine, pulsing harder with each step she took away from her apartment. Her safe space, her quiet sanctuary. The gentle Monaco breeze attempted to soothe her, to ease her heart that always clenched tighter at the overbearing thought of the unknown.

For Amalie, selective mutism was hard to explain, a definition that was fluid, ever-changing with the world around her. It wasn't a choice she made, she had no control over her triggers. Loud unfamiliar places, crowds, strangers, new experiences. Those were the things that fueled her shut downs.

So she lived her life in avoidance of those triggers by all means possible, fearing what would happen if she didn't. If she allowed them to catch up to her. Amalie had taken uni classes online, worked on her blog from home, ordered her groceries to be delivered. Anything she could do to avoid that uncomfortable feeling in her spine that would eventually take over her entire body.

“Don’t worry about Alex” Arthur reassured, noticing his sister's unease as they got into his car. Amalie allowed a heavy sigh to release from its tight place trapped in her lungs. Allowed it to free itself in the safety of her brother's leather seats. The material cradling her, guiding her to relax.

“You being there is enough, Maman's making your favorite, and you love the ocean view from her dining room.” He added in an attempt to ease the storm in her mind, something he always knew how to effortlessly achieve.

Amalie loved all her brothers to death but Arthur understood her in a way that no one else could. Saw what no one else had the key to decipher.

Maybe it was because they were closest in age. Or maybe it was because they'd spent so much time together after their papa died. She knew she could be herself with Arthur and she wouldn’t be judged but instead rewarded.

____

Soft speckles of the afternoon Monaco sun graced the full length glass windows, its rays falling onto the large wooden table set for six.

The air smelled like home, a mix of Pascale’s favorite candle and a home cooked meal, while soft french music drifted quietly from a speaker in the kitchen. Completing the atmosphere, making it cozy in a familiar way only a mother could achieve.

“Oh my beautiful girl you look gorgeous.” Pascale beamed as she greeted her daughter with a hug that felt like childhood and pink pigtail bows.

“What about me?” Arthur mused from behind her. “Don’t I look fabulous too?”

“You look like you need a haircut” The mother laughed as she moved to hug her youngest son.

“Come in come in.” She gestured rapidly. “Everyone else is in the sitting room."

Amalie could feel her heart rate increase as she rounded the corner behind Arthur. Feel her hands shake. Feel herself start to retreat into that oh so familiar lonely corner of her mind.

Her anxiety was temporarily dampened when she was greeted by Charles and Lorenzo, wrapped in the warm embraces of her older brothers. Comforted by memories of card games played under the dinner table and stealing cookies from their mother’s cookie jar when they thought she wasn't looking.

“Thank you for being here” Charles whispered in her ear, pulling away to look Amalie in the eyes. “I know how much this costs you, and I am so proud that you are trying.”

She nodded. Unable to form words. That door already shut, with her on the wrong side once again, leaving her alone in the unknown.

“Amalie meet Alexandra.” Charles introduced the two as he turned toward where the straight backed, elegant woman was sitting.

She didn't get up, not in a rude way, just in a way that didn't crowd her. A gesture Amalie appreciated.

“It is so lovely to meet you. I've heard a lot about you.” Alex spoke with a sweet smile that made Amalie almost want to cry, because Alex was perfect for her brother. She was so sweet and somehow understood what the girl needed. But when she tried to open her mouth to say something. Anything. It was like her voice had been stolen. Like the words I’m so happy to meet you, were stuck in her mind, hopeless to ever make it past her dry lips.

Instead she attempted to steady the trembles wreaking her body, like waves on a story ocean shore. Looking up to meet Alex’s eyes and attempting what she wished was a smile but probably looked more like a pained grimace.

You can do this, Amalie, she told herself.

An eternal pep talk of sorts. Just give her the clump of yarn, so she at least has some proof that you're not heartless.

Amalie stepped forward on tentative feet. Reaching into her bag to grab the crochet flower she had spent hours learning to make. The girl had taken a flower she’d seen in a picture from Alex’s instagram, a posed sunset picture where the flower was effortlessly placed in her hair and hoped it would mean something. That it would be enough to show she cared.

Alex took it with a smile. “You made this? This is my favorite flower.” She said, smiling like Amalie had just given her the keys to a Ferrari instead of a silly arts and crafts project that could unravel on demand.

Amalie looked up at Charles to see him smiling. Okay, she reassured herself, that wasn't so bad

However the moment was short lived when Arthur broke it with a lighthearted “so, are we going to eat or what?”

His words were met with laughter and light head shakes. Ones that were directed toward the boy who always knew how to lighten the mood, how to take the attention away from Amalie when she wanted it gone.

She could always count on the boy to do that for her.

____

Pink bled into purple like brushstrokes of a painting across the sky. The soft colors making way for the sun as it breached the watery horizon. The ocean beginning to sparkle as the first flecks of light blessed its soft ripples. Sunrise marked the most peaceful part of the day, when the world took its first breaths after waking.

Amalie always loved watching the sun rise. When she was a little girl her papa would take her to watch the day wake up across the water.

He told her that the beginning of a new day was special and should be celebrated, and that you can see many things in a sunrise beyond just light.

Amalie loved her papa with every quiet bone in her body. The gentle man never forced her to talk, just always offered a quiet steady presence. One that became home, her safety net.

Prior to her papa’s death Amalie was making progress in speaking and finding ways to cope with her anxiety. All the progress she’d made with cognitive behavioral specialists and speech therapists came to a screeching halt when he died. The man took all his love and safety with him.

A month of silence followed his passing, the Leclerc daughter didn’t talk to anyone after she lost him. She couldn't, it was like without him she’d forgotten how to. Maybe she had. Something died in her that day along with him. Something that could never quite be fixed.

Amalie let out a gentle breath, a soft huff of warm air escaped her lungs as she gazed into the pastel lit morning sky. Her feet were firmly planted in the same spot she stood with her papa all those years ago, the same spot where he taught her to love the sunrise.

She never stopped going, never stopped appreciating the waking day, and now as she watches a new one unfold all she sees is her papa.

____

The sun had finished its morning ascent outside the safety of her apartment. A window was cracked just enough to allow the sea breeze to creep through and caress her skin. Easing her stress away. Luna was lazily laying in the morning sun beams without a care in the world.

Amalie’s life revolved around routine, things that made her feel safe. This day was no different.

Amalie basked in the familiar luxury of home, enjoying the last sips of her oat milk latte. Placing her pink mug down, she turned her attention back to this morning's harrowing task.

Answering Alex’s DM.

It came through last night. After she was safely delivered home and had changed into her delicate silk pajamas and fluffy pink slippers. Another part of her carefully crafted routine.

Alexandra Saint Mleux

Hello Amalie, I wanted to thank you again for the flower it's my new favorite bag accessory!

“Ok, think Amalie.” She whispered into the sunny flat in an attempt to hype herself up. “All you have to do is type a simple response, that should be easy.” Her pep talk continued, shaky confidence building ever so slightly.

It was in fact not easy. Not by a long shot, and the girl had a long list of scraped text messages to prove it.

I had a great time even if it looked like I was miserable the whole afternoon. Okay, weird. No.

I spent hours figuring out how to make it so I’m glad you like it and I loved meeting you. Also what perfume do you wear because you smell amazing? What? Even weirder, also no.

“Something casual, Amalie. You can do that.” She mumbled as Luna waltzed up to brush her tail against Amalie’s leg. Sensing she needed the extra support while simultaneously judging the brunette for her lack of texting literacy.

Amalie Leclerc

I’m really glad you liked it

I had a good time meeting you! I Just wanted you to know that

Alexandra Saint Mleux

I had a lovely time meeting you too Amalie. Hopefully we can do it again soon

Amalie's suspended breath released, not all in one quick flood but slowly. Like the trickle of a leaky sink. Its contents slowly emptying drip by drip. Taking small drops of her stress away.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't what Amalie would call normal, but it was a step. A step in the right direction. She was trying and that was all that mattered.

___

Monaco, April, 2023

While verbal communication had always felt forced to Amalie, something unnatural, like a bulky weight underneath her skin. Writing was different. Writing was an escape from the thoughts within her head. A way to compile them into something people could understand, something people could connect with.

It started simply, just a little hobby for her to blow off steam. A way for Amalie to shamelessly rant about her passion for reading. Starting with long in depth reviews of her favorite and least favorite books. An ordeal that evolved into full articles and book recommendations.

She was shocked when her pieces began to gain traction. Amalie would never forget her first piece to get big, to gain attention. The piece was simple, something about the perfect romance books for each season. Something about it, about her. Resonated with people.

So for the past year that's what she did. Shared her love of books through her blog. That was the outside world’s window into her life. They only saw her book opinions, perfectly edited in written form.

She was halfway through her newest blog post, perched at the kitchen island, going about her daily routine as usual. The sunny Monaco day unfolding outside the safe walls of home.

Amalie was excited about her current project, a piece about a newly released romance novel. She was engaged in spelling out every word with intense focus when the message came through. A small ping just loud enough to grab her attention, pulling her from the world of books she’d been swimming knee deep in.

Charles

Everything is all set for the Monaco Grand Prix

I can come by sometime to give you both your pass and Mallory’s

To the surrounding high society the Formula One Monaco Grand Prix was the event of the year. An opportunity to be seen at the most luxurious race of the season.

To Amalie it was the week where her home, her quite beautiful sanctuary became overrun with people, noise, and panic.

Amalie didn't hate Formula One. How could she when her family sacrificed so much to get Charles in that Ferrari? But the people, the media, the eyes, was all too much for her timid bones and anxious mind.

However, without fail every year she always attended. Cheering her brother on from a quiet corner of the Ferrari hospitality. With love being her only explanation as to why she put herself through it.

Charles had always been there for her, from panic attacks that put her in the hospital, to dropping groceries on her doorstep when she couldn't bring herself to leave her apartment. She was never quite able to show just how grateful she was for him.

Not with words.

So she did this instead. Amalie showed up for him, no matter how uncomfortable it was, because she knew how much it meant to the boy to have his whole family supporting him at his home race.

So she would be there. No matter how much it cost her.

____

Monaco, May, 2023

Soft yellow silk coated her skin, its material bright and lovely. A stunning contrast against her tanned skin. The dress should have made Amalie feel like a princess, like she belonged in a runway show.

Instead it felt wrong, like the material burned her and sat wrong against her skin. Not because it didn't fit. It hugged her figure beautifully, ending just above her heel clad feet. No, It was because her skin was buzzing. Like something was trying to claw its way out of her body.

Amalie’s Friday morning before the Monaco Grand Prix had begun with another panicked battle against her closet before Arthur and Lorenzo picked her up on their way to the paddock.

Their journey through the chaotically paced paddock and into the Ferrari hospitality suite had taught her one thing. That her brothers simply knew too many people.

After twenty minutes of being stopped by various team personnel, friends, and public figures, her brothers deposited her safety within the Ferrari walls. Leaving promptly afterward to attend what Lorenzo called a business lunch but not before asking Amalie “you’ll be okay right?” An upwards of ten times.

While the anxious little sister in her desperately wanted to tell them to stay. She didn't want to be a burden, didn't want to be a helpless little girl hiding behind her brothers because she was scared in an unfamiliar setting.

Pathetic the negative voice in her head echoed.

If you were just normal you wouldn't have this problem. It scolded her.

Her mother and Alexandra had yet to arrive. So Amalie sat alone on an expensive leather couch with a cool bottle of water clenched in her tight fist, waiting for Mallory. Her emotional support for the weekend had to come separately due to an emergency work call.

The minutes ticked by at a painfully slow pace as if a snail had taken over the turning of time. Every minute passed slower than the last.

Her shaking hands fiddled with the soft pastel pink bunny keychain her mother had bought her when she was eight. “It can be your companion." She had told her. “For when things get too loud.” Amalie had named the bunny Petunia and for the past thirteen years the feel of the soft, fake fur against her fingertips made being in her head a little more tolerable.

However today Petunia’s comforting supper powers were running low.

Amalie should have felt at ease. Logically, the girl was safe. The room was quiet, the noise canceling glass windows did wonders to block out the chaos of the Formula One weekend unfolding below. But her body didn't care about logic. It knew this wasn't home, wasn't a designated safe space. That this was not something it had approved.

A vibrating buzz from her purse pulled her away from the anxious fiddling, giving her mind a task, a job to do. While also bringing bad news. Very bad news.

Mallory

Okay slight problem

I may or may not be lost

Like desperately lost

Amalie felt her heart sink, she was almost able to hear it drop out of her chest to her feet in a helpless pile of nerves. Just breathe. No worries, this is easily fixable” she desperately tried to convince herself.

Amalie

Do you know where you are?

Mallory

No clue

I have lived here my whole life I and feel like I just dropped in the backrooms

I have no clue where the paddock entrance is

Okay maybe this was not so recoverable.

Amalie

Can you send a picture of where you are?

Amalie knew it made her a terrible friend, but she secretly hoped she wouldn't recognize where Mallory was. That she wouldn't have to go out to find her friend. Wouldn't have to brave buzzing crowds alone. The Ferrari hospitality might not have been peak comfort, but it was generously better than the chaos waiting to consume her outside the four walls she sat in.

Maybe this is karma, she thought to herself as the picture came through and she recognized the exact place her friend was stuck in.

A small wrong turn. That was all it was. But due to the construction and reconfiguration of Monaco to fit the towering paddock it would be impossible for the girl to guide her friend out from afar. Mallory needed someone to come get her, and that someone had to be Amalie.

Okay breathe, you can do this. It’s just a little walk through the place you’ve lived all your life. Her positive thoughts stood no chance against the storm of anxiety conquering her entire body.

But she wanted to do this for her friend. She wanted to be a good friend so badly.

Just pretend it's like your normal morning walks. That's all it is.

A deep breath filled her lungs, air settling into every crack and crevice within her body.

Amalie

Stay there, I’m on my way

___

There were bad ideas and then there were really bad ideas. Amalie realized the moment she stepped outside the Ferrari hospitality and into the bustling paddock that this was a really bad idea.

Pit crews wheeled around stacks of tires ahead of the first free practice. Reporters stumbled around with microphones and cameramen on their tails. Team personnel were scrambling to get to their next destination. Celebrities and paddock guests waltzed around the packed space taking photos.

It was all too much.

The scene around Amalie was a sea of chaos, waves crashing so violently they threatened to pull her under.

It was loud, wrong, unsafe. That's what it was. Keeping her head down, Amalie tried her best to block out the deafening noise assaulting her senses. Hands reached to fiddle with the clasp securing Petunia to her bag as she narrowly avoided being run over by the RedBull pit crew.

She continued to move forward. Walking as quickly as her legs would take her. Heart beating rapidly, until it all came to a rapid halt as Amalie hit something, a hard wall in her way.

The panicked girl glanced down, staring at a pair of black and orange sneakers.

Her obstacle was not a wall, but instead a human.

Tears prickled Amalie’s eyes as attempted to process what was happening. Looking up the brunette expected to be met with a ticked off reporter or celebrity.

Instead she looked up into warm, brown eyes and everything went quiet. The buzzing that never quite seemed to go away stopped, dissolving into nothing but dust blowing in the wind.

Brown eyes looked straight into hers. What color were her eyes again? She couldn't remember, couldn't form thoughts.

Amalie could not bring herself to do anything but stare into the eyes of the man who had just halted her anxiety-filled journey through the Monaco poddock.

But as quickly as the chaos left, it returned. Just like that it all came rushing back, hitting her like a kick in the face.

“Hey” a voice called out to her, sweet and dripping with honey at the edges, and then again. “Hey” an Australian voice cut through the noise. It took her a second to realize that the voice was coming from the man in front of her. The one with brown eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

That snapped her out of it. Caused her to access the current position they were in. They were close, too close.

His hands were placed delicately on either side of her body as if trying to stabilize her from the jaring crash against his chest. Amalie became hyper aware of the feeling of his warm strong hands against her shaking body.

She had to leave. She had to get out of there now.

Taking an abrupt step back, the panicked girl nearly tripped over herself in a desperate attempt to free herself from this embarrassing nightmare.

She looked the figure before her up and down.

The man’s orange top and hat stood out against his pale skin and blue jeans. “I’m so sorry, you came out of nowhere.” He stuttered, obviously also taken aback by the current situation.

“Are you alright?" He asked again.

Amalie’s mouth opened, only to promptly shut. She was paralyzed. It felt like she was being strangled. Like no air could reach her brain to form thoughts, and no sound could escape her lips.

She looked up again into those worried brown eyes. Had brown eyes always been this beautiful? She let herself consider for just a moment. Before turning away, fighting to keep her feet underneath her, disappearing into the crowd of people.

Like she'd never been there in the first place.

____

Oscar Piastri liked to think he was a calm person.

Late breaking? No problem.

Media after a tough race weekend? Done.

Defending against Max Verstappen in a Redbull? Check.

Navigating a contract battle between your old team and new team? Slightly more difficult but still doable.

However, nothing. Nothing. Could have prepared the driver for the interaction that just occurred. For meeting her, for staring into the captivating iris's of Amalie Leclerc.

He knew she was Charles' younger sister, but that was where his knowledge of the girl that had just violently crashed into him ended.

Her face flashed into his mind, doe eyes and brown hair styled to perfection. He’d say she looked beautiful, like a vision in yellow silk if she hadn't looked so terrified. Like a deer caught in headlights.

All he could do was think, about her, about the paddock collision as he sat in the McLaren hospitality, staring at the small object before him.

“Mate I know we haven't had the greatest start to the season but if your good luck charm is a pink bunny, I have a few questions.” Lando Norris laughed, gesturing to the baby pink bunny key chain that was resting on the table in front of Oscar.

It belonged to her, to Amalie. She had dropped it in her frantic dash to escape him. But by the time Oscar noticed what she had left behind, she was gone. Lost in the crowd and he was hopeless to return it.

“It’s not mine.” Oscar replied, earning a raised eyebrow from his teammate.

“Well if you stole it from some poor kind then I’m going to have even more questions”. Lando wiggled his eyebrows as he flopped down into the spare chair across from his teammate.

“It’s Amalie Leclerc’s.” Oscar sighed, rubbing his temple as if that could ease his racing mind.

“Well now I have even more questions.” Lando smiled gleefully, leaning back in his chair as if ready for the hottest gossip he'd ever receive.

“I’m not sure I have any answers.” Oscar had barely begun to process what had happened. Running into a person in the paddock was normal, no big deal. It happened all the time in the packed space. But nothing about his interaction with the shaking brunette was normal.

Her eyes. Brown like his own, and full of fear. It was like she was frozen, as if the impact caused her mind to leave her body. With shaking hands and tears rimming her eyes she looked terrified.

“Well, what you do have is her property.” Lando mused, reaching across the table to grab the bunny, playfully flipping its floppy ears.

“Don’t touch it.” Oscar couldn't help but laugh at his teammates' antics, but felt protective of the small object that belonged to the beautiful Leclerc girl.

“She dropped it when we ran into each other." He explained as he confiscated the smiling bunny from his teammate.

“Oh?” Lando said, now distracted from the fact that his new toy had been stolen.

“I feel bad because she was on the verge of tears and looked so terrified, she just froze, and I was trying to ask her if she was ok but it was like she couldn't even hear me. Then she was gone before I even had the chance to process what happened.” The words tumbled out of the Australians mouth at lightning speed.

When Oscar looked up at Lando his teammate looked almost guilty.

“What? Do you know something I don't?" Oscar leaned forward, suddenly even more concerned than before.

“It really is not my place and I don’t know a lot, only small details that Charles has told me.” The curly haired papaya boy sighed. “None of that was your fault, she wouldn't have talked back to you anyways.”

“What do you mean?” Oscar replied, even more confused than when he entered this conversation.

“It has a name I just can’t remember it.” Lando clarified. “She has trouble speaking, especially to new people and in new situations. What happened wasn’t your fault, but she is probably missing that.” Lando pointed to the bunny innocently lying on the table, ears flopped to both sides.

“Shit I need to get that back to her but I don’t have time to track her down, I have to be in the car.” Oscar suddenly panicked, now more eager than before to get the object back to its rightful owner.

“DM her.” Lando shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Lando mate, I am not sliding into Amalie Leclerc’s DMs to tell her that I have her emotional support bunny after I probably just traumatized her.

“Hey you asked and I gave my best advice.” Lando laughed before they were both called away to prepare for the approaching session.

____

Amalie had not spoken a word since the morning. When she found Mallory she simply grabbed her hand and guided the two back to the paddock. Mallory hadn't pried, but Amalie could tell her friend suspected something had happened on her way to rescue the girl from the jammed Monaco streets.

The two now sat in the aggressively air conditioned Ferreri hospitality, sipping champagne in the pleasant company of Pascale and Alex. Her brothers were all down in the garage as the second free practice had just concluded, leaving Charles in a promising p2.

The three women were talking, but Amalie had long since tuned them out. Too focused on the instagram page pulled up on her phone.

Oscar Piastri’s Instagram.

Should I apologize for being weird? She asked herself. Will he even see it? Will he care?

She’d spent the last twenty minutes scrolling through rows of McLaren photos, F2 and F3 championship victories, and even all the way back to his Euro Cup Championship win in 2019.

Mustering the courage to click the message button, she was shocked to find one already waiting for her. Not just a message, but a photo. A photo of a very familiar figure. Doing a double take, Amalie clicked on the attachment, needing to see it in more detail.

The photo was simple. A baby pink bunny keychain perched on top of a Mclaren hat, legs politely crossed and ears flopped to each side. A photo likely taken in his driver's room.

But this was just any bunny. It was Petunia.

In a sudden panic, Amalie blindly reached for her bag, expecting to feel the familiar feel of the bunny’s fur, but was met with nothing but the smooth feel of her leather purse.

Oscar had Petunia.

She must have dropped her when they collided.

How had she not noticed?

Oscar Piastri

You left this little guy behind earlier today I would love to keep them around more but I get the feeling you need it more than me

Again I’m really sorry for earlier and hope you are ok

Amalie Leclerc

HER name is Petunia and yes I would love to have my child returned.

You are not going to make me pay a ransom are you?

And yes I am ok. Don’t worry its not your fault

Oscar Piastri

Would prefer if I led with the ransom request?

But no, I will hand Petunia over willingly

I would however consider payment in the form of your brother letting me by at the start of the race on Sunday.

Amalie Leclerc

At his home race?

You are a brave man Mr. Piastri

Oscar Piastri

Hey it was worth a shot

When can I get the precious child back to you?

Amalie Leclerc

Are you still in the paddock? Could you meet me outside the Ferrari hospitality?

Oscar Piastri

We are on our way

___

“What's got you smiling over there” Mallory leaned over to where Amalie was engrossed in her and Oscar's conversation.

Amalie simply tipped her phone screen so her friend could read.

“Interesting” Her friend raised an eyebrow. “I expect a full debrief on this later, would you like me to come with?” She asked, earning a nod from her friend.

“Well this should be fun.”

___

The bustle of the paddock beginning to die out. The sun cast a golden hour glow over the Mediterranean sea as Oscar made the journey over to Ferrari with a smiling Petunia in hand. His gip loosened ever so slightly upon turning the corner, upon seeing her in all her sun kissed glory.

Amalie was standing outside, cheeks flushed with her hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Soft brown against the light yellow of her dress.

She noticed him a moment later, as did the blonde standing behind her. Not overbearing, just protective, supportive. He noticed she was calmer than their last interaction. Still tense, guarded, but not paralyzed with fear.

“I think she had fun on her little field trip to Mclaren. Gave her a tour and everything. However I think she fits your color scheme better.” He handed Petuina over to her rightful owner with a playful bow.

Upon accepting the offer and clipping Petunia safely back into her resting place, Amalie looked up at Oscar with a gentle smile.

God that smile. Those eyes. He didn't need words, he knew what those eyes were saying. Thank you, they whispered through the sunset paddock.

“Anytime she wants to come back over to papaya, you know where to find me.” He smiled, looking into her eyes and the tiny golden flecks that lived there one last time before turning away.

___

Oscar’s papaya figure shrank smaller and smaller as Amalie watched his every step, analyzing the way his body moved. Noticing the way his shoulders were loose and his steeps were steady. The girl allowed her self to observe the retreating figure until until he disappeared back into the bright orange hospitality.

Amalie's cheeks burned. There was a strange fluttering in her stomach, one she couldn't put a name to. She had never felt this way before, she felt uneased, but not in a world ending way. Instead Amalie felt like she was teetering on the edge of something. Something light and fluffy instead of sharp and dangerous.

She attempted to quickly compose herself before turning around to meet Mallory.

“Oh we are so talking about this later.” Her friend poked, upon seeing her flushed cheeks and upturned lips. "You are explaining every bit of what just happened."

Taglist- @wilmonyibo7 @douseeme16 @amelisage @str-481

194 notes · View notes

tobesolnelyx · 2 days ago

Text

— baby daddy fratboy!lottie matthews x fem!reader

a/n: i’ve seen some of y’all asking for baby daddy lottie (like, insane amount of reqs in my inbox). soo, are we finishing this saga with jackie??

summary: you would rather get pregnant than let lottie leave you. literally. fluff (mostly). pregnant!reader. g!p character. parent!lottie

warnings: slight NSFW AT THE BEGGING - MDNI. toxic parents. baby trapping.

KNOCKING YOU UP…

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Lottie. It wasn’t about her reputation, or about the way she treated other girls. It was something completely different, something far scarier than being swapped out for a newer, better version of a girlfriend.

Lottie was genuinely loving. And in her own fucked up way, she always tried to show you that. Even if it only came through gifts and money. You tried to understand, because you suspected that might have been the only way Lottie herself had ever received love.

You watched her. At parties, at family gatherings, in the frat house when she told loud jokes and her glass clinked against the table again and again. You felt her hands occasionally wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

There were moments when Lottie grew quiet. During car rides when her grip on your thigh loosened and she stared at the road like she wasn’t really seeing it. When you sat in her room at the frat house and she suddenly stopped mid cleaning her controller, zoning out at a single spot.

At first you thought it was normal, but when she started distancing herself more and speaking to you less, you realized you might lose her. You had no idea if it was about another girl or Lottie’s family issues but you were convinced you couldn’t just let her slip away.

You made a plan. Disgusting, morally gray to the point of making you doubt yourself as you held the pack of condoms in your hand. All you had to do was poke holes. Tell her not to turn on the light and find the right moment. Just like that.

You waited for the right day, when Lottie was in a better mood, and dragged her quickly and decisively into the bedroom. Your mouth was on hers before she even had a chance to protest. You’d never undressed her so fast in your life. You shoved the condom into her hand before she could reach for the nightstand.

When it was over and you felt her warm seed inside you, you realized you had succeeded. All you could do now was hope you’d gotten pregnant.

For many days, nothing happened. No promised morning sickness. No sudden aversions, no food cravings. And when you thought you’d have to repeat your plan all over again, you cursed the day you ever came up with it.

The vomiting hit you so hard that you spent half a day at the toilet in the apartment Lottie had bought after a few months together. Lottie, who was wondering aloud if you might have stomach flu.

“I told you not to order that yesterday,” she muttered, watching your dinner from the night before land in the toilet.

Despite her furrowed brows and tired voice, she didn’t leave you alone for even a moment. One hand massaged your aching neck, the other kept your hair out of the way.

She looked at you with such care that the thought crossed your mind: maybe you hadn’t needed this pregnancy after all. Maybe you had misunderstood, and Lottie had never started pulling away.

You lifted your head from the toilet, the awful sour taste in your mouth making you grimace as you breathed through your lips. Through teary eyes, you glanced at Lottie.

“Maybe it’s from what Shauna cooked?” she sighed.

“Lottie?” you croaked.

She stared at the tiles, barely registering that you had spoken. Shook her head.

“I’ll ask her what she put in it, maybe…” she started again, but you gently caught her thigh to stop her.

“What is it, angel?” Her brown eyes sharpened, following your gaze.

“Buy me a pregnancy test,” you said, swallowing with difficulty and tightening your grip on her thigh as if you didn’t want her to leave you. “Please.”

Her mouth opened. Once. Twice. She held back from protesting. It made no sense, you’d both been careful. Lottie bought the condoms and the birth control pills. It made no sense at all.

And yet, you looked at her with such pained eyes that something inside her told Lottie you already knew. You were pregnant. No matter how much she wished it weren’t true.

She stood up on shaky legs. The color drained completely from her face, and then you heard the rustle of clothes, the jingle of keys, and the slam of the door.

PREGNANCY…

Chaos was the best word to describe what was happening in your apartment after the doctor confirmed you were pregnant. Lottie threw her car keys onto the counter the moment you two walked in. She wasn’t happy. You watched her storm into the kitchen, pull a beer from the fridge, and down it in a few gulps.

You tried to talk to her. But something was clearly eating Lottie alive from the inside. Word by word, it blew up into a full-blown argument. Lottie told you to get rid of the baby, so, rightfully if you ask me, you got angry and told her she could fuck off then.

“I’ll pay for the abortion, what don’t you understand?!” she finally screamed.

Something inside you burned. Even though your goal had been different from the start, you stepped up to her, jabbing your finger into her chest.

“This is my baby, and you don’t get to order me to get rid of it,” you said. Your voice shook from the sheer weight of emotion. Something in Lottie’s expression shifted, maybe even softened. “If you don’t like it, you can walk out right now and never come back.”

The kitchen went completely silent as you left, slamming the bedroom door behind you. The fridge hummed quietly. Lottie sat there, turning her glass of liquor in her hands, staring at the floor.

It took her a while, but after less than an hour, four cigarettes, and a twenty minute tooth brushing session, she finally stood in the bedroom doorway. Tail between her legs. She didn’t say she was sorry. Instead, she lay down on your belly as gently as she could, careful not to press, and placed her warm lips against your skin where your shirt had ridden up.

“I’ll stay,” she mumbled, searching for your hand in the dark and sliding it into her hair. The sheets rustled. Lottie breathed heavily. “No matter what you decide.”

Lottie, who the next morning was already browsing new apartments on her laptop.

“What are you doing?” you asked, pushing yourself up to sit. You were exhausted after the long night. The vomiting had really taken its toll.

Lottie immediately rushed to fix the pillow behind your back and pushed you gently down again. She was already on her feet, grabbing your favorite mug from the cupboard to make you weak tea without sugar.

“I’m looking for a bigger place. We’re not going to cram ourselves into something this small,” she replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

And indeed, after long consultations with you and after losing the battle against your deep hatred for modernism, Lottie bought a larger apartment. She organized the entire move, so in the end you simply walked into a ready to live in home.

Almost. Because a week later, Lottie was pushing a cart through a furniture store, stacked high with things meant to beautify your home. At the checkout, she tugged her cap down low over her face so she wouldn’t see the total price.

Still, Lottie didn’t stop spending money. Just two weeks later, the baby's room (which Lottie had renovated herself, determined that it has to be done right) was overflowing with baby monitors, tiny clothes, and a flood of toy cars.

The credit card statements didn’t go unnoticed by her parents, and so in the end Lottie had to face what she feared the most.

She invited them to dinner. Bought a new suit and helped you choose a dress.

And when, in the middle of an obscenely exclusive restaurant, she held your hand and announced to them that you were pregnant, the worst happened. They weren’t happy. In fact, the first thing you heard was that you should get rid of the baby.

Lottie’s expression hardened as she looked at her father. She shifted back slightly in her chair, then slid the car keys across the table to you.

“I’ll join you in a minute,” she said, nodding at you.

When she returned, you knew she had just lived through the argument of the century. She slammed the car door, and for a moment you both just sat there in complete silence and darkness.

You glanced at your belly, which was beginning to round, and bit your lower lip.

Lottie looked at you, then slipped off her jacket, left in her shirt and tie. Her larger hand landed on your belly, her lips found your temple.

She was still trembling. Still burning hot from too much emotion.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll find a job,” she whispered, and you realized they had threatened to cut her off if you kept the baby.

The Matthews took long weeks to come around, but eventually Lottie got a cold phone call from her father, telling her she should start planning a wedding. Maybe without affection, but it was the closest thing to acceptance you were going to get.

Lottie, who immediately threw herself into planning. You skipped the proposal, because, truthfully, at that moment it was more of a formality, a way not to shatter the Matthews’ reputation. She only got you a proper, expensive ring.

Once again, chaos reigned, but this time it was a far more pleasant kind, if it could be called that. You drowned in wedding preparations. Choosing the hall and the dress, the cake, arranging the seating. Enough to make you forget the unpleasantness of pregnancy. And that was the best medicine Lottie could have given you.

She still helped you. In fact, she handled everything, seating you in the middle of the wedding hall and adjusting things to your liking. She spent entire evenings arranging seating charts, guests’ travel, menus, cakes. All you had to do was nod or shake your head.

Not to mention that somehow, in all of that, she still found the time to drive you to classes, clean the apartment, and cook your meals.

You learned to treasure those evenings when Lottie massaged your legs or drew you a bath. Quiet evenings, without parties, without the stink of alcohol or cigarettes. There was something beautiful about it.

And then, Lottie, who quit college altogether, saying she didn’t need it anyway. That sooner or later she’d end up in her father’s company. Were her parents happy about that? Not really. But Lottie found her place in the routine. In the preparations.

And so, very quickly, but still, just a few months later, with your belly round and obvious, you were dancing at your wedding, held in Lottie’s arms all night long.

The very next day, right after your wedding night, Lottie was driving you to the hospital to give birth.

BIRTH…

Of course everything was planned before. Even the damned private clinic with every comfort imaginable for expecting mothers. Not that you cared, when it felt like the baby was ripping your body apart, and the pain was so strong you could do nothing but scream.

Lottie had her own waiting room, where she sat in silence until it was over.

Her leg bounced as she sank into a plush armchair, staring at the little lamp on the table that cast warm light across the room. Her heart hammered in her chest.

After three hours she couldn’t take it anymore and called Shauna. She had never heard herself sound like that. Her voice was soft, subdued. She sat with the phone for two more hours, talking about everything and nothing.

Until finally the nurse announced it was over.

For the first few seconds, the baby scared you half to death, silent, no cry, no sound at all until at last he let out a wail so loud you nearly cried yourself from relief.

When the nurses left you, Lottie, and the baby alone for a moment, Lottie stood over the incubator and tilted her head. She understood then that she had a family. Not the kind that handed her hundred dollar bills instead of apologies. Not the kind that left her alone in a giant empty house as a teenager, never showing her love.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead.

That night she slept on the floor in the room next to yours. The nurses offered her a proper bed, but she refused, clutching your hand the entire time.

Even her mother called in the morning, asking if everything was okay.

FIRST MONTHS…

At first, she was distant. Not because she didn’t love the baby. She felt nothing but love. But she was terrified she might do something wrong. Even so, she always sat close when you nursed the little one. Always watched you rock the baby to sleep, play with them. She was learning.

You had to return to college. So she stayed with the baby all day.

Preparing formula was black magic at first. Naps and early morning wake ups were a nightmare.

Until Lottie figured things out. And now, you’d come home to Lottie, the same girl you once feared might leave you, carrying the baby on her shoulders, racing around the apartment with the little one. Playing with toy cars. Eating lunch with her baby. Or in the garage, sitting them on her lap at the wheel, making car noises.

She gave herself to her baby completely, treating theirs babble as if it were the most serious conversation, watching cartoons with them, pretending to be fascinated.

“I’d like another one,” she murmured to you one night, half-asleep in bed. “Whenever you’re ready. It’s your decision. You sacrificed the most.” She traced your wedding band with her fingers as she spoke.

No matter how morally gray the pierced condom had been, you couldn’t feel guilty when Lottie sat on the balcony with the baby on her lap, telling them stories about the stars and the moon.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #my writing #lottie matthews x fem!reader #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews

242 notes · View notes

bingbongsupremacy · 3 days ago

Text

Marrying A Stranger Pt. 3

Pairing: Hangman x Fem(Pregnant)!Reader

Warning: Unexpected Pregnancy, Inspired by Purple Hearts, Y/N's parents are given random names, Parents letting down their kid

Part Summary: You and Jake finally get married.

Series Summary: You get pregnant with Jake's baby, leading to a marriage of convenience. Will things last?

*Not Proofread* Pt. 1 Pt.2

No description of body type or race

I wake up feeling the need to throw up, the same feeling I've been dealing with for weeks now. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it still hits like a punch to the gut every morning. The clock says it's barely five, but there's no point in trying to fall back asleep. I know I won’t be able to.

Instead, I shuffle into the kitchen, sip on some water, and try to take advantage of my rare day off. I pick up the clothes that have been draped over a chair for way too long, run the vacuum, and wash a few dishes. Little things to keep my mind busy.

A few hours later, there's a knock at my apartment door. When I open it, I'm met with the warm, familiar faces of my parents. They're both dressed nicely for the courthouse later. My mom's left hand is hooked tightly around the handle of a large gift bag, while my dad's carrying a decently sized grey storage box.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad." I pull the door open wider and step back to let them in.

They greet me with smiles, my mom immediately setting the bag down so she can pull me into a hug.

"Thanks for coming early," I mumble into her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume.

"Of course, sweetheart. It's your wedding day. Traditional wedding or not, it's still a day to celebrate you." she says softly before pulling away. I instantly miss the sense of comfort her hugs always seem to bring. She studies my face with that mom look. Equal parts concern and curiosity. "How are you feeling today? You look a little tired."

"Well," I say with a faint smirk, "I only spent ten minutes puking my guts out compared to the normal twenty, so… not as bad as yesterday."

She gives my arm a sympathetic squeeze. "I remember those days. I definitely don't miss them."

"I know I won't either when they stop. I just hope they go away when I get into the second trimester." I let out a small sigh.

My mom frowns but keeps her voice gentle. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could take it from you. But it'll all be worth it when you get to meet your baby. That's how I felt when I held you for the first time."

"Thanks, mom." I give her a small smile.

My dad sets the storage box down on my kitchen table and says, "We brought a few things for you."

"Oh, you guys didn't have to do that."

My mom picks the bag up again and sets it on the table besides the storage box. "We wanted to."

"Thanks guys." I smile. I open the gift bag first. Underneath the light blue tissue paper is a brand new set of kitchen knives, something I've been needing to get for a while now. My knives are all well past dull. Next to the pack of knives is a large thick white book and a smaller worn journal I've seen before. It's my mom's family cookbook. The cookbook is filled with dozens of handwritten recipes, the pages aged and corners crinkled from years of use.

On the smooth white cover of the larger book, are golden letters that spell out 'Our Family'.

"I also went ahead and put a flash drive in the bag full of pictures of you growing up. That way you can look through them and pick which ones you want to use." My mom explains. "I thought that having a scrapbook might be a good way for you and Jake to get to know each other. You can tell him about your childhood, and he can tell you about his. That way you can get to know each other better and start documenting things for the baby."

"That's so sweet..." I gently run my fingers over the top of the bumpy letters. Tears prick the back of my eyes at their gesture.

"We went through a bunch of your old baby things and put together a box of all of the clothes and smaller things. Books, shoes some swaddles. We know you don't know if it's a girl or a boy yet, but there's a few things that can work either way and we figured you can save the clothes for the future in case you end up having a baby girl someday." My dad opens the box revealing rows and rows of neatly folded baby clothes and blankets. "There's still a lot more things in the garage we have to look for, but this is what we could find on short notice."

"Oh you guys." My voice trembles. I feel a tear of gratitude slip down my cheek. "Thank you. I love you so much." I give them both a tight hug.

"We love you too, kiddo." My dad gently ruffles my hair.

My parents and I spend a few hours catching up. We talk about the baby and Jake. The future.

I know they're worried about me. They like Jake so far, but he's still relatively a stranger I'm getting married to. Of course they're concerned.

Eventually the time comes for me to get ready for our appointment at the courthouse. I hesitate while looking through the closet. Do I wear something fancy? Is Jake wearing a suit? Should I dress casual? Jeans or a dress? Is a dress too much for a court wedding?

Is it weird if I text Jake to ask what he's wearing?

What if I show up in a dress and he shows up in jeans? Or what if I underdress and he shows up in a suit?

"Wear what makes you feel beautiful, sweetheart." My mom says as though she can hear my worries.

I turn to look over at her. She's patiently sitting on my bed, watching me look through my closet. I didn't realize she came in.

"This is still your wedding. It's something you'll remember forever. You deserve to feel like a beautiful bride. Dress or jeans, wear whatever makes you feel like that."

She's right.

I don't know how long this is going to last with Jake. Maybe until the baby is born. Maybe a few years. Maybe forever. I don't know.

This might be my only wedding. I might not be having a big wedding with all of the bells and whistles, but this is still my wedding. I want to feel pretty.

I pick out the outfit I feel my best in and continue getting ready. By the time I'm done, it's time for us to get ready to go. My parents and I drive together to the courthouse, following the directions Jake sent to me yesterday.

When we pull into the parking lot, I immediately spot Jake's truck parked near the front of the building. He's early. I wonder how long he's been here?

He's standing outside of the vehicle, his back slightly turned toward us. He's wearing a fitted black suit that hugs his broad shoulders and muscles just right. Underneath the jacket, he's got on a dark blue button-up shirt with the top button left undone, giving him a relaxed but sharp look. His dark dress shoes gleam in the sunlight, and his hair is neatly combed to the side, clean and effortless. His eyes are focused on his phone which he's tightly holding in his hands. His expression is blank, his jaw slightly tensed.

I wonder what that's about.

My dad pulls into an empty space a few cars away from Jake. "You ready to do this, kiddo?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

We get out of the car and I begin to walk towards Jake. My parents head inside, giving us a little privacy.

Jake looks up when I say hello and ask if he's alright, his eyes flickering with a bit of distraction. "Oh, hey," he says, glancing down at his phone again before pocketing it with a small shrug. "It's nothing. I'm alright."

I nod but can tell he's still a little distant. We head inside the courthouse and tell the front desk we're here for a marriage. We're a bit early, but they direct us to the officiant's room anyways, my parents trailing behind us.

I glance over at Jake as we walk. His parent's aren't here. Are they really not going to show up? Maybe they're running late?

"Are your parents coming?" I ask, concerned that we might be leaving them behind if they're running late. I might not like them very much, but they're still Jake's parents and this is our wedding. Jake deserves to have his parents here if he wants to.

Jake tenses, just a little. "My uh mom texted, said they won't be able to make it."

Suddenly, his fixation on his phone earlier makes sense. He was texting his mom.

I swallow a lump. I know they don't approve of our marriage or of me, but I thought they'd at least show up for Jake. This is a big thing, one most parents want to be apart of. How could they miss something so big for their son?

I think about how my parents have handled this situation. A mixture of gratitude and guilt fills my chest. My parents have been trying to support me through everything. Jake's are choosing not to support him.

If Jake's mom just texted, that probably means he hasn't seen them today. He's spent the whole day, his wedding day, by himself without any sort of familial support. No one to give him gifts or talk to about his fears and worries. He might not have had anyone to help him figure out whether to dress fancy or casual, and to tell him that what he picked looks nice on him.

The thought of Jake spending the entire day alone, patiently waiting for our appointment to come without anyone there to spend time with him hurts my heart. He has to feel so alone.

He shrugs, but I see it in his eyes. It stings more than he lets on. "It's their choice. Doesn't change what we gotta do."

That makes me feel even more guilt, but I say nothing more.

The baby and I are the reason his parents aren't here today. He knows it. I know it. They hate us so much they're willing to hurt their son to show their disapproval.

I didn't mean for this to happen. Any of it. The pregnancy... the money problems... the stress... and I definitely didn't mean to tear a hole in Jake's family.

We reach the officiant, a kind-looking person who begins by confirming our paperwork. We both present our IDs, sign the marriage license, and then the officiant reads the short ceremony, a simple California courthouse wedding.

The entire time my mind is on Jake and our situation. I'm causing him so many problems, and I don't know how to fix it.

The officiant says the usual words about commitment and partnership.

I glance over at Jake. His posture is perfectly straight, like he's taking in orders from a commanding officer. His eyes are fixed on mine, holding my gaze steadily. His expression is calm, almost stoic, like this is an obligation he's fulfilling rather than a moment of love. I mean, it technically is. We're doing this for our baby. Not because we want to. But that doesn't stop the twinge of pain that stabs my heart.

This is not how I pictured my life turning out. I'd always pictured marrying someone I loved and who loved me back just as much. I pictured my wedding day would be full of happiness and excitement. That when I looked into the eyes of the man I was marrying, I'd see love and warmth. Not absolutely nothing.

I imagine Jake had the same idea and hopes for his own life, if he even wanted to get married. It might not have been in his plans at all.

Now neither of us gets what we hoped for.

I wonder if he's thinking about what could've been, just like I am and have been doing the past few weeks. I wonder if he regrets asking me to marry him, but was just felt too bad to take it back. Will he end up resenting me and the baby for causing him to have to do this?

I hope not.

I'm so caught up in my own head that I miss the officiant saying: "You may kiss the bride."

Jake leans in closer, his eyes searching mine for permission like he's asking if it's alright. I hold his gaze and give a barely-there nod, my heart picking up pace. Slowly, his lips brush against mine, warm, soft, and tentative at first. The kiss deepens slightly, but doesn't go much further. Time seems to pause around us, the world narrowing down to just this quiet connection.

I can feel the slight tremor of nervousness in him, a stark contrast to the way he kissed me that night in the back of his truck. That night, he was confident, like he knew what he was doing and what to do next. Now, it's barely noticeable, but I can tell he's unsure.

The kiss is over quickly. Jake pulls away, creating some distance in between us. He glances away, like he's not sure what to do next.

It's official. We're married.

The officiant congratulates us with a warm smile before asking if we want a photo taken of us with my parents. I glance at Jake, wondering if he'll feel sad his parents won't be in the photo.

Jake catches my look and answers for us before I can say a word. "Sure, we'd love one, ma'am." His voice is steady, but there's something quiet and sure in the way he says it, like he's telling me without words that those photos are for us, not for his parents. Like he knows I'm thinking about his parents not being there, but he wants me to know it's okay. That this moment is just as important for me and my parents as is it for him.

My parents stand on either side of us, my mom next to me and my dad next to Jake. I feel Jake's arm gently press against my back. He flashes the camera his signature charming smile, his white teeth showing. I do my best to look happy for the camera, like I'm not feeling a million things at once.

A few pictures are taken before the appointment ends. We walk out of the court house quietly, none of us sure what to say. What can you say about a marriage of convenience? Congratulations?

My dad breaks the silence, glancing down at his watch. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."

"I was just about to say the same thing," my mom agrees, looking between Jake and me. "Why don't we all go get dinner?"

I glance at Jake to see if he's up for it. He nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds good to me, I could use some food." He gives me a small smile. Like he's acknowledging the feelings of awkwardness and uncertainty between us, and he's trying to lessen that.

We leave the courthouse together, the crisp air outside a relief after the still, stuffy tension inside. My parents head toward their car, and I pause, suddenly unsure. Should I ride with them? Or with Jake? We're legally married now. That thought still makes my head spin, but we're not a real couple. Is it weird if I ride with my parents?

At the same time, I can't just invite myself into Jake's truck. It's his truck. This all could've been avoided if I just drove my parents in my car here. Why didn't I think of that before?

Jake must notice me lingering. He tilts his head, that sharp-eyed attention locked right on me. "Want to ride with me?" he asks, voice low and casual, like he already knows my answer but he's giving me the choice anyway.

I take a breath and nod. "Yeah… I'd like that."

He gives me a quick grin before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Good," he says, almost like he's checking something off in his head. Then he pulls out a small velvet box, holding it between two fingers.

My heart skips. "Jake…"

Is that what I think it is?

He flips it open, revealing a simple, beautiful wedding ring. Nothing flashy, just a delicate band with a tiny diamond that catches the sunlight.

I feel my breath catch at the sight. My eyes widen.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you somethin' bigger," he says, scratching the back of his neck like he's not used to feeling awkward. "I didn't want you to miss out, since you couldn't have a real weddin'. You at least deserve a ring and I figured you might like one."

I blink, caught between surprise and something warmer. I can't believe he went out and got me a ring, that's so sweet. "Jake, it's beautiful. I love it. But you didn't have to get me anything. I hope you didn't feel pressured to-"

"Didn't feel pressured," he cuts in, reassuring me. "I wanted to. You deserve a ring. Fake relationship or not, you're my wife now. And any wife of mine deserves a ring."

I feel heat crawl up my cheeks from him calling me 'his wife'.

I'm a wife now.

He takes my left hand gently, his thumb brushing over my skin before he slides the ring onto my finger with care. His fingers are warm on my skin and they leave light tingles anywhere he touches me.

I stare down at the ring, smiling. It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. "It's perfect. I love it, Jake. Thank you."

He grins wide, that proud, sunlit Jake Seresin smile that makes it hard to look at him for too long. "Knew you would," he says, glancing at my hand.

Jake opens my door and I slide into the seat, still glancing down at the ring, still not believing it's there. He closes the door for me, jogs around to the driver's side, and climbs in. The engine roars to life, country music low on the radio, and the windows rolled down to let in the warm evening air.

My parents follow Jake's truck to a nearby restaurant. The drive is quiet, aside from an occasional comment about the beautiful coastline and setting sun. I feel a bit better than in the courthouse, less stressed.

Jake and I might not love each other, but we're going to try to make this work. He doesn't hate me, at least I don't think. Why would he go out of his way to buy me a ring if he did?

We pull up to a nice restaurant. It's fairly busy, but not overwhelming. A warm glow spills out of the windows, and couples and families are trickling in and out, dressed somewhere between casual and date-night polished.

The dinner passes by quickly, smoother than the night before. Jake slips into the role with ease, respectful and attentive, listening carefully to every word my parents say. He asks the right questions, laughs in all the right places, and never once lets the conversation fall flat. Where he's bold and teasing at the bar, here he's polished, careful, almost like he's determined to undo the damage his parents left behind the night before.

He doesn't let his ego run wild, something I've seen many times with his friends.

It's strange, seeing him like this. Not the cocky pilot who thrives on attention, but someone softer around the edges, someone who's trying. He leans in when my dad speaks, nodding thoughtfully, and my mom practically beams at how polite he is. It's clear he's going out of his way to impress them, to leave them with something better than the sour taste his family gave.

By the time dessert plates are cleared, the tension that lingered after last night feels like it's been erased.

When it's time for us to say goodbye to my parents, a feel a twist of uncertainty. The calm dinner gave me a break from my worries about the future. Now that it's over, I remember there's so many things we still have to do.

Everything's moved so quickly and combined with both of our busy schedules, we haven't really had time to get to know each other or figure out the next steps. We still haven't talked about who's moving where or when.

Like the night before, Jake drives me home. The ride is quiet, but not in a bad way. My parents liked him, and that thought keeps circling in my head. When he parks outside my house, I find myself hesitating. I could just say goodnight and go inside like yesterday.

But, we're married now. There's a lot we have to figure out, uncertainty. I bite my lip, gathering my courage.

"Do you… want to come in for a bit? Talk about where we go from here?" I ask when we make it to my apartment door. I keep my eyes trained on my keys which I'm pushing into the lock.

"Yeah." He agrees, following me into the apartment. "I think that'd be best."

Inside, I head straight for the kitchen, nerves buzzing under my skin. "You want anything to drink?"

"I'm alright, thanks." he says quietly, looking around my home.

I nod and grab a water bottle from my fridge, opening up the lid and taking a sip.

"What's this?" He taps the lid of the big gray storage bin sitting in the middle.

"Oh." I walk over, running a hand across the unsecure lid. I forgot to close it this morning. "My parents brought it over earlier. It's for the baby. Just… some of my old things they saved."

He slightly pushes the lid to the side A tiny folded blanket rests on top, soft from years of being washed. Underneath are little clothes, pairs of tiny shoes and other things I looked at earlier with my parents.

I watch Jake quietly as he picks up one of the pairs of shoes, holding it in his palm like he can't quite believe how small they are.

His hands engulf the tiny shoes, making them look like they belong to a doll instead of a real life child.

"Whoa," he says quietly. "Hard to wrap my head around it. A few months from now, we're gonna have a little human wearin' these."

"I know, it's crazy. It's all so small. It's hard to believe a person can actually start out this tiny." I gently run my fingers over a tiny white onesie.

Jake gently sets the shows back down, his expression thoughtful.

A few minutes later, we end up on the couch.

"So," Jake starts, resting an arm along the back of the couch. "We should probably talk about a few things. Where we're gonna live, for starters. Are you open to movin', or does this place have your heart?"

I shake my head, a small grin on my lips. "Definitely not. I could live without the constant arguing of my neighbors."

"I have an apartment on base right now. I'll take the marriage certificate to housin' to get us put on a list for somethin' bigger. I'm not sure how long the wait will be, but for now... you could move in with me. Be easier than stayin' here." He glances towards my door. "And I'm not gonna lie, I'd feel a bit better if you were out of this neighborhood."

His jaw flexes, like he's debating whether to admit the rest, then he goes on. "Walkin' you up the past couple nights… I didn't like it. Had me lookin' over my shoulder the whole time. Can't imagine how it feels for you, doin' that alone, night after night. You've had to get used to it, sure, but that doesn't mean you should have to."

"Coming home late is definitely my least favorite part of the day." I admit. I pause for a moment. "Will you get in trouble for moving me in? I don't want you to get in trouble for me."

Jake shakes his head. "I won't get in trouble, don't worry. I checked. If I was livin' in the barracks... that'd be a different situation. We should be okay."

I think for a moment.

It's a great offer, one I'd be stupid to pass up. Nothing's happened to me here so far, but that doesn't mean I'll always be this lucky. And I've got a kid to think about now. The baby's safety is priority.

"Alright, if you're sure you won't get in trouble, I'll move in with you." I give him a small smile. "Thank you, Jake. It means a lot that you're doing all this for the baby... for me."

"Of course, your safety is important to me." He replies honestly. "Until you move in, I'll keep walkin' you to your door. Just let me know which days you're going to be closin' the bar or out late, I'll be here. I'll make sure you get home safe." His eyes meet mind. He's completely serious. "And if anything ever happens, or if someone makes you feel unsafe or scared to be here-or anywhere for that matter, you call me. I'll deal with it."

My chest tightens, a mix of gratitude and something warmer twisting in my stomach. He really means it. Every word. It's not just talk. He's serious, and the way he's looking at me makes it clear he'll follow through. I feel a small, foolish flutter of relief knowing I won't have to walk home alone. But it's more than that. The thought that someone actually cares this much, that he's willing to step in for me without hesitation… it hits me harder than I expected. I want to say something, anything, but the words stick in my throat. All I can do is nod, a little overwhelmed by the depth of how much he's looking out for me.

I'm going to be okay. We're going to be okay.

Jake's making sure of that.

-------

taglist: @aggiehark @evangelineimagine @universallymoonwitch @read-just-cant-stop @t-rexs-world @spideegwen @bellarkeselection @tater4life @dizzybee03 @varvarafromgr @lunatygerqueen @olipratton @livingmybestfictionallife @jackiehollanderr @khouse712 @edelweissbob @xhazzz @slutty-spidey @bookkeeperlove @universallyneckhoagieshark @tgmreader @mizzzpink @lafrone @talknerdytome5391 @fortjackson @nina208-journey-to-consistency @taeteddybear @librazwannahavefun @bigmantemmy @nerdgirljen @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @laserpente @starshinegrl @findingpeterpan @allmyspideys @7dreambaby @sourmooonlight @primadonnasdream @hzstry8 @kvmitchell

Hope I got everyone! So sorry this has taken me FOREVER to get out and that it's a bit short. I'm starting University next week so I've been trying to prepare for that, life's kinda crazy rn lolll. Hope you all enjoyed!

198 notes · View notes