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awrkive · 2 days ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 6 — JJK (m.)

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 14.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc, software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 arguments,, lowkey,, emotional constipation like always, kinda angsty if u squint. Also jungkook kinda abuses the fuck out of 23278648 pet names available in the world even eye laughed... SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent bl*wjob scene lmfao, a teeny tiny bit of c*mplay, fing*ring, c*nniling*s, penetr*tive s*x (p in v), c*wgirl s*x, protected s*x, multiple org*sms, jungkook has a filthy mouth 🫤😑😑 ]

NOTES i dont have anything to say except enjoyyy!! let me know your thoughts in my inbox gimme ur theories gimme ur keeb smashes gimme ur 2746th "i want nb jk so bad" 🤓☝🏼💓💓

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

You like to think of yourself as a reasonable person. You make okay decisions, even though it takes you a few weeks and a thousand debriefs. You can’t buy something off the rack without going through 10-year-old posts on Reddit, and you certainly are very keen with people you let into your life – given your two to three friends.

The point is, while you may be a bit of a klutz, you take your adult life kind of seriously, and especially your relationships.

You were so sure that what happened back at the motel with Jungkook when you were stranded was going to be this whole… one-time-thing. That you both were just horny, stuck in a weird situation, just heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment, and afterwards he would tell you to forget about it. And if he did, you’d accept it. It might crush you a little bit inside, but you know you’ll be fine to keep going on with your life even though that might have been the best orgasm you’ve had since forever and you’d like to experience it again.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that it happened. It was how you felt the next morning.

There was no regret.

When you opened your eyes – bleary and barely awake because of the little hours you got in – Jungkook wasn’t in bed. He was coming back through the door with a bag of pastries and coffee from what you assumed was the local bakery. He told you everything was handled, his car and your stuff, and you could take your time getting ready. You’d head back once you were set.

You fell asleep again on the ride home. Jungkook walked you to your apartment and bid you a kind smile when you said goodbye.

And nothing happened after. No awkward texts. No slow fade. And you were just so ready for the worst thing to happen. Like him suddenly going MIA on you or something…

But now it’s the day after, and you’re together again in his car after he texted you to ride with him on the way home after work – cramped up in the driver’s seat with you on his lap.

Frantically making out.

“Oh,” you let out a soft moan, carding your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, not even caring about how you’re messing up his hairdo.

A needy, impatient sort of heat builds between you two. His mouth is on yours, hands exploring like he couldn’t decide where to start. Another moan slips out from you he cups the swell of your ass through your trousers, and a rush of frustration bubbles up in your chest.

God, why didn’t you wear a skirt?

“You smell good,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck, kissing a slow trail up to your jaw before groaning as you rock against him, grinding against the growing bulge pressing up through his slacks.

“Y-yeah?” you mumble, tugging at his tie and popping open the first three buttons of his shirt. Your fingers graze his chest, warm and solid and stupidly inviting.

“This is the scent you wore back at the party.” He untucks your blouse from your waistband, his warm hands sending shivers down your spine when they travel across the span of your back.

Yeah. And also the scent you exclusively use for special, big occasions. Because in the true broke girl tradition, there’s always that unreasonably priced perfume you keep in your vanity while you spritz the hell out of the cheap one. You’ve only used it a total of ten times ever since you bought it a month ago, the eleventh time being now… which is just a regular day in the office.

But being in Jungkook’s lap and making out with him in his car is not regular day in the office. So maybe you lucked out on spraying that expensive perfume – totally because it was just there on your vanity, by the way – and not because you were expecting something to happen today.

Totally.

“Uh, yeah,” you shift on his lap. “It was on sale.”

Which is probably information he did not need and a total bald-faced lie.

He hums, kisses dropping down to your sternum, hands getting heavier under your clothes. You take his face in your hands again to press your mouth on him, your moan getting swallowed by his eager reciprocity, both in the movement of his tongue inside your mouth and his erection that’s making you wet your panties as you rock your hips against him.

Jungkook’s fingers trace the cups of your bra. “Can I?” He asks, mouth agape. You don’t even know what he meant, you just nod. A second later and he’s squeezing your breasts in his palms.

“S-so you wanted to drive me home for this?” you arch your brow at him playfully, grinding against his lap and relishing in the warmth of his hands on your chest. God, you wish he’d do something about your bra soon.

Jungkook chuckles, nipping your jaw. “No. I wanted to ask you to come over to my place to have dinner.”

As if that triggered your intestines, your stomach suddenly growls – quite loudly in the confined space of his car and around the quiet parking lot of the building.

Jungkook freezes, staring at you.

You shut your eyes close in embarrassment, groaning. “Ugh, sorry. I haven’t eaten at all today and you mentioning dinner is making me remember that.”

“Oh…”

Jungkook reluctantly watches you as you carefully leave his lap, completely halting your previous activity. He grips your hand as he helps you transfer to the passenger’s seat, looking at you as you put your hair up and tuck your shirt.

He adjusts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. You can’t help but eye the very obvious outline of his dick in his pants, and it’s very huge, alright, making you grin.

“I hope that’s not gonna be a problem.”

Jungkook takes in the mischief in your eyes and scoffs playfully, shaking his head as he starts the ignition to drive.

You spend about thirty minutes in the shower – which is definitely not at all your usual routine – but it did the job. You smell like raspberries now, and the outfit you pulled on afterwards looks casual enough for Jungkook not to suspect what’s going on underneath. Just an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Innocent. Normal.

But you have on a lacy pair of white thong… just in case something does happen tonight. At least you’re the least bit prepared…

When you look at your phone, it’s already 10:15pm, and Jungkook told you to be over at his place at 10:20. You check yourself in the mirror one last time and head straight to the kitchen where you grab the plastic container of a batch of choco-chip cookies you baked the second he dropped you off earlier.

You’ve perfected the recipe now, you’re sure of it.

But just as you make a beeline for your door, a sudden warmth gushes between your thighs.

An all too familiar feeling by now.

Oh no.

You dash to the bathroom, tug your pajama pants down, slide off your panties and – yep. There it is. A bright red stain against the flimsy white fabric that went right through the pants.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, frowning. Of all the nights to get your period, of course it had to be this one.

You had showered. Prepped. Put on the g-string. And you were this close to maybe – possibly – having sex with Jungkook. You hadn’t said anything about it, not outright, but come on. That impulsive make-out session in the car earlier? The way he kept adjusting himself? The tension practically humming between you?

Yeah, something was definitely going to happen.

Well, probably not anymore.

Grumbling, you toss your pants into the laundry and rummage through your cabinet for a pad. You move like you’re trudging through emotional mud, begrudgingly pulling on a clean pair of a less sexier granny panties and fresh bottoms.

So much for that.

It’s not like you had any of this figured out anyway. No “so, what happened” talk, no conversations about the night at the motel or whatever is… happening now. And now your uterus has decided to sabotage you. Amazing.

Still, cookies in hand and spirits only mildly deflated, you head out of your apartment and make your way to Jungkook’s porch.

He opens the door on the second buzz, greeting you with a grin that makes your stomach flip. Even more so when you realize he’s wearing sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Ugh. This man.

“Hi.”

“Hey, come in,” Jungkook says, eyeing the plastic in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Cookies.” you bring it up to your chest. “I made them real quick so it’s not a lot. But I can assure you it’s better now and you definitely won’t get food poison.”

He chuckles, leading the way to his living area. “You say that as if I got food poisoning the first time.”

“Maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You know you didn’t have to bring something, right?”

“Uh-huh.,” you mutter, following him in, “but since you’re making dinner, I thought I could take care of dessert.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, your face scrunch up.

Jungkook pauses just long enough to glance back at you, amused, before shaking his head again with another soft laugh.

What? What did he think you meant by that? Geez…

Comfortable silence settles between you, the soft clinking of wine glasses and the distant narration of some random BBC documentary filling the space. You teased Jungkook again about his massive TV – said the faces look so big that it’s just kind of funny – but really, it’s kind of cute the way his ears flush red when he gets shy talking about his stuff.

You talk. About work, mostly. Jungkook’s been pulling longer shifts, taking on more than usual. You tell him about your days have been the same lately, just mindless repetition. He compliments the cookies you brought, and after a bit of coaxing, admits the first batch you made for him weeks ago were kind of bad. You laugh and pretend to be offended.

It was nice.

Somehow, you talk about everything and nothing. Not once either of you mentioned the motel. Not the kiss in the parking lot. Not even a vague nod to the tension that’s been following you around like a ghost.

And maybe that’s the problem.

It feels like Jungkook’s waiting for you to jump the gun first. But how the hell are you supposed to do that? How do you casually bring up the fact that he kissed you like he meant it? How exactly are you going to talk about the night you shared a kiss with the man you think you’ve liked for so many weeks now? How are you going to talk about how he made you orgasm to sleep because it was the best you've ever had since and it was so much better than the scenarios you’ve made up in your head? And god, those scenarios didn’t even live up to the very real thing.

You want to bring it up. God, you need to. Not because you’re hopeful that this night would lead to something – but because you just need to know if he would want to do that again sometime.

But something in you is scared that Jungkook will suddenly speak up and tell you the night was a mistake and you both should get over it.

But you also know that kiss in the parking lot must’ve meant something. The way you just jumped at each other like you weren't in a public space and Jungkook not minding one bit must’ve meant that he wanted it too.

That maybe, just like you, he can’t help but notice the thick tension up in the air as you sit on the couch so close to each other, his familiar scent overwhelming your senses, and the way he looks so cozy in his white shirt and… grey sweatpants. Ugh. You swear you weren’t going to pay any attention to it as soon as he opened that door, but how could you not when he just looks way too effortlessly good and you know exactly what it's hiding–

“You want some more?”

Your thoughts are cut short when Jungkook suddenly speaks, looking at your wine glass.

“Uh…” you glance at the clock. “No, I should probably get going. It’s almost 11. I have work tomorrow– we have work tomorrow,” you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at the wall clock across the room.

Just like that, you go back to your shell again, overwhelmed by your anxiety and fear of rejection.

But for a brief second, Jungkook looks disappointed by your response, although he’s quick to wipe that off with a smile.

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Okay. Well maybe you didn’t really want him to say that at all.

Hiding your disappointment this time, you stand up from the seat and let Jungkook talk you into leaving the wine glasses on the coffee table as opposed to bringing it to the kitchen yourself, as Jungkook insisted he’ll take care of it once you leave.

Jungkook’s hand lingers on your lower back as you stand by his door, ready to say goodbye.

“Thanks for the dinner.” you say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook smiles. “We can do this again sometime.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Alright. See you tomorrow, then?”

You halt your steps, lips curling into a half-smile. “That flatters me.”

Jungkook leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was hoping so.”

You bite back a grin, nod, turning to leave. But…

“__—”

“Jungkook—”

Your head snaps quickly to his direction, and you both stare at each other in surprise. Jungkook’s gaze melts into a soft look.

“You first.”

“No, you first.”

“___,” he says with a chuckle, coaxing.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.

Just take the chance, something in your head tells you.

And you took the bait.

“This is going to sound incredibly stupid,” you start, voice low and hesitant. “but what happened back at the motel — I’m not sure if we’re allowed to talk about that again — but we kind of kissed this afternoon and I… I don’t know what that meant. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I wanna do it again sometime. If you’re willing,” you voice wavers, trying to look into his eyes but the weight of your words crawl deep in your skin it makes you scared to even make eye contact. “But if you’re not, then that’s totally fine. We can forget it happened.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Panic starts to rise in your chest – until Jungkook steps forward.

“If I’m willing?” He echoes, blinking like he’s not sure he heard you right.

You nod, wary. “Y-yeah…?”

He steps closer, and your breath catches.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since then?” He takes a tentative touch to your hips, and when you don’t say a thing or make a move to pry him off, Jungkook takes a hold of you to pull you closer, making you gasp quietly. “Everytime I close my eyes, all I can think about is how I’ve held these hips as I licked you, kissed you, and touched you. I’ve never been one to give in to my wants as easy as the way you made me when we walked back to my car this afternoon because all I wanted to do was to have a taste of you again, even though I would’ve liked for us to talk first. That means I can’t have enough,” Jungkook studies your face as he leans down, gaze so full of want, but there’s a certain control under his hold. It makes your breath hitch.

“And you want to know if I’m willing?” Jungkook tacks on, lifting his hand to caress your cheek, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. You anticipate his next words, but when he presses you closer – that’s when you feel it. The hard-on he’s sporting under the grey sweatpants you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you walked in on his apartment.

“Oh…” you gasp, reaching for his shoulder as you feel your knees slightly buckling.

Then, Jungkook chuckles, amused. But it’s dark and rich, and his boner is still very much pressing to your stomach.

In the heat of the moment, you stand on your tippy toes and kiss Jungkook.

He seems to be surprised at it first, but his arms slowly make their way around you to hold you as you tighten yours around his neck, letting out a soft moan when his tongue prods in.

You stumble inside, Jungkook walking you back inside his apartment all the while not breaking the kiss, and the next thing you know, he’s kicking off the door shut, hands travelling down to your legs to carry you across his apartment.

You yelp at the sudden way your feet get lifted off the ground, but Jungkook carries you with a certain grace as if you’re nothing but paperweight – hot tongue swirling around your mouth like kissing you was a lifeline.

He lays you down gently on the couch, trailing kisses along your jaw. When you grab at the hem of his shirt, he sits back to quickly rid himself off the material.

You bite on your bottom lip as soon as you see what’s on display. Wide chest, narrow waist, toned abdomen, and sculpted arms with ink. You would’ve liked to admire it more but Jungkook quickly goes back to kissing you after taking off his shirt, hands roaming all over your body as if he can’t quite decide where to put it at all. Then, he kneels in between your spread legs, slowly settling himself down on the floorboards. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his lips leave trail kisses down your neck to your sternum, until his hands slide your top off your stomach, kissing the exposed skin.

Your hands settle on his soft locks, where you admire the way he moves down your body, huge hands splayed on your skin, making you ache in between your legs.

Your eyes blow out as you remember exactly what’s in between your legs.

Fuck.

Before Jungkook can kiss you there, you grab at his shoulders. “Jungkook,”

He looks up quickly, fringe going in different directions, biceps unconsciously flexing at your touch. “Hm?”

Even though it pains you, you tell him, “We can’t tonight…”

“Ah, that’s alright,” He looks up at you in genuine concern. “You’re not feeling okay tonight?”

You shake your head. “No… that’s not it,” You make a face, feeling annoyed all over again. God. Hot sex was on the table. And your period just ruined it. “I got my period. My cycle usually starts at the end of the month.”

Jungkook nods in realization, squeezing your hips in understanding.

“Sorry, then. Should I get you something? I think I may have ice cream in the fridge.” He raises a brow, eyes drifting off to his kitchen.

You take his cheek, grabbing his jaw gently to make him look at you.

“Actually… I was thinking we don’t have to stop.”

His eyes may have lightened up, and Jungkook takes your wrist to press a kiss to the side of your hand.

“Yeah, I don’t really mind as long as you’re comfortable with it. We’ll put on a towel— okay, I can see on your face that’s not what you meant.”

“No…? I was thinking I’ll give you a blowjob instead.”

“Ah…” Jungkook nods again. “Are you sure? Don’t you have cramps?”

You chuckle. “Not yet. It’ll kick in on the second day,” You nudge him with your foot. “Come on up here.”

“You’re sure? We don’t need to do anything, baby,”

Baby. God. That nickname had always been so generic but there’s something about the way it rolls off Jungkook's tongue.

“I’m sure.”

Jungkook gives you one of his million dollar smiles and kisses his way back up until your lips meet again.

“Can I?” You nod when Jungkook tugs at your shirt. With your permission, he slides your top off, hissing at the sight of your bra-cladded chest.

He goes down to lick your nipple through the material, and you grab his hair when you feel him give you a slightly harsh nip. He licks it again, as if offering some sort of silent apology.

When he pulls the cups down, that’s when you push him to the side making him fall to the couch, and you take that time to kneel down this time in between his spread legs.

“Put this on your knees first.” Jungkook hands you the throw pillow on the couch. You take them and fluff them under your knees, and when you finish doing that, you attend to Jungkook’s very taunting grey sweatpants, tugging it off him. He helps you slide the pants off together with his boxers – and you have to fight the urge to take it slow when his hard cock springs free.

You’ve seen it before, have held it – but those moments felt so brief that they almost didn’t feel real. So when you see it up-close, so girthy and standing tall against his abdomen with the angry red tip slightly leaking, your breath gets caught up in your throat.

“Fuck,” Jungkook lets out a low groan when you begin teasing kisses to his thighs.

His gorgeous, thick thighs.

God… you wonder how it would tense up with your feet resting on them as you bounce up and down on his huge cock.

But you watch the way they clench when your lips get nearer to where he aches; watch as they tense under your touch when you place your hands there. And you watch Jungkook – most especially – as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, dark with want, his chest heaving under the tension.

“Is this what you want?” You ask, blinking at him meekly. His mouth opens to speak, but you don’t let him say another word as you let a glob of saliva fall down to the crown of his cock. You adjust your position in between his thighs, getting more comfortable but also pushing your ass out as you wrap your hand around the base.

Jungkook hisses when you twist your hand, gingerly spreading the wetness of your saliva around him. He lets his back fall to the back of the couch with a light thud, and you smirk when you see his abs clench.

“You’re killing me here, __. Don’t tease.”

You give him a non-committal hum. You meant to tease, but touching him like this feels like all your thoughts have suddenly gone to mush, and you’re left with only want – the want to pleasure him, to get him to let out those little huffs and grunts like when you two kissed…

You languidly move your hand around his shaft, humming at the way his tip oozes out more wetness which makes it easier for you to stroke him. You can’t help but watch in fascination as he seems to continue to grow around you. So hard and veiny… almost needy, the way he breathes heavily above you.

“Baby, fuck… you’re so pretty, god—” Jungkook’s words get cut off when you lean down to close your lips around the head, sucking at the softer tip before you take more of his length. “F-fuck…” Jungkook rasps, fingers gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail when you start bobbing your head up and down.

He feels big. Warm. But you smile to yourself when Jungkook shifts on the couch at the sensation. It felt good to have him squirming like that beneath your touch, to have him keening like this.

Gripping the base, you twist your fingers around the remaining length you couldn’t put in your mouth, jacking him off. From there, you start picking up your pace until Jungkook’s a panting mess. You’ve never pegged him as the type to be so… vocal. But it felt good, and at this point, you just want to see him let go of himself, even as he grips your hair tighter by every second that passes. It didn’t hurt enough to be uncomfortable, the force was just right – and it felt like he’s holding on to every muscle of his to not use too much force on your head by the way you can feel his other hand hovering over your hair.

“Ah, __… baby, shit. Yeah, you’re taking my cock so well– shit…”

You pump him faster, and every now and then, you would suck at the tip gingerly, kiss the veins around his rock hard dick, roam with your tongue, and test the waters and massage his balls. Soft groans escape past his lips, hips arching off the couch.

“Shit— baby, fuck,”

You hum, pleased with that. Your tongue teases the underside of his cock with every downstroke, just to hear him swear. You lick off the glistening juice off the head, lick around the ridge, and tighten your grip around the base, sinking your mouth up and down faster.

“God, your mouth is–aghh– Jesus fuck baby I’m gonna–”

You slurp noisily around his cock as you try to take him deeper – and at one point you actually feel him hitting the back of your throat but you were careful enough to adjust your angle and continue to suck him up and down. Jungkook’s gasps increase in speed and pitch, and you can feel him trying to get you off him when he tries to pull your face away from his lap.

“Baby, you gotta–”

But you don’t even let him finish that thought when you grip his thigh with your other hand, sucking his head that gets him keening again.

“Shit, shit, shit __ I’m going to– f-fuuuck,”

Jungkook shoots his hot cum in your mouth, and you didn’t really expect it to be so… much. The first wave felt heavy, but as his thighs spasm, his dick continues to squirt some more, and you open your mouth to catch them all.

“Fuck.”

You pull back with a wet pop, opening your eyes to meet Jungkook’s stare. Your fingers are still around his length when you lick around your lips, noting the way his eyes darken at the sight of you in front of him like this – kneeling in between his legs and licking his cum.

His chest heaves up and down, and he looks like he was about to say something when you suddenly slack your jaw to present your mouth to him – your mouth that’s now painted white with his cum. He watches you carefully as you close your eyes and swallow.

“Jesus.”

“Didn’t know you were religious like that.” you say as soon as everything’s gone in your mouth, giving him a cheeky smile. It’s a bit salty, not terrible, though you kind of expected that.

When you look at Jungkook, his mouth opens and closes like fish in water. You beat him to it when you rise, crawling up on his chest to press your lips to his.

You realize he might be one of those guys who didn't like it very much when their partners kissed them on the mouth right after giving them a blowjob – but Jungkook only slides his arm around your waist, deepening the kiss, dipping his tongue in your mouth until you’re settled on his lap again.

“You’re a fucking dream.” Jungkook says before kissing you again.

You giggle in his mouth, pushing him away slightly. His eyebrows knit in confusion, but he doesn't really look like he’s processing anything.

“You know I realized something about you,” you plant a sweet kiss on the side of his lips. “You don’t cuss at all, but you do it a lot during sex.”

Jungkook’s expression contorts into a frown, as if that was news to him. “Do I?”

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that–” then as if cutting off his own thoughts, he dives in for a kiss again. He pulls away for a second, caressing your cheek and thumbing your jaw before staring at you. “God, you’re gorgeous. Pretty girl.”

“Thanks.”

“I think my brain’s broken right now. I don’t have coherent thoughts.”

That makes you laugh. You pat his chest and notice the way Jungkook reluctantly lets you get off his lap, watching with hooded eyes as you rise to your feet.

“Well, I’ll have to get going. It’s—” you glance at the wall clock. “almost 12.”

Jungkook takes your wrist, and you have to be very brave to not look at his lap because he still hasn’t pulled up his pants yet and his dick is still very much on display. And you weren’t really kidding about having to go because you do have an early day tomorrow.

“Do you really have to go?”

You pout. “I have to.”

He sighs as if that disappointed him. “Okay… let me walk you out.”

Jungkook – finally – pulls his pants up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother putting on his shirt, though, and you don’t comment on it, figuring he’d stay inside anyway.

But when you see him slipping into his slides to follow you out, you press a hand lightly to his bare abdomen and laugh. “Hey, it’s literally, like five steps away. Go back inside.”

He pauses, brows furrowing in slight confusion before glancing down at himself. “Let me just grab my shirt, then—”

That makes you giggle. “Brain still broken?”

“I think so…” he trails off then looks at you. “Hey, come here,” he doesn’t wait for you to do so though, just reaches for you to pull you by the waist, pressing you close to him. He leans down and gives you a slow kiss. You could actually feel air being taken away from you when he pulls away, his smile as gentle as the hand that rubs your back. “Thank you, and good night. See you tomorrow?”

You nod, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Okay. Night. And see you tomorrow.”

With a small wave, you turn toward your apartment, not daring to glance back as you head to the door. But you can feel his gaze on you, watching as you slip inside.

It felt like Jungkook wanted you to stay longer…

But the ache in between your thighs was starting to get uncomfortable, and honestly, you really needed to change your pad.

Because the wetness there? Yeah, it definitely wasn’t just your period.

“So… is my laptop dying or…?”

“For the third time; no, your laptop is not dying,” Jungkook gives you a playful shake of his head. “It’s just laggy because you watch a lot of porn on it and you turned off your antivirus for some reason.”

You gasp. A dramatic one.

You give Jungkook a scandalous look before sitting down on the couch with him, peeking over what he’s doing on your device. Frankly, you don’t like it when people touch your things – especially your gadgets – because you had a lot of private stuff in them. But thirty minutes ago, your laptop randomly shut down while you had been doing some excel spreadsheets. In a weird coincidence, Jungkook called you the same time it happened. So you told him about it, and he offered to swing by and take a look. He was a tech guy, after all… and anyway, getting it fixed at some shop would have been expensive.

“I don’t watch porn!” you protest, glaring at him.

Jungkook just blinks at you, looking unconvinced. Then he shrugs. “Okay.”

“And what do you mean antivirus? I don’t even know I have one,” you mumble, placing the bowl of freshly cut watermelon on the coffee table. You fold your legs underneath you and inch closer to see what he’s actually doing. He’s been at it for a few minutes now, but all you see are lines of text and windows you can’t even pretend to understand.

“Yes, you do. And you did turn it off,” he says, gesturing at the screen. It’s full of stuff that might as well be in a foreign language. “These are malware. See this? Classic spyware script. You probably clicked on one of those fake play buttons with a hot singles ad or something.”

You give him a baleful look. He snorts.

“You’re not funny. And I watch porn on twitter like a normal person– okay sometimes maybe I do watch on shady websites but why do you even know that? And why are you interested in my porn.”

“You watch porn on twitter?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Hm. Interesting,” he nods and turns to the screen again. “Well, I wanna know what you like.”

You almost fall off the sofa. “Like you want me to give you a list of porn accounts?”

Jungkook actually laughs at that. “What? No. I mean, I'm interested in the porn you like.”

Oh.

“Uhm, I don’t particularly like anything,” you say, although maybe you immediately think of those videos where the woman is on the guy’s lap and he fingers her hard in front of the camera – but other than that, not really. You aren’t some freakazoid about porn. Most of the time, you were fine getting off with pure imagination. “I don’t like BDSM though, I think.”

Jungkook nods, but his eyes are not really on you and instead focused on your laptop as he does things. “Hmm.”

Your head snaps in his direction. “What do you mean, hmm?”

Jungkook meets your stare. “What?”

You study his face, narrowing your eyes. But he just looks at you in confusion, although there’s a little smile tugging at his lips. You drop it anyway, reaching for the watermelon cuts on the coffee table and start eating them as you watch whatever magic Jungkook is doing on your device.

“Anyway, I pirate a lot of movies so there’s that.” You thought that would be helpful to share. Those sites do have a lot of those pop-up ads, and you’d really rather endure that than have some big fuckass streaming corporation steal from you every month.

“I know, I’m just teasing about the porn websites,” Jungkook chuckles when you glare at him. “I could share my streaming accounts with you. I think I have everything.”

Your eyes light up almost instantly, but then you manage to catch yourself.

“Uh, no, you don’t really need to do that…”

He hums, goes back to your laptop. You don’t think about it too much when you pick up a watermelon and hover it over his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to eat it off your finger, and you don’t expect the way he sucks the juices off, tongue swirling around your digit while looking into your eyes. It feels like the whole moment took a minute, but in reality it was really only a few seconds, and Jungkook’s back to doing his thing on your laptop.

Oh.

Oh… okay. Well.

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you drop your hand to your side, absentmindedly eating your watermelon bites.

Ugh. When will your period end?! Given, it’s only really day two, and you probably have two or three more days to go but ugh…

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jungkook suddenly speaks, rising to his feet.

“All done. I installed a better antivirus, and I logged in my streaming accounts so you don’t get malware again. Also turned off some useless background programs because you had too many running– and I recovered your excel file,” he says, and you give him a grateful smile as you take your laptop and bring it to your chest like it’s your baby. Jungkook chuckles at the sight. “I have to go to the toilet, though. Want to order in and watch something when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure! Toilet’s over there,” you point to the far right direction of the apartment and watch Jungkook disappear into view to enter the bathroom.

You’re hacking away on your laptop when a phone starts buzzing on the coffee table.

Jungkook’s phone.

You hesitate. You don’t want to knock on the bathroom door just to hand it to him, but you don’t feel right ignoring it either.

The buzzing stops, and you feel relieved for all of one second when it suddenly starts again.

You lean slightly over – not really reaching, just peeking – to see who it is. What if it’s work? What if it’s important? You could tell him about it when he comes back…

The screen lights up with a name: Dad.

You gasp. Just a little.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you and you straighten up like you weren’t doing anything. Jungkook walks out, toweling his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, hey, someone's calling you.”

He gives you a curious look before he crosses the room. You try not to watch too closely as he picks up his phone, but you see it; the way his brows knit together, the way his stance and tone shift when he looks back at you.

“I need to take this real quick” He gestures to the phone. You nod.

He walks far enough that you can’t really make out the conversation, but when you take a peek to look at him, he looks so serious. You’ve only ever seen serious Jungkook when he was at work.

A few seconds later, he returns – apologetic eyes, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, I got called into work just now. I’m sorry we can’t have dinner tonight.”

Oh, so you were right! It was a work thing. Still… you wonder why his dad was the one calling.

“No, it’s fine! It must be super important,” you say quickly. “Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow instead?” You say, smiling up at him brightly.

Jungkook breaks into a smile. Then, out of nowhere, he steps closer and leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Kissing, that is. Just this morning, he drove you to work and you made out before he even started the engine. Then later. After parking, his hands wandered a little too much before you swatted him off, gently reminding him that your breasts were feeling tender from your period.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then just like that, Jungkook makes his way out of the apartment, and you don’t even know that you’ve been smiling like crazy until the black screen of your laptop catches your silly expression.

You miss Jungkook.

Okay— well. It’s just been two days, really. Well, more like today is day two. So it’s actually just been a full day. But there were no texts yesterday, and there were certainly no calls either. You haven’t seen him come out of his apartment, and you hate that you’re starting to worry.

You were debating whether to send him a message or not when suddenly, your doorbell rings. You weren’t expecting any visitors, especially not today when it was still so early in the morning and you have to go to work soon! But maybe it was your landlord, complaining about something again…

You groan at that, snatching your bag from the counter, planning to head straight to work after dealing with whoever it is. You slide your shoes on, ready for that condescending landlord tone only to freeze when you open the door.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, acting like you’ve just seen a ghost. And he seems to think so as well, cocking his head to the side at the unusual greeting. “You’re here.” you blurt out.

“Yeah, I went back to my place last night but only for awhile. We launched a system yesterday and something broke in production. QA didn’t catch it, so now we had to roll it—” as if he thought he was sparing you with some boring talk, he cuts himself off and smiles at you instead. “I had to work overtime. I’m sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“Eh, don’t worry. It’s not that serious. I know you're extra busy these days. Anyway, are you on the way to work?” Jungkook nods. “We should go together, then.”

“I was just going to say that.”

You step out of your apartment, and Jungkook waits for you to lock up before you both walk side by side down the stairs. You don’t know why but somehow, having seen him today and walking with him to his car where you’re gonna be riding in together to go to work was giving you a sense of contentment that you missed yesterday. Okay, so maybe this was a thing that was starting to grow on you. And maybe being with Jungkook genuinely makes you feel happy – giddy, for the most part. But it felt silly to have missed him when it was only really a day…

But you didn’t really want to dwell on that. It wasn’t Jungkook’s obligation to drive you to work everyday, and you certainly aren’t entitled to his undivided attention when you know exactly just how hectic his work schedule is. You couldn’t ask him to make time for you, even though you would like that.

“Oh!” Jungkook startles beside you when you suddenly halt. You look at him, wide-eyed. “Jungkook, it’s September first today!”

Jungkook checks his phone, brows furrowed. “Yes…?”

You eye him incredulously. “It’s your birthday!”

At first, the words didn’t seem to register, but Jungkook slowly nods. “Ah yeah, it’s my birthday today.”

“Why do you sound so unexcited?” You pout.

He chuckles, stepping closer to brush away a stray of hair you hadn’t even noticed had fallen across your face.

“Baby, it’s just another day.”

You feeze at the word. It’s the first time he called you that outside of you two… fooling around. It slips naturally from his mouth in that situation, but hearing it in this very non-sexual context was kind of throwing you off-balance – because this moment wasn’t supposed to feel intimate. Not like that, anyway.

Looking away, you say, “Still. You should do something to celebrate. Oh! I think… oh…” your eyes widen at the thought of throwing him a mini-party tonight. Obviously, Jungkook doesn't make a big deal of his birthdays, based on his response. But you thought about baking him a cake. And cookies! He liked the cookies you made last time! And you were practicing cakes these days so maybe it’d be nice to make him a small one. You turn to him with hopeful eyes. “Are you free tonight?”

Jungkook hesitates, but he smiles down at you. “Yeah, I’m free tonight. Why?”

You grin. “You’ll have to come to my place to find out! Oh, it’s gonna be fun. Ugh, I wish we can invite Jimin…”

You’re honestly proud of yourself for not breaking down when the piping tip you bought turns out to be the wrong one. The blue icing on your apron now looks like abstract art, and there’s enough sugar on your kitchen floor to summon an army of rants.

You just wanted the cake to be perfect. The cookies already were – but the cake, maybe not so much. And it was fine! It tasted fine! But the decorating sucked and at this point you just kind of wish Jungkook would look past the awkward lettering and appreciate the effort behind all these.

You didn’t have much time. He texted you after work that he couldn’t drive you home. He had to stay late, which actually worked out because it gave you the extra time you needed to prepare.

Although for the record, this wasn’t even a real surprise. You just made baked goods. And you cooked some food. And by cook you scratched off the chicken shop’s label and put it in the microwave to heat it up by the time you finished cleaning up your place since Jungkook was gonna be here by 11pm.

Which is why, at 10:40, you rush to the shower.

When you’re done, you step in front of the mirror to check yourself out. You’ve rummaged through your closet and found an old lingerie you don’t remember ever putting on. You remember it as one of those “feel-good” purchases awhile ago.

It’s nothing special, really. Just your usual black lace two-piece. The bra’s light and sheer, made of floral lace with thin straps that sat neatly on your shoulders. There are little pink bows too on them, which kind of made it cute. It didn’t offer much coverage, what with your nipples poking through the fabric – but that seemed to be the point. Meanwhile the panties are just as bold; crotchless, cut daringly open in the center, but softened by the same delicate lace. The set originally had garter straps and thigh-high stockings, but you thought that would be an overkill so you opted out of it.

You cover it up with a casual white dress, spritzing on the La Belle perfume Jungkook always seems to like a little too much.

There, everything’s done. Your period’s gone too, obviously, (day four, thank god) almost as if it knew not to ruin this night for you.

When you head out of your bedroom, you pick your phone up from the kitchen counter to dial Jungkook’s phone.

He usually answers on the first or second ring, but this time, he doesn’t. Wasn’t unusual or anything, given how busy he is… but you do frown when the ringing ends and there’s nothing that comes next but his voicemail.

Your frown deepens. You shift from one foot to the other, glancing at the clock. It’s past eleven now. Fifteen minutes past, to be exact.

Jungkook’s not usually late to things.

You sigh, trudging to one of the chairs in the dining area where you prepared the food and cake for him. You also bought wine and lit up a candle.

You stare at your phone for a solid minute before you pick it up again, deciding to send Jungkook a text.

You [11:16pm]: hey!! are you running late :>

You chose to add the emoticon in the end so the text doesn’t feel too mysterious or broody or serious. Really, you aren’t mad, maybe a little upset now – but maybe Jungkook’s just in the middle of something… what was that again? Someone breaking in production, whatever that meant…

But the clock turns 11:25, and there is still no sign of Jungkook on your phone – and even more so on your door.

You [11:25pm]: are you busy? sorry if im bothering you!

Then on second thought, you added:

You [11:26pm]: oh no pls dont tell me you forgot.. 🙁

Maybe he did forget. You hadn’t reminded him of it when you talked earlier. Did you have to? He said he was free tonight, so you kind of assumed…

You sigh again.

The chicken was turning cold and so was the other food on the table.

You pick up a cookie to nibble on it, thinking of why Jungkook would forget. Or why he wouldn’t text you back or return your call.

At eleven thirty, you stand up from your seat, suddenly feeling so… so silly. Silly about the food. Silly about the cake. Silly about your dress. And most especially, you feel silly about the lingerie that’s hidden underneath.

How silly. To plan all these in expectation of what… Jungkook’s company?

But it was his birthday. And you wanted to throw him a party, thought it would mean something to him, even though it’s not that much. But you did go through a lot of trouble to put this all out… but he also didn’t ask you either. So really, you have no right to feel upset over him not making good on his promise.

Wait, did he promise anything though? No, he didn’t. Not really. He just said he was free tonight. No promises. Maybe his schedule changed again and he needed to work overtime.

You start putting away the food in the fridge, not even having the energy to eat something for dinner. You go back to your room, stripping yourself off and changing into some comfortable pajamas before throwing yourself on the bed.

Still no texts.

It’s 11:42pm when it comes.

You hate how fast your body reaches for your phone to see who it was, lighting up when you see Jungkook (Unit 446) on the caller ID, even more so when you answer it.

“Hey, I got your texts. I’m so sorry, __—”

“It’s fine!” you nibble on your bottom lip as you try to contain your excitement. “Are you coming soon?”

“I– no, ba—” you flinch involuntarily when you hear him cut himself off. You were so sure he was going to call you baby, but he corrected himself quickly. “You remember the thing I mentioned this morning? The rollback didn’t go as planned. I’m working overtime tonight again so I can’t really go…”

“Oh…”

“Did you plan something? It’s just my birthday, __. Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the line, and for the first time it didn’t make you feel giddy or whatever.

You pick on the bed sheet before answering. “Uh, no. It’s not anything big, actually. I just made you some cookies. And ordered some food. But anyway I just ate dinner first because you took so long,” the lie rolls off your tongue easier than you expected. His laugh made you feel shitty. You know he didn’t mean anything by it – but it just made you feel so… so unimportant.

And suddenly, you want to downplay the whole thing. Because clearly, he thinks it’s no big deal.

“Hey, are you upset?” His tone shifts — gentler now.

“Ah, no. Sorry. I’m so tired and sleepy,” you fake a yawn and snuggle on the bed. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re here?”

Tomorrow is now your least favorite word. You’ve heard it too many times from him lately.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Then you hear him sigh.

“I’m sorry again, I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need to!” you tell him, making sure to say that as cheerfully as possible. Jungkook doesn’t need to. It’s not like you were dating or something for you to be upset over him bailing on you. “Really, it’s fine. Hey, I’m really, really sleepy now. Good night?”

“Okay, sorry. Sleep well, __. Tomorrow, okay?”

You hum, not sure if you believe that. Maybe tomorrow he’s going to have to do overtime again. Maybe tomorrow he won’t be here again.

Whatever.

It wasn’t a big deal.

You end the call, but before you can drop your phone onto the nightstand, you type out one last message.

You [11:45pm]: happy birthday!

You didn’t get much sleep last night. Not like your body clock has ever been particularly reliable,

This morning, you didn’t really think that much about it when you put the cake in a container and dropped it off at Jungkook’s door on your way down the stairs. You figured you could’ve eaten it, but you made it for him and anyway… it was his birthday and you still think he deserves a cake. He didn’t exactly seem like he was celebrating last night.

You took the bus to work. Nothing unusual, nothing exciting. Just another day dragging your limbs through the same monotonous rhythm. Your brain feels like it’s moving on autopilot by the time you tap your company ID at the building entrance and wait in line for the elevator.

Slipping inside, you wedge yourself into a spare corner, arms crossed as the lift fills and empties floor by floor. Eventually, it’s just you and one other woman left. She steps out when the elevator dings, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she barks something stressed into the line.

Instinctively, you lean forward and press the hold button, stepping onto the side when you take notice of someone going in, only to realize it was Jungkook.

It’s funny, really. Somehow, he only ever seems to appear when he’s the last person you’re ready to see.

“Oh– good morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, dipping your head in a polite little nod. The words sound awkward even to your own ears, stiff. You’ve never had to think about how to interact with him in the workplace.

Judging by the slight flicker on Jungkook’s face, he thinks it sounds weird too. But he recovers quickly, offering a faint smile as he steps in.

You return his smile, just as polite, and inch a little further to the side – so far that your back nearly presses to the elevator wall, creating an unnecessary gap between you.

The silence is noticeable. Tense, but it’s civil at least. You glance at the floor numbers blinking overhead, half-hoping this ride doesn’t last long.

Then Jungkook shifts in your periphery.

“Hey, about last night—”

The elevator dings.

It’s your floor.

You step out quickly, almost too quickly, heart tapping a little faster than it should.

You don’t look back.

You didn’t expect to get a text from Jungkook that night.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [9:37pm]: Do you wanna drive home together?

You made a mental note to give him a reply but it’s thirty minutes later that you remembered about it.

You [10:11pm]: hey sorry I just got home

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Okay Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Please come over tonight? I’m cooking

You [10:16pm]: i'm not sure if I can You [10:17pm]: i’ll try to. I brought home some work :/

He doesn’t give a reply after that.

And maybe that – weirdly – made you irritated. He’d texted first, and he’d asked you over. You gave a soft no, not even a hard one, and he didn’t even try again? Just left it like that?

You sigh and close the lid of your laptop. For once, you hadn’t lied about being busy with work. It was just a few reports you figured you could finish now to make tomorrow lighter and easier. It was nothing really urgent.

But you do feel sort of guilty about it.

Your door buzzes, and you have second thoughts whether or not you ordered dinner.

When you open the door, it felt like deja vu.

“Jungkook.” you say, blinking.

“Are you still working?” He’s in his work clothes, though the sleeves of his button-up are slightly rolled now. It looks like he just got home not long ago.

You glance at the laptop on the coffee table. “No, I just finished…”

“Okay, then I have a question,” Jungkook steps inside, and you unconsciously take a step back at that, looking at him curiously. He watches you carefully. “Are we okay?”

Caught off guard, you stammer when you say, “I– yeah! Sure, why wouldn’t we be?”

He doesn’t say anything for a beat, then, “You seemed a little off this morning. I thought maybe it was about last night.”

You try to wave it off, suddenly nervous about Jungkook being so straight-forward. Usually, men were so emotionally stunted as you are and never faced their problems head-on.

“No, I mean, it’s fine. You were probably so busy. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“But it did kind of matter.”

You exhale, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe I was a little upset. But it’s not like I’m mad mad.”

“I figured,” Jungkook says, voice soft. “And I get it if you don’t want to hang out tonight, but I still wanted to try. I know I’ve flaked twice now, but I meant what I said, about making it up to you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “With food?”

He smiles faintly. “With food. Amongst other things.”

That earns a chuckle from you. You’re not over it – unfortunately – but something about the way he’s standing there, almost cautious, makes it hard to keep your walls all the way up.

“So,” he asks gently. “Will you come?”

Taking a deep breath, you unintentionally look down at your socks.

“Only if there’s wine…” you say softly.

Jungkook’s smile spreads. “There’s wine.”

You sigh and start toeing your slippers off. “If it’s terrible, I’m leaving in five minutes.”

“I can live with that.”

Inside Jungkook’s place, the lights are unusually dim, the apartment warm with the scent of garlic and something buttery. A jazz record plays at the far corner, and you only noticed then that Jungkook owned a vinyl player – which you kind of didn’t expect – you sort of pegged him as the type to not have time to listen to music.

Meanwhile, he goes straight to the kitchen counter, where you watch him by the stove, plating food like a professional. You realized he had been cooking, and that’s why his tie was a little loose and his hair kind of a muss.

You don’t really know what to say, so you try to break the silence with, “Uhm, wow.”

Jungkook glances at you, mouth lifting at the corner. “I try sometimes.”

The obvious faux humility makes you laugh. You know exactly that he knows you’re impressed by the whole thing.

And you haven’t even eaten his food yet.

Walking in slowly to the dining area, your eyes skim over the table where there are real wine glasses, cloth napkins, and a lit candle.

“So what’s the occasion?” You ask, sitting on the chair, watching Jungkook as he heads towards your direction, bringing in the food he was preparing. You smile up at him. “Guilt?”

He chuckles under his breath, and you’re almost glad that the joke lands.

“Maybe. Also I figured you deserve a proper dinner, made by me. Since someone went out of their way to make me one.”

You hum. “Can’t believe you stood me up on your own birthday.”

He brings the plates over and sits across from you. “I cooked,” he says. “Try it before you decide if I’m forgiven.”

You eye the food, a little surprise at how he mustered up a risotto with seared scallops, and of course perfectly plated. Like he’s just so good at everything he does… wait, did Jungkook go to culinary school? You’re starting to think that.

“You know how to make risotto?”

“I know how to do a lot of things,” he meets her gaze.

Yeah, you know that was a hundred percent true…

You take a bite, careful not to let any expression slip while Jungkook watches closely, not really digging in on his own plate.

And as expected, the risotto’s annoyingly good. You didn’t doubt it from Jungkook, though. Being good at cooking was just one of the many qualities that made him so… so whatever.

“Okay, fine. I’m mildly impressed,” you comment, sipping on the wine to hide the small smile tugging at your mouth. Your very expression contradicts your words, and you know Jungkook can see through you.

He leans back in his chair, obviously satisfied. “Mildly?”

“You still missed your birthday dinner. That knocks off some points.”

He gives you a small smile. “I really didn’t expect it to be a birthday dinner, baby.”

You shrug off the nickname by having more bites of the risotto. You wonder if Jungkook was being deliberate when he said that, or if it was just going to be a thing between you now.

“You didn’t ask… and well, I was going to surprise you.” Now you pout at the memories of last night again. “There was chicken.”

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. “You cooked?”

You eye him. “Yeah, I scratched the tapes off the takeout boxes and put it in the microwave.” Jungkook laughs, the crinkles on the sides of his eyes showing. It makes you smile to see him like that. “Well,” you say eventually, “you’ve redeemed yourself a little.”

Jungkook leans in again, riding along, “Only a little?”

“We’ll see if there’s dessert.”

Jungkook smirks, and you both continue to eat.

After awhile, he glances at you. “You’re not mad,” he says, as if treading softly. “But… you were disappointed, right?”

You shake your head. “No. I just—” You see Jungkook raising a brow. “I just thought it’d be nice. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, it was your birthday! Now I feel bad ‘cause it’s like I’m making this all about me.” you chuckle at the realization.

You look at Jungkook when you realize he’s not really laughing with you.

You flinch a little when his hand reaches out to yours. His thumb caresses your knuckles as he tells you softly, “Hey, I know it would’ve been nice. I’m really sorry I missed it.”

“It’s fine…” it’s a good thing Jungkook lets go immediately.

But you find yourself wanting to share with him that you baked him a cake too. About the lingerie… but that felt stupid now. Wait, did he even get the cake you left at his porch this morning?

As if he read your mind, Jungkook suddenly rises up from his chair.

“Wait a second,” he walks past you, disappearing into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and comes back into view with a single slice of cake.

Your cake. The one you made for him.

You stare. “Is that—?”

“You left it outside my door this morning,” he says, placing it on the table. You blink up at him, mouth slightly open. “I thought I’d save it, you know? In case you ever stopped pretending you didn’t care.”

It felt a little pointed, but with the smile on his face you’re not really sure.

“You really don’t play fair.”

“Not trying to.” he says simply with a small smile before sitting again.

“So. Is this your apology routine? Fancy dinner, smooth jazz, and then hoping I forget you bailed?”

He smiles into his own glass of wine. “If I wanted you to forget, I wouldn’t have brought out the cake.”

You raise a brow. “You brought that out to make a point.”

“I did.”

“You’re kind of smug about it.”

“I’m good at making points,” he says, “Especially when someone keeps insisting nothing’s wrong.”

You frown, somehow not really liking the confirmation that he does think you’re making a big deal about this.

“I said I was fine.”

“You keep saying that,” his voice is quieter now, but a little edged. “But you’ve been smiling like it’s your job since you got here. And I know it’s not real.”

You recoil at that, not expecting to be called out. The sudden shift of the atmosphere is palpable as you lean back on the couch.

“What do you want me to say?” you let out a humorless chuckle. “That I was upset? You hurt my feelings?”

Jungkook’s expression changes, but his voice doesn’t falter. “I wanna know how you feel.”

You look away. “Do you want me to admit that maybe I cared more than I should?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you mean it.”

He leans forward, "I mean,” he starts, “that it wasn’t nothing. You made me dinner. You planned something for me. That’s not small. And I want you to know that I want to apologize when I make these mistakes.”

You don’t really think it through when you say, “It’s not like we’re together, Jungkook.”

That makes him pause. You can’t find it in you to take it back, because… it was true, right? The whole thing felt like… like you were a couple in a fight. And you aren’t.

“Still not an excuse.” he says after awhile.

You let out a breath, almost a laugh, frustrated. You wish Jungkook hadn’t brought it up, and you wish you aren’t reacting the way you are right now.

“You know, you didn’t seem bothered about it when we talked on the phone.”

“Because I thought you were okay.”

“Well, surprise,” you flash him a tight smile. “Turns out I’m not as chill as I thought.”

His voice lowers. “I never thought you were chill.” You can’t help but glance at him sharply. “I thought you were trying really hard to seem like you didn’t care, because maybe you thought I might not care back.”

That lands harder than it should, and you feel your throat tighten.

“I should go,” you stand up, not wanting to have any more of this conversation. You wish Jungkook would just drop it. You told him, you were upset – but he’s making a big deal about it.

Jungkook stands up too, stepping closer to you. His height looms over you, but his presence feels calm and collected.

“You could,” he says in that deep voice. “But you won’t.”

You take in a sharp breath when he presses until you can feel the heat of his body. You’re confused about the sudden turn of events, but there’s something about Jungkook right now, his voice dropping low, his gaze… almost as if…

“Oh?” you decide to challenge him, not wanting to waver.

“You stayed. And now you’re standing this close,” he says, gaze dropping to your mouth. “Looking like you want me to make you forget why you were upset in the first place.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling heated in that other way.

“A-and if I do?”

One hand brushes past your hip, and you stand there grounded, unconsciously holding your breath.

“Then you let me.”

You kiss him first – not really sure why and how it happened – but you do, on instinct. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. It’s fast, and there’s frustration from you bubbling under, heat blooming behind your ribs like a fuse finally lit.

Jungkook kisses you back harder though, catching you on time – always catching you on time – walking you backwards into the living room where he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you.

His voice is rough against your skin when he breaks away to whisper, “Are you still upset?”

Your hands grip his shirt. “I would be if you don’t continue kissing me.”

That makes him smile, murmuring, “You’re a brat.”

“Do you like it?”

He inhales a sharp breath against your jaw, nipping. “I really do.”

In an instant, his hands were around your waist, your back pressed against the back of the sofa. Your breath hitches when his mouth drops to your ear, making your knees weaken slightly.

“Do you– do you kiss everyone you disappoint like this?” you mutter, hands sliding under his shirt where you feel his abs clench.

“No,” he says, lips peppering kisses down your neck, voice low. It sends shivers down your spine and makes your thighs clench together. “Just the ones who microwave chicken for me.”

It earns a chuckle from you – sharp, breathless – and tug the collar of his shirt, starting to undo his buttons until sculpted chest is revealed. You’re about to pull the material off him when Jungkook catches your wrist.

“Still upset?” he asks.

You click your tongue. “Maybe.”

He grins. “Good.”

He kisses you again. Slow this time, like he knows you’d let him now. And you do. Your fingers dig into his shoulder as he deepens it, tongue brushing yours in a way that makes your head fog over. He tastes like wine and smugness… but you find you like it. Jungkook moves in such a way that screams he knows exactly what he’s doing.

His shirt is off in a second, leaving him in his slacks and belt, mouth moving lower over your throat, your collarbone, until they reach your cleavage made easily accessible with the neckline of your camisole. You arch into the touch without much thinking, and when Jungkook whispers against the peak of your nipple if he could take your shirt off, you nod.

“Sorry, this isn’t my proudest bra ever,” you tell him, fingers slipping through his hair.

Jungkook chuckles. “I’m gonna take it off, anyway.”

He lifts you up effortlessly, squeezing your ass as you yelp but helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Before you can say anything, he shuts up with a searing hot kiss, and you let him carry you to the bedroom with ginger steps, like he’d done it a hundred times before in his head. God, you hope he did just like you do.

You don’t know how exactly it happened but your bra is off the moment he lowers you down on the bed, tugging the cups off your chest and letting his hand take reign on one boob while he licks the other one with his hot tongue, swirling it around your nipple that makes you gasp and shift on the bed.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

Crawling over you, you meet his heavy gaze as he asks, “Are you sure about this?”

If the heat in between your thighs is any more indication of how sure you are, he can check. But you tug him down by the waistband of his slacks to tell him, “I’ve been sure.”

“Just checking, because once we start…” he murmurs, gaze dropping on your lips. As if he can’t help it, he closes his mouth around yours. Then his hand slides down, feathery touch causing goosebumps all over your skin. It stops on your inner thigh where you take a sharp breath because he was so close to where you wanted him to be.

“I want you now,” you say, a bit irritated.

He chuckles, dark. Low. He retracts his hand and smirks when you give him a glare.

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. Don’t rush me.”

To prove his point, he kisses you again – hot and passionate, but also aguishly slow like he’s savoring every brush of your tongue and he has all the time in the world for it.

You’re flushed beneath him, breathless as his hands wander all over your body. He nips the skin of your neck, obviously teasing, leaving goosebumps on his trail. When his hand cups the heat in between your legs, your hips unconsciously buck, your grip on his shoulders tightening at the contact.

“I should’ve come to dinner,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Y-yeah,” you manage, “you should’ve.”

“I can’t believe I missed this yesterday.”

You gasp when his thumb presses on your mound, feeling like you’ve been electrocuted by the touch. Jungkook seems to take note of your oversensitivity, as he watches you with your mouth hanging slightly open.

“Don’t worry, baby. I plan to make it up to you real good,” he leans back for a second to tug the waistband of your pants, and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself up a little to help him slide it off your legs together with your panties. You bite your bottom lip as you observe him watching the way the material clings to your pussy at the slickness. A smirk tugs at his lips. “I guess I’ve made you wait too long, didn’t I?”

Your reply dissolves into a sharp inhale as he puts two of his fingers in his mouth and wedges them in between your folds, leaning down to plant a kiss on your parted mouth. His fingers move inside you, curling in slow rhythm, his thumb teasing just enough to keep your hips lifting off the bed.

“You’re so soaked, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he slowly slides them out, smirking when you whimper at the loss of contact. He inserts them again, this time taking on a steady pace. His fingers make you feel so full, just like they did back at the motel – and you wouldn’t dare lie to yourself and say you haven’t been looking forward to this again. By the way you can’t keep the soft moans escaping past your lips, Jungkook must’ve known too.

Slick sounds bounce off the wall, and you try to keep it to a minimum by minimizing your moans and pressing the back of your hand to your mouth but Jungkook catches your wrist quickly, as if he knew what you were about to do.

“No, baby, let me hear you,” he says, pinning your hand up against the headboard. “I want to know how much you want this, how much you like my fingers fitting right in your pussy,” he looks down, then unexpectedly, he brings his soaked digits up to your face. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment when you see how wet they are with your juices, whimpering when he inserts them in his mouth with no second thoughts, licking them obscenely. You whimper when he shuts his eyes close, looking intoxicated.

“Shit,” he hisses, “Tastes just as good as I remember it.”

“J-jungkook,” you whine, wanting him to do something already.

“I know,” he smirks, a little smug. “Should I go faster? Is that what you like?”

“Please…” you cry out, holding on to his wrist.

He chuckles darkly and just as when you were about to say something else again, he curls the same fingers in you, but this time he plunges them in and out at a faster pace. At that, you don’t hold back the moans you’ve been keeping trapped in your throat.

Legs tensing, Jungkook continues to fuck you with his fingers, moving like an expert; determined to make you fall apart – and you’re nothing but soft cries, heated, fingers tightening around his wrist as your orgasm creeps up your toes to your spine.

“F-fuck…” you sigh when Jungkook dives in your chest again, nipping and sucking at the flesh you were sure he was going to leave marks. “Feels so good, Koo…”

He hums against your skin, curling his fingers and digging in deep that your thighs shake uncontrollably. But Jungkook’s hold on your hip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from thrashing underneath him at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yeah? You’re making such a mess on my hand, baby,” he husks out.

“S-sorry.”

He chuckles. “You’re beautiful,” He breaks away from your tits to stare at you. Moving away some of the hair that has gotten on your face, he says, “Are you close?”

“Yes, god, yes. Please, I’m so close…”

You can feel yourself about to reach your climax, so you move your hand to seek relief to your clit. But Jungkook catches you off-guard when he moves further down your body. You let out a lewd moan when he licks along your slit, sucking in your folds – your juices making a wet, spongy sound as he slurps. When he closes his mouth around your clit, you cry out and grab his hair quite harshly.

But Jungkook only hums against your pussy, the vibration only making you drip more. He ravishes your nub with his tongue, quick and steady, and so are his fingers in and out of your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moan, body convulsing at your impending orgasm, shutting your eyes close and focusing on the way his tongue tugs at your clit. “Kook, I’m coming, fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

He pulls off with a smack only to tell you “in my mouth” before going back to business again. You listen to his small grunts, his hums, and until then, you feel your body spasming when the coil at your stomach breaks.

Jungkook puts his hand on your lower stomach, pressing you down as you wriggle underneath him, thighs shaking at your orgasm. He licks until you’re pulling his head out of your mound. He takes his fingers out of your spongy walls, spreading your wetness instead around your folds, as if calming you down from your high.

“Good, baby, good…” he murmurs, gripping your thighs to steady you. Then he leans down and presses kisses over them.

You let your back relax on the mattress, shutting your eyes close and catching your breath.

You hear a drawer pull open, and when you finally open your eyes, you see Jungkook with a condom pinched in between his fingers.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Jungkook skates his fingers through his hair, and you suddenly got the urge to jump him right then and there when you saw the sheer wetness on his jaw, his sculpted chest and the abdominal muscles that sit perfectly on his stomach, his tattoo sleeve – he looked like an absolute dream then, but you knew you were in for a ride when your eyes cast a look at the erection inside his slacks. Jungkook makes quick work of unbuckling his leather belt, and the way the metal clink with each other scratches a part of your brain that screams want, want, want and maybe Jungkook caught on, because he follows your gaze to the belt, clicking his tongue when he throws the leather away somewhere on the floor.

“Next time, sweet girl,” he says, sounding like he meant it. You can feel your cheeks heating under his gaze and the implication of his words, chest pounding as he unbuttons and unzips his pants together with his boxers.

“I…” You watch in quiet fascination when his rock hard dick slaps against his lower abdomen, biting your lip at the sight. It was just as long and girthy as you remember it.

He hums. “You want to play next time, we’ll do that. But eyes up here first,” Jungkook instructs, and you do look at him when he says so, feeling your legs clamping together at his slightly commanding tone. He tugs your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, and so you lift off the mattress slightly and rest your elbows against the soft sheets. Jungkook smiles at you as he kneels between your spread legs, “You look beautiful like this, baby. Do you know how much I’ve been wanting to do this?” he asks as he rips open the condom, pinching the tip and putting it over his cock in quick succession.

“I’ve been waiting for you…” you say, not really sure what you mean, touching his chest because you can. He’s so warm and so big, and your pussy aches at the thought of him finally entering you.

It felt greedy, to want to cum again when you just did not even a full minute ago.

“I know,” he strokes his cock for good measure, and you let out a soft gasp when he hikes your leg over his hip, nudging your other leg to the side. He inserts a finger in your pussy, hissing at your wetness. “Fuck, you are soaked, baby…”

“Put it in,” You whine, chest heaving up and down as you watch Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. His hand wraps around his dick, strokes it for a moment before gripping near the tip and bringing it closer to your aching heat.

You moan when the first inch of his cock goes in, mouth gaping at the intrusion. Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he adjusts your leg higher on his hip, pushing deeper.

“Look at me,” he instructs, “You can take it, right, baby? You’re so wet, so pretty…”

“I– yes, yes– shit,” you let out a shaky breath, “you’re s-so big, fuck,”

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, voice low and dripping with honey. He gives a gentle, almost subtle thrust that almost knocks you out of the bed.

“Yes, yes, fuck… give it to me, Kook, I want you so bad…”

“Yeah? I’m gonna move in a sec, angel, play with your tits for me.”

You nod your head and do as told, letting your hands wander all over your body before fondling your breasts, moaning instantly at the pleasure.

“Tell me if it hurts,” is what he says before he slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you up, a shudder escaping past his lips when he slowly pushes more past your tight walls. You choke out a moan, a broken sob coming out of it when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

“Ah…”

He hisses, fingers digging at your waist as he withdraws from your heat and only the tip of his cock is in you, the scene with it sitting on your soaked pussy enough to send him into an overdrive.

“You’re so fucking tight holy fuck,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips back into you and finally picking up a pace that makes you whimper and cry out pathetic little moans, mind becoming fuzzy at the thrusts of his cock in your entrance.

Your walls clench at the glide of his cock against you, feeling him falter at the little stunt. But you can’t help it. Your body is on fire as Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, pulling you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his dick are tickling your skin. Your elbow shake as it loses balance, but Jungkook is quick to catch you just on time, leaning down to hover over your body, but it only makes the angle of his fuck deeper, and maybe he meant to do that too.

Your hands are quick to wrap around his shoulders as you feel the tip of his cock prodding against your cervix like he’s going all out, your hips jumping as he rams back inside.

He repeats the movement like a graceful dancer, thrusts deep and purposeful, pulling out wailing sounds from you you begin to worry if the neighbors could hear. He tucks his head against your neck and presses a kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips into you, pistoning into your squelching heat. His body is so close, so warm, sweaty skin gliding against yours.

“Fuck, fucking hell, baby – fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook growls, finding your mouth and kissing you again. His hips snaps back into you once again, and you both swallow each other’s moans at the contact, letting your bodies rock to the sound of your fucking. His hand is on your chest immediately, squeezing everywhere until it settles on pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“Jungkook– ah, baby— fuckkkkk,” You shudder, feeling your pussy quiver at every snap and every withdrawal, and when he brings his hand to your clit and rubs it in quick circles, you screw your eyes shut, feeling that familiar wave again for the second time that night.

“Jungkook–”

“You’re gonna be a good girl and come for me, sweet girl?” Jungkook rasps out, sweaty forehead coming into view as he jackhammers into your pussy with ease, welcomed by your never-ending slick. You never thought you’d see Jungkook like that, fucking like a crazed caveman, looking like he can’t get enough but also straining himself a bit to not hurt you – because of course he wouldn’t.

“Fuck me harder, Kook, I need it– need you to… need you to—”

“Yeah?” he rocks harder, faster just like you said, and you can honestly start to feel the slight pain on your chest as they bounce at the speed, your hand flying to grab at your chest.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, unconsciously reaching for him and feeling like you’re on edge. Jungkook takes your hand and encloses it around his, thrusting into you once again before whispering against your skin to let go.

As if that was a magic phrase, you feel something inside you snap.

“Good girl, I knew you’d come for me, you always do,” Jungkook slurs. You could feel your cum dribbling out of your pussy, creaming his cock, but Jungkook continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your spasming hole, grunting against your skin, mouth leaving random, open-mouthed kisses.

He drills on, and his cock still feels so achingly hard, seemingly not anywhere near completion yet. You’re nearly mush beneath him from your current release, but you push through it as you press your hands to his chest, forceful enough to send him tumbling a little. He’s caught off-guard by that, and you take that to your advantage as you maneuver yourself to push him completely on his back, his cock sliding out of you.

He bounces off the mattress a little, looking at you curiously as you straddle his waist. Your sensitive pussy shudders at the cold of the AC in his room, and you feel like your bones have been liquefied, but you don’t let that deter you from taking ahold of his still, indeed, hard cock and sitting on it.

Jungkook inhales a sharp breath as he watches you bounce on his cock, the head disappearing and appearing in your entrance, like a show he would want to replay over and over again. And you’re determined, stretching your body and leaning back to rest your palms on his thighs for support as you take his dick, switching to a back and forth motion.

“Oh, Jungkook, god – oh my god,” and although it was supposed to be for him – for him to cum – you can honestly feel yourself about to snap again, especially when Jungkook reaches forward to rub your tit, caressing your tattoo underneath with that hungry look in his eyes, and settling on your hips like he’s enjoying the little show you’re putting up for him.

“That’s it baby, bounce on my cock – you’re doing so we…ll,” he encourages, but there’s a slight break to his tone at the end. “Shit, keep going – fuck. I’m so fucking close– you look so good,”

You swallow the saliva trapped in your throat to pick up your pace, feeling lightheaded at the overwhelming feeling of his cock prodding against your cervix everytime you go forth. His dick brushes past your clit everytime you move, and you throw your head back when you feel him starting to thrust upward.

“Are you close again, baby?” Jungkook asks, gripping your hips tight as he meets your ministration. You bite your lip at the question, only whimpering when Jungkook bucks his hips harshly. “Cum for me a third time, pretty girl. Cum with me.”

“Jungkook, I can’t, I’m so sensitive. I–”

“You can, angel. And you will.”

You mewl when Jungkook reaches for your pussy with his other hand, quickly finding your clit to rub against it again, and that pushes you to the edge quickly – orgasm snapping on an instant just like that.

Jungkook’s hips stutter, breath caught in between a curse and your name, like the sound of you undid him completely. It was a sound that you heard three days ago when he came in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, hips faltering at his orgasm. “Shit…”

You drop your body unceremoniously onto him, the exhaustion hitting you all at once.

Wrapping his hands around your body very gently, you feel Jungkook kissing the side of your head, making you shut your eyes close.

“Jesus.” you blurt out, whole body spent.

“Didn’t know you were religious like that…” He says with a chuckle, caressing your hair mindlessly.

You snap your head quickly to look at him at the familiar words, narrowing your eyes. Jungkook only presses a kiss to your shoulder as if that was some sort of apology, and you let it go with a playful shake of your head.

“Do you still feel bad about missing dinner?” You ask with a smile on your face.

He let out a low laugh, and the vibration through his chest feels warm against your skin.

“I’m working on making it up to you.”

“Does it really involve making me cum three times in a single night?” you arch your brow. “I think you’re overcompensating.”

Jungkoo gives you a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

And before you can say anything, he flips you over and kisses you again, which makes you giggle into his mouth.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #p; writing #fic: nb #awrkive

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angel-writes-skz-here · 24 hours ago

Text

Do You Trust Me?

Bang Chan x F! Reader Synopsis: Your best friend tries to make your day better Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v, praise, light bondage(?) A/N: I need to get finished with orders for Larie's Libations! So be expecting that! I'm also cooking up an event so y'all stay tunned for that! As usual, comment to be added to my tag list Xoxo💋

Your day had been rough. It started off when you bumped into someone at the coffee the shop and both of you spilled your daily caffeine, staining your white blouse and making you late to work.

Then you find out your boss transferred you to a different floor and expected you to move your desk that morning to make room for the replacement. After that, the printer screwed up right as you were printing an important document. Come lunch time you realized you forgot your lunch at home, causing you to eat only a bag of chips.

You shot Chris a message on your lunch break grumbling about how it was a shit day and you couldn’t wait to just chill at home.

After lunch, you go back to your desk only to find that the computer, that had said important documents and information on it, had shut down, not saving anything.

Needless to say, it was a shit day.

So when you walk into the shared apartment with Chris, you’re surprised to see dinner cooked and candles lighting the table.

“What the heck is this?”

“You said you had a bad day, I wanted to try to help.” He shrugs sheepishly. He comes over, slyly taking off your jacket and your purse and putting them away.

“Seriously, how has no woman snatched you up yet?” You ask as you hug him tightly. You and Chris have been friends for the last few years, living together for a year now. It had been working well, until you started to fall for him. It wasn’t hard; Chris is the epitome of a good boyfriend. Attentive, kind, genuinely listens when you talk about your day. He makes you laugh, helps distract you when you need it, and is always there to help when you ask. He’s someone you feel safe with, that you trust and know you can count on.

You both sit down to eat dinner, the silence a little awkward. You can see the wheels in his head turning as he chews a bite of his food.

“What cha thinkin about, roo?” you wink at him.

“Huh, oh,” his face turns a light shade of pink, “Nothin, I um,” he sighs.

“Y/n,” he asks and you look up over at him from the rim of your glass.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” he asks again.

“With my life,” you answer honestly. He takes a deep breath and stands up, holding out his hand to you. You look from his face to his hand back to his face before hesitantly taking his hand and standing up. He pulls you close to him, the height difference not much, just a few inches or so, and he softly presses his lips to yours. You stand there for a moment, eyes wide, lips frozen.

“You said you trust me,” he says, voice an octave deeper.

“Let me help you relax,” he mumbles against your lips, hands resting on your hips. Your eyes flutter closed, moving your lips against his as your hands rest on either side of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, passion exchanged in every movement, tongues daring to dance together in something that’s way over the line of friendship.

“Chris,” you whimper. You feel him smile against your lips. He pulls you to your bedroom.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” he says as he gently pushes you down on the bed. His eyes are dark; lustful and hungry.

“How many nights I heard you moan because of your own hands.” He says as he hovers over you.

“How many nights my cock would throb and I’d have to get off, imagining it was you on top of me.” He groans in your ear, making you shiver. He slips off his shirt before leaning back down, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Without even thinking you dip your head down, capturing his thumb in your mouth, lightly sucking on it, tongue swirling around the tip of it. His eyes widen, watching your mouth suck and his pants start to tent. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, before raising your shirt over your head.

“Fuck,” he breathes as his eyes stare at your chest, “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” he groans as he places kisses down your neck. Your fingers thread into his hair, his teeth sinking into the flesh.

“God I wanna taste you so bad,” he almost whimpers in your ear. Your face flushes.

“Wanna feel you around my tongue,” he says as you whine, hips involuntarily shifting toward him. He notices and chuckles.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, Daddy’s got you.” He says before trailing more kisses down to your chest. He kisses the top of each breast, tongue darting out over your skin. You sigh in satisfaction, watching him, cradling his head as he kisses just between them.

His hands reach behind you, slipping the bra off. He moans, mouth automatically going around your left nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, eyes closing to concentrate and Chan bites down.

“Ah,” you jump.

“Let me hear you,” he smirks and goes back to flicking his tongue and you oblige, letting out the noise. His other hand comes up to pinch and lightly twists, causing your mouth to fall open, before he switches and gives the right one the same kind of attention.

“Chris,” you whimper feeling your panties grow damp. You figure he must know what you want because he kisses down your stomach.

“You know,” he says before kissing your stomach.

“I’ve dreamt,” he kisses your flesh again, “About having my head between your legs,” he says before nipping at the skin of your hip. Your walls clench around nothing at his words.

“Dreamt of how you taste. Dreamt of hearing you moan my name like it’s the only thing you know,” he says as he pulls down your pants.

“And tonight,” he says before planting a kiss to your clothed core, “I’m not stopping,” another kiss, “Until I hear it. M’gonna make you feel so good baby,” he says and kisses the inside of your thigh. He flattens his tongue and drags it up the damp cloth covering you.

He feels you squirm, watching as your hips roll involuntarily.

“Patience baby, we got all night.”

“Chris I have work tomorrow,” you whine.

“If you’re able to walk tomorrow, I didn’t do my job.” He smirks before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling it down.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says before diving in. His tongue is slow at first, teasing you with slight pressure to your clit, causing you to gasp and sit up, better watching him between your thighs. He chuckles against you, adding just a bit more pressure.

“Better enjoy this, I won’t be gentle all night,” he groans before lapping at your entrance, tasting you. He moans something sinful, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Knew you tasted good,” he says against you as he hooks his arms around your thighs, fully determined to make you see stars. His tongue applies forceful pressure, making you gasp as he curls it up and flicks it back and forth, the sensation causing your eyes to close, and body to go slack against the headboard. Chan flits his eyes up to you, smiling to himself when he sees the look of pleasure and relaxation on your face.

He teases your entrance with his finger, slowly inserting it and curling it upwards, hitting your sweet spot each time.

“Chris,” you moan out, hips once again moving against him as he continues his assault on your clit.

You whimper as he quickly adds another.

“Fuck,” you say as he moves them quickly, hitting the spot perfectly; tongue like lightening as your body tenses.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, hand in his hair pushing his face into you.

“Fall apart baby,” he mumbles against you. You gasp, body shaking as you feel the heat in your stomach dissipate and your body shake against him.

Your chest rises and falls as Chris works you through your orgasm, slowly pumping his fingers as your walls attempt to suck them in.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praises kissing his way back up to you. His hand comes around your throat, causing your heart to tick right back up before his lips slam onto yours, rough and needy.

You whimper against him, desperate to touch and feel more of him.

“Chris please,” you whimper against him. He chuckles before helping you flip onto your stomach.

“I didn’t even have tell you to beg,” he whispers in your ear, smirk evident in his voice.

“That needy, huh? My needy little slut?” you groan as your cheeks tint a shade of pink. You hear his belt come undone and your body rushes with excitement.

“Hands,” he says as he positions himself on your back. You put your hands behind your back and feel his belt come around them, securing your wrists together.

“I told you I wouldn’t go easy all night.” He mumbles in your ear. He drops his pants, positions your hips up and teases your folds by rubbing his head up and down them.

“Christopher,” you warn as you desperately try to move your hips back. He audibly laughs at you.

“You’re in no position to negotiate, love.” He says and you can only imagine the dimpled smile on his face on right now as your cheek is pressed into the mattress.

You groan again and roll your eyes as he pushes in hard and fast making you choke out a moan. Chan smirks, drawing himself out slowly, only to slam into you again, hitting that beautiful spot inside you.

“God,” you choke out, eyes screwing shut. Chan sets a brutal pace, causing your forehead to dig into the mattress, breathing becoming labored quickly. Chris can feel your walls squeezing him, signaling your close, he slams into you even faster, helping your orgasm along by rubbing your clit. Your mouth opens in a silent cry, walls sucking his cock in.

Chris moans at the pressure as you come undone, but he isn’t finished.

“Fuck,” he groans as his hand wraps around your throat, pulling you up against him, fucking into you, body limp in his arms, legs slightly shaking.

“You can give me one more, yeah? I know you’ve got it in you. You make yourself cum at least twice in a night, so let’s see if we can break that record. Think you can do that for me?” he grunts as he kisses up your shoulder to your neck; his breathing now becoming more labored.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper as you feel him slow down just a little, teasing you, before pushing you down on the bed, his back hovering directly over yours with long deep thrusts.

“You take me so fucking well,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Make me feel so damn good,” he grunts.

“And to think, you let other guys do what I could’ve been doing this whole time,” he grits his teeth, his pace picking up little by little until its punishing.

“I’m better than them, though. I can make your body tick by simply looking at you the right way,” he taunts with a cocky attitude.

“Isn’t that right, baby?” He asks and his palm lands on your ass cheek. You whimper as he lands another.

“Yes,” you call out; the sting a stark contrast to the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper out, eyes screwed tight. You feel Chan slow down once again, and the restraints come off your wrists. Your arms cheer with relief as you’re able to bring them down and you flip onto your back, Chan repositioning himself, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful underneath me,” he murmurs as he slides in, causing both of you to moan together in harmony.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers as his pace is slow and deep once more.

“Wanted to feel you around me,” he sighs as your walls flutter.

“Wanted to call you mine so many times and tell those losers you’d bring over to fuck off,” he says before dipping his head down and connecting your lips, hips rocking faster, his hand going to play with your puffy clit. Your breath hitches, and your noses touch as you feel your body begin to stiffen quickly.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers in your ear as his cock throbs.

“I’ve got you, baby. Cum for me,” he drawls. Your arms go around his neck, back arching into him as your nails go down his muscular back, drawing red lines down it as your walls clamp around his cock.

Chan moans, hips stilling as he cums with you. The two of you stay frozen like that for a moment, the initial shock of what just happened weighting over you. The two of you look into each other’s eyes. For what feels like hours, you stare at each other, unsure of what to say or what’s ok to feel.

Chan is the first to move. He moves some hair away from your face as you settle against the mattress, the moment surreal.

“You ok?” he asks cautiously. The tone of his voice calms your fears. A lazy smile spreads across your face before you bring his face down to yours.

“Better than ok.” You smile just before kissing his lips. Chan smiles into the kiss and pulls himself out of you, both of you wincing slightly. He looks at you, dripping with his seed.

“That’s so hot,” he whispers to himself as he slowly forces himself away to grab a towel. He comes back a little bit later, longer than normal, helping you clean up, and helps you stand, legs wobbly and body sore.

“Lets get you cleaned up, yeah?” you nod lazily, your body spent.

You walk into the bathroom, candles are lit and a small tray filled with snacks and water in sitting across the tub with warm steamy water underneath it.

“Come on, it’ll soothe your muscles,” he whispers in your ear.

“You’re joining me, right?” you ask almost innocently.

“If you want me to,” he says, not making eyes contact with you.

“Of course I do,” you whisper turning around and placing your hand on his cheek. He smiles and leans into it, kissing your palm.

You both step into the water, the warmth enveloping your muscles. You sink down into the tub, Chan behind you, rubbing your arms trying to help them relax.

“So how about you call out tomorrow,” Chan says in your ear, “And you let me pamper you, hmm?” he asks.

“I have to go back to work eventually.”

“I mean, you could just let me take care of you,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder before reaching around and opening one of the snacks for you.

“You know I like having my own money.”

“You don’t even hardly pay for anything anyways.”

“Chris,” you begin, “That’s because you always beat me to it.”

“Just one day,” he says.

“A three-day weekend,” he encourages.

“We can do whatever you want.” He entices. You blush and rest against him.

“Fine, I doubt I’ll be able to walk properly anyway, considering I looked like a baby deer just getting to the bathroom,” you joke.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght

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whisperedmeg · 23 hours ago

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THE LAW OF TRULY LARGE NUMBERS ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x analyst!reader

summary: the law of truly large numbers says coincidences are inevitable. but somehow, running into spencer reid never stops feeling like fate.

genre: fluff! | w/c: 3.4k

tags/warnings: none really. reader has some self-image issues and insecurities related to a sucky ex but nothing too crazy. glasses!reid, reader works for the fbi but not the bau, written with fem!reader in mind but could pass for gn!reader too if you ignore one use of the world “girl,” story takes place over the course of a few weeks but I wasn’t wildly specific about it

a/n: based on this request from @oh-yourloveis-sunlight! this ended up getting longer than I intended originally but oh well, I was having way too much fun coming up with ideas for how they’d run into each other next lol. hope you enjoy, tysm for requesting! ❣️

You first meet Spencer Reid at 8:21am on a Tuesday morning.

You’re holding a paper bag of still-warm pastries because your unit chief is on a “morale boost” kick this week and nothing says team bonding like volunteering to bring in baked goods. You’re thinking about the long day ahead and how stale the break room coffee is going to be and not watching where you’re going when the elevator doors open and—

You almost walk straight into him.

He’s tall. Tall-tall. And thin in a slightly unwell academic way, tousled brown hair parted on the side, honey brown eyes wide and blinking at you through browline glasses.

“Sorry,” you both say at once. You take a step back. So does he. Then he does that thing people do where he gestures for you to go ahead, and you hesitate before stepping forward at the same time as him, and now you’re doing an awkward, uncoordinated dance in front of a steel box.

Eventually, you both make it in.

You press the button for floor 5. He presses 6. Someone else gets in and hits the button for 4.

You stand silently. He glances at you. Then down at the floor. Then at your badge, clipped to the waistband of your dress pants. Then at the bag of pastries.

“The cinnamon ones are the best. If those are from Van’s, I mean,” he says tentatively.

You blink. “They are, actually.”

He nods. “They use Saigon cinnamon. It’s from Vietnam. It’s stronger, a little spicier than regular cinnamon. I—sorry, I’ve, uh, read a lot about spices recently.”

You don’t have time to answer before the doors open and he’s stepping out into the hallway, manila file folder tucked under his arm.

It takes you a second to realize he got off on the fourth floor with the other passenger by mistake. You catch him making an embarrassed, awkward turn back toward the elevators once he’s halfway down the hall before the metal doors slide shut.

You think about Saigon cinnamon and those glasses for the rest of the day.

—

Friday morning, 9:12am. You’re running horribly late.

You’ve got a USB stick in your hand and a mission in your head — get it encrypted, get it cleaned up, get it into the system by 10am. You’re halfway through the lobby when someone says your name.

You freeze. Turn. He’s already waving.

It takes you a second to place him without the glasses.

He’s wearing contacts today. His hair’s a little neater. Another soft sweater — burgundy this time — and a leather messenger bag slung across his chest like he just walked out of a grad seminar.

“Hey,” he says, catching up with you near the badge check. “Van’s cinnamon pastries, right?”

You smile despite yourself. “You’re still thinking about those?”

“Hard not to,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m Spencer,” he adds, like you don’t already know that from his badge, same way you assume he knew your name.

You both hesitate. You’re painfully aware of the USB drive in your hand and the growing line of people waiting for the elevators and the clock ticking steadily toward 10am. Your eyes dart to the stairs — they seem to be the fastest option.

He shifts his weight, pushes his hair back behind one ear.

“Can I walk you up?”

You blink. “What?”

“To wherever you’re going. I’m headed to the sixth floor, but I’m not in a rush. We’re between cases right now.”

You laugh. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Too late,” he says, and he falls into step beside you.

—

It’s raining when you see him again.

Not dramatic rain, just a halfhearted Virginia drizzle that dampens your sleeves while you fumble with your umbrella and mutter curses under your breath. You duck into the small coffee shop across from the office — the one with the black bistro tables and an overfilled bulletin board — and shake the water from your coat as you slide into line.

You don’t see him at first. You’re too busy debating between hot chocolate and your usual latte.

But then someone behind you says your name.

You turn, and there he is.

Spencer.

Hair damp and curling slightly at the edges. Glasses fogged. Sweater vest layered under a coat too thin for this kind of weather. He smiles at you — tentative, like he’s not sure if you’ll smile back.

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless. “You following me?”

He blushes. “No, I’m—I mean, we both work across the street, so it’s not, um, statistically improbable we’d run into each other here.”

“I’ll chalk it up to fate.”

He huffs a quiet laugh and steps up beside you.

“Can I guess your order?” he asks.

You arch a brow. “You’re going to profile my coffee?”

He shrugs. “I can try.”

“Be my guest.”

He tilts his head. “You work long hours. You probably don’t get enough sleep. You must drink something with espresso in it, but not just that — it has to be dressed up enough to feel like a treat. Maybe a seasonal flavor.”

Your jaw drops a little. “Okay, that’s… freakishly accurate.”

“Caramel latte?” he guesses.

“Close. Pumpkin,” you admit. “But that was impressive.”

He shrugs again, cheeks a little pink. “Lots of practice.”

A few minutes later, you’re both perched at one of the tiny round tables by the fogged-up window, drinks in hand, steam curling up between you. You’re technically on your break. So is he. Neither of you seems eager to get back.

You ask what he’s working on. He tells you about his last case, a triple homicide in Texas. Then he asks about your job, and you explain — badly — what exactly a tech analyst does for a department that isn’t the BAU. You’re pretty sure you’re boring him to death, but he’s watching you like you’ve just quoted Wordsworth.

“You talk with your hands a lot,” he says, after a pause.

You blink. “What?”

“When you’re excited,” he adds, quickly. “Not all the time. Just when you’re explaining something that matters to you. You kind of —” he makes a vague fluttering motion with his fingers, “— move them like you’re sculpting the air or something.”

Your face burns. You wrap your hands around your coffee cup.

“Oh. Yeah. That,” you murmur. “My ex used to say it was distracting.”

Spencer’s expression shifts. It’s subtle, but you see it — a flicker of something protective in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s distracting,” he says. “I think it’s cute.”

You freeze.

He freezes.

The moment folds in on itself. His face goes pink again, and he ducks his head as he mutters something about meaning it in a completely observational way, not, you know—

You interrupt before he can spiral further. “Spencer.”

He looks up.

You smile. “It’s okay.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Rain patters softly against the glass. In your chest, something flutters.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a friendly coffee. A weird coincidence of schedules and elevators and cinnamon pastries. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.

But when he offers to walk you back — and when you say yes — your heart betrays you a little.

—

The FBI library isn’t exactly cozy. It smells like aging carpet and copier toner, but there’s still something about it that you’ve always found comforting. Especially on days like today, when your code has glitched five separate times and someone on your team said “let’s pivot” like that actually means anything and you just need a break away from a screen.

You’re curled up at one of the long wooden tables near the back with a spiral notebook, a pencil, and a pile of casefiles your unit chief asked you to cross-reference to give you an excuse to work on something that didn’t involve a keyboard. It’s not thrilling, but it’s quiet. Which counts for something.

You don’t notice Spencer at first.

He’s sitting at a smaller table a few feet from yours when you glance up — half-hidden behind a teetering stack of psychology journals, long fingers curled around a fountain pen, hair falling into his face.

He looks up a second after you do.

“You again,” he says softly, like it’s a private joke.

You arch an eyebrow. “Starting to think you’re stalking me.”

“You’re the one in my library,” he says, mock offended.

“Your library?”

He nods. “I basically live here.”

You glance at the empty paper cup beside him, the five or six books spread out across the table, the absurdly detailed notes he’s scrawling in messy handwriting.

“Yeah, I can see that. You’ve really made yourself at home.”

Silently, he gathers his belongings and moves to take the empty seat across from you at your table.

You go back to your work. So does he.

But every few minutes, you catch yourself glancing up.

Not on purpose, not exactly. It’s just… he’s got this way of reading like he’s somewhere else entirely. Lips moving a little. Eyes flicking fast across pages. You wonder if he knows how intense he looks when he’s thinking. How pretty his hands are when they move — when he writes, when he fidgets with his pen, when he adjusts his glasses like he’s trying to hide behind them.

You wonder what it would feel like if he looked at you the way he looks at those pages or if he touched you with those hands.

He wouldn’t, of course.

You’ve long accepted that you’re not the kind of girl guys like that go for — not crisp and stylish, not someone who walks into a room and makes the temperature change. You’ve never quite known how to wear your hair right, or what to do with your hands, or how to stop fixating on the way your nose looks in photos. You haven’t even dated since the last guy — the one who told you that you were being “a little much” anytime you got excited about something.

You shake your head. Focus.

You’re halfway through reviewing the next file when you realize Spencer’s watching you.

“Sorry,” he says, when you meet his eyes. “I was just—I was going to ask if that’s a 0.7mm Pentel mechanical pencil.”

You blink. Look down. “Uh… yeah?”

“I thought so,” he says. “You write really small. And neat.”

You stare at him, then down at your paper, then back up.

“Are you profiling my handwriting now?”

He shrugs, looking sheepish. “Only a little.”

You smile despite yourself.

After a pause, he adds, “I like it — your handwriting. It’s meticulous.”

You laugh. “I’ve never heard that word used as a compliment before.”

“Well, I mean it as one.”

There’s something in his voice — not flirtatious, exactly, but sincere. Earnest. He doesn’t even realize it’s making your heart hiccup a little.

You don’t talk much more after that, but when you both stand up at the same time twenty minutes later and realize you’re heading out in the same direction, you fall easily into step beside him.

And this time, you both walk a little slower.

—

It’s just after 1 p.m. when you walk into the Quantico cafeteria.

The lunch rush is tapering off — fewer suits in line, more empty trays abandoned on beige tables. You slide your badge into your pocket and step toward the soup station, only half paying attention. You haven’t eaten much today, and your stomach’s been in knots ever since Spencer spotted you in the stairwell earlier and asked what time you were heading to lunch.

You try to act casual when you spot him.

He’s at a table near the window, brown paper bag open in front of him and a spiral notebook beside it. He’s writing something down, but he looks up the moment you approach as if he’d been eagerly waiting.

“Hey,” he says, and the smile he gives you is small and a little shy. “I was hoping you’d come.”

You sit across from him, tray in hand. “Yeah, well, you did say in the library last week that the soup selection is better on Thursdays.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You remembered that?”

You nod, breaking off a piece of bread. “You said it’s the only day they serve lentil soup, which also happens to be the only soup they make that you claim is any good.”

“I stand by that.”

You laugh, and the warmth of it catches you off guard. It’s easy with him. You like the way he doesn’t fill silences just to fill them and how he listens like every word you say is a thread he wants to follow all the way to its center.

You talk for a while. About work, a little. About books and poetry and music. About your mutual disbelief that anyone could function on decaf. He doesn’t flirt, not exactly, but he compliments you — in that slightly awkward, matter-of-fact, Spencer Reid way that’s somehow more disarming than a rehearsed line.

You’re telling him about your failed attempt to install a new monitor alone while you had a broken arm last year when he goes still for a moment, causing you to trail off into silence. He clears his throat.

“Would you maybe want to, uh, go out with me sometime?”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

“What?”

He fidgets. Pushes his glasses up. “I mean, like, to a real lunch or coffee or something. Not in the office. I just—I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, and I was thinking, if you wanted, we could—”

You shake your head.

It’s not harsh. You don’t mean it to be. It’s just… instinct.

He stops talking. His face falters. “Oh,” he says softly. “Okay. Yeah. No worries.”

You rush to explain. “It’s not you. Really—I mean, I just… don’t get it. Why would you want to go out with me?”

Spencer blinks.

You look down at your tray. “You’re a genius,” you murmur, voice low. “You’ve probably read more books this week alone than I have in the last two years. You talk like a textbook and still somehow make everything sound incredibly poetic. And you—God, you’re so—”

Cute. Attractive. Hot. That’s what you want to say, but you stop yourself before you can finish the statement. You swallow hard.

“And I’m… not,” you finish quietly.

It’s not that you don’t want to say yes. God, you do. But there’s a familiar ache in your chest, a voice you haven’t shaken, the echo of someone who once made you feel like being too much meant you’d also always be not enough.

Across from you, Spencer is silent. For a second, you wonder if he’s angry. Or worse, embarrassed.

But when you finally look up, he’s just watching you — gently, curiously, like he’s figuring something out.

He opens his mouth. Then closes it again. His brow furrows slightly.

You stand. The words come out too quickly: “I should get back to my office. I’ve got a code freeze coming up and I told my boss I’d review the rollout plan before—yeah.”

He nods. “Right. Of course. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

You hate the way his voice sounds now — too polite. Too guarded.

You force a smile as you gather your tray. “Thanks again for the soup rec.”

You make it out of the cafeteria before the lump in your throat rises.

You tell yourself it was the right call. It’s better this way. You’re not built for someone like him. You’d only mess it up.

But when you glance back, just once, through the glass of the cafeteria doors, Spencer’s still sitting there, scribbling in his notebook like maybe if he writes enough, he can make sense of whatever just happened.

You don’t know it yet, but he’s writing a list.

—

It’s raining again the next afternoon.

Not much — just a misty drizzle that turns the parking lot into a soft gray blur. You’re already halfway to your car when you hear footsteps behind you. Then a voice, calling your name.

“Wait—wait, just—can you stop for a second?”

You turn.

Spencer is jogging toward you, messenger bag bouncing against his hip, one hand holding a flimsy-looking umbrella, the other gripping something — a piece of paper, maybe. His coat is half-buttoned. His glasses are a little fogged.

He’s completely out of breath by the time he reaches you.

“Hi,” he pants. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to chase you down, I just—I tried to find you on your floor, and they said you left early, and I—”

You blink. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “No. I mean—I’ve been thinking. Since yesterday.”

You look away. “Spencer, we don’t have to talk about—”

“I made a list,” he blurts out.

You freeze. “What?”

He thrusts it at you — a folded piece of notebook paper, lined, slightly smudged. You unfold it slowly, holding it under the umbrella he’s angled over you, and he watches you like he’s just handed over something radioactive.

It reads:

Reasons I like you and want to go out with you: A non-exhaustive list by Dr. Spencer Reid

you talk with your hands

you remember weird things I say about soup

you were nice to me in the elevator even though I rambled about cinnamon

you snort when you laugh (you try to hide it but I’ve heard it twice)

you don’t pretend to know things you don’t, and you always ask good questions

you hum under your breath when you’re concentrating

you don’t hold my technophobe tendencies against me even though your job is literally all tech all the time

your whole face lights up when you’re excited about something

we have the same taste in pastries and poetry and classical music

you talk about the people you care about with more kindness and affection than I thought possible

your nose scrunches a little when you’re confused and I think it’s adorable

speaking of which, I think everything about you is adorable. “beautiful” would be a more apt word to use, actually

you said us meeting in the coffee shop that one day was “fate” and I haven’t stopped thinking about it (or believing in it) since

You stare at the list for a long moment. Then you press your lips together, eyes stinging.

“It’s not exhaustive,” Spencer says quietly. “And it’s in no particular order. I wrote it fast. I could probably think of twenty more things. I… I like lists.”

Your fingers tremble slightly on the page.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur. “You’re… you. And I’m…” You trail off.

He tilts his head, studying you. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

You look away.

He steps forward, voice softer now.

“I don’t like you despite who you are — I like you because of it. Because you say what you mean, and you get excited about the little things, and you care more than most people do, and you never look at me like I’m too nerdy or too awkward or too much.”

Your chest tightens.

“I thought I messed everything up yesterday,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“No,” he says. “You were just scared. I get that.”

“I’m still scared,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says, and there’s a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Me too. We can be scared together.”

You smile and fold the list carefully like it’s something delicate.

And before you can overthink it, before the doubt creeps in again, you lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

But in the same moment, he coincidentally turns his head just slightly. Just enough that your lips land on his mouth instead.

It’s only for a second. A little awkward. Completely accidental, but also completely real.

He blinks. You blink.

You start to pull away.

But then he wraps his free arm around you and kisses you again, on purpose this time, the umbrella overhead shielding you both from the rain. It doesn’t last too long, but it’s soft and smiley and achingly wonderful.

When you break apart, you’re still in disbelief that it even happened at all. You look up at him, studying him, searching his face for signs of regret. You can’t find any.

“I keep thinking about all the times we ran into each other,” you say softly. “So many coincidences, it almost feels improbable.”

He smiles again, brighter this time. “There’s a theory called the law of truly large numbers,” he says. “It basically says that with a large enough sample size, coincidences are inevitable.”

You tilt your head with a quiet chuckle. “So this was all just math, basically? That’s kind of depressing.”

“Or,” he says, stepping closer, “it means the universe just kept trying. Over and over, until it got it right. Like fate.”

You smile fondly and kiss him again before he can say anything else.

Not just a coincidence. Not anymore.

ᝰ.ᐟ

masterlist

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yothatshitgas · 2 days ago

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The Dress

Pairing: Paige x Azzi Word Count: 3.2k

Note: Work of fiction. This was meant to be a quick one shot, but it went beyond the length I expected. So I'm splitting it into two parts. Song is The Dress by Dijon. AU of Paige never recruiting Azzi to UConn.

Part 2

“Well, it's official,” Nika said without looking up from her phone, “we just got the best damn shooter in the country.”

Paige turned her head slowly toward Nika, who tilted her phone just enough for her to see the screen. It was an Instagram post, bold UConn Blue letters across the top: Committed. Behind the text was a photo of a girl with curly hair styled in two french braids, she donned a Blue University of Connecticut varsity jacket over the program’s uniform. She wore a bright smile with two dimples accompanying. Azzi Fudd. Her transfer announcement had gone live, nearly a month after she’d blown up the internet by entering the portal, just a week after UCLA’s Elite Eight loss.

“You played with her before, right?” Nika asked, chewing her gum as she leaned back against the wall. They were both sitting cross legged on the training room floor, their post practice routine.

Paige nodded, a slow smirk forming on her lips. She couldn’t help it. For the first time in a long time, it felt like everything was finally aligning. The team was healthy again, anchored by three of the most dangerous juniors in the country. And Paige was right at the center of it. Now? They were adding her, the same player Steph Curry once called an ‘automatic bucket.’ They were going to bring the championship back to Storrs, a feat that the program has been chasing for over five years now.

Although, if Paige was being honest, it wasn’t the championship that had her grinning like a fool in her seat. It was Azzi.

They’d played together for two summers on Team USA, their chemistry unmistakable and from the moment she met Azzi that first summer, she’d had a crush. Immediate. Electric. It was the way Azzi moved, fluid and fearless, every shot slipping through the net like it belonged there. She made it look effortless, like her body was made for basketball. Paige couldn’t look away, she was impressed. Maybe even addicted, not that she’d ever admit it out loud.

And then there was the smile. God, the smile. Bright and dangerous, framed by dimples so deep they looked carved into her cheeks by some mischievous higher power, as if they were invitations for Paige she wasn’t so sure she should take. She’d never known desire to take shape of something as deceptively innocent as a smile, but with Azzi, it was right there in the curl of her lips and the light in her eyes.

Paige tried to flirt. Or, well, her awkward approximation of flirting. She teased. She poked. She pressed buttons she had no business touching, all under the guise of playful annoyance. But Azzi never flinched. She didn’t shy away or shut it down. If anything, she leaned in. Snapped back with her own witty jabs, turning every interaction into a game of verbal tug of war. There was a rhythm to it, a cadence only they seemed to understand. Push, pull. Give, take.

They never said they wanted more. But the signs were there, quiet and consistent. The way Paige’s hand would linger on Azzi’s shoulder during a huddle, her thumb brushing lightly along the seam of her jersey. The way Azzi would find her way to Paige’s room on nights when the rest of the girls gathered in the hotel lobby, chasing gossip and late night snacks. Yet, it was fleeting. Always understood to be temporary, wrapped in the golden haze of summer. When the final buzzer of their last game sounded and Team USA disbanded for the year, they returned to their regular lives. Back to high school, back to expectations, back to reality.

They followed each other on social media, of course. Swapped numbers. Left the door cracked open, just enough to peek through from time to time. A like there. An emoji reaction there. A birthday message. A ‘Merry Christmas’ that never turned into more. It was a quiet kind of closeness. One that never asked for anything, never dared to define what they’d shared.

And then came their second year on Team USA.

Whatever simple, harmless crush Paige thought she’d had the summer before had evolved into something far less manageable. Azzi had changed. In all the right, most unfair way. She still had that same soft smile, still flashed those killer dimples like they were jokes only Paige got to understand. But now she was taller. Leaner. Stronger. More confident, both grounded and untouchable. And she had gotten better on the court, it was like watching magic refined into muscle memory. Her shots weren’t just good, they were lethal. And Paige, elite as she was, found herself staring more than she should have.

Just like that, all the fleeting, fluttering feelings Paige thought she’d neatly boxed up and shelved from the year before came crashing back with the subtlety of a freight train. No warning. No mercy.

Paige was obsessed.

And this time, she knew it. She couldn’t hide it, didn’t even try, to be honest. Not when Azzi laughed in that low, breathy way that made Paige’s chest tighten. Not when she pulled her hair back into a puff and wiped sweat off her brow mid-practice, looking entirely unbothered by the way the blonde stared at the other side of the court. Not when she threw an arm around Paige’s shoulder like it meant nothing and everything all at once.

Lines were crossed on their last night of the world cup.

One minute, they were just talking, curled up in the dim hush of Paige’s hotel room. The glow of a single bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air between them had been warm with something unspoken, humming with the energy of everything they refused to name. They talked about everything and nothing at all - inside jokes, music, the future, what home even meant when you were always on the move. In between their words, there was laughter. The kind that couldn’t exist anywhere else but inside those four walls.

Paige’s hand brushed against Azzi’s, just the slightest graze. Azzi, true to herself, didn’t flinch. Didn’t shift away, instead her fingers stayed right there, resting against Paige’s like she’d been waiting for that exact moment to happen. So Paige took it. She laced their fingers together slowly, and without thinking too hard, Paige leaned in and kissed Azzi.

Quick. Gentle. Barely more than a breath.

But it was real.

And by cruel design of the universe, they flew home the very next day. One moment, they were curled up in the safety of each other’s silence, hands still remembering the weight of that first kiss. And the next, they were separated by thousands of miles and the divergent paths of two girls chasing greatness. Their lives, so full of promise, were equally full of obligations. Training schedules, family responsibilities and looming seasons, all conspiring to keep them apart.

But they tried. This time, they really tried.

Late night calls that stretched until one of them drifted off mid-sentence, the quiet hum of breath on the line more comforting than any lullaby. Text messages layered with longing, little confessions wrapped in emojis and inside jokes. Wish you were here sent from gyms and bedrooms, from the backseats of carpools and early morning flights. For a while, it was enough. For a while, it felt like they were still tethered by that final night.

Fall came and with it, the return to school and structure. Paige threw herself into her senior year, laser focused on getting her team their first state championship. Azzi, on the other hand, was already a legend in her own right. She led her squad to dominate the DMV circuit, her name whispered across courts and hallways with equal reverence. Their training regimens didn’t align. Their free time evaporated. Slowly, inevitably, the tether stretched thin.

Hour long conversations became missed calls. Quick replies turned into half read messages, then long gaps followed by apologetic explanations: sorry, been slammed with practice. Didn’t mean to ghost, just tired. And even though neither of them said it, both could feel the shift. A subtle, aching distance growing between them like a bruise they didn’t want to press on.

But how could they be upset? They hadn’t labeled what they were. No promises. No commitments. Just a summer and a kiss and a lingering thread of connection that neither of them had the language to define. They were temporary constants, steady for a while then they faded, slowly. Like sunlight slipping out of a room.

By the time the new year came, they’d had the conversation. It made sense, they told themselves. Best to focus on the year ahead. College, basketball, the future. There was no big heartbreak. No blowout fight. Just a quiet understanding that they were living parallel lives that couldn’t quite overlap.

Paige graduated that spring and slipped into a UConn jersey like she was born to wear it. She dove headfirst into a new world of expectation and cameras and team dynamics. Meanwhile, Azzi earned her spot on the USA U18 team for a third year, one again disappearing into the blur of red, white and blue.

They became what ifs in lives that had no choice but to embrace what is.

And Paige came to terms with it. She didn’t reach out. Didn’t push, she offered her support the only way she knew how: from a distance. She liked Azzi’s posts, watched her interviews. Caught clips of her games when she could, always with a small, private smile tugging at her lips. Azzi was thriving, just like everyone knew she would. She only grew brighter with every passing season.

It hadn’t come as a surprise when Azzi announced her commitment to UCLA for her 18th birthday. It was expected. She’d spoked about being a Bruin for as long as they’ve known each other, her dream school etched into her like gospel. The announcement had felt more like a formality than news - the rest of the world finally catching up to what Azzi had always known. She belonged out west and she made sure the entire country knew. Within weeks of stepping on campus, Azzi had the Big Ten on notice. Her name already being whispered in the same breath as legends.

Meanwhile, Paige was learning how quickly everything you love can be taken away.

The injury happened during an early pre-season game. One awkward step, one wrong pivot and her world shifted. A torn ACL. Just like that. It was cruel in its simplicity, the way her body betrayed her before her sophomore season even began. Surgery followed. Then the slow, grueling climb of recovery. She became a permanent fixture on the bench, forced to watch her teammates chase a season she couldn’t be part of.

She tried to be supportive. She cheered, clapped, smiled for the cameras. But there were nights she’d go home and cry into her pillow, the pain in her knee dull compared to the ache in her chest. She was used to leading from the court, not the sidelines. By the time she finally cleared - after months of rehab, doctor visits and mental battles - UConn’s season was already winding down. They’d fought hard. Won regionals. Took home the Big East Championship. But the goal had never been just conference titles, it had always been the Final Four and they hadn’t made it. Their battle cut short at the Sweet 16.

Now, Paige sat shoulder to shoulder with Nika on the training room floor, backs pressed to the cool wall, a silence settling between them that felt more like recovery than rest. It had only been a couple months since their season ended in heartbreak, an early exit no one had seen coming, especially not a program like UConn and yet, somehow, despite all the disappointment, all the bruised egos and quiet tears behind closed doors, they’d managed to pull off a miracle.

Paige let out a quiet huff, still a little dazed, “I honestly don’t know how we pulled that off,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Nika glanced over, arching a brow, “I’m telling you, it’s Geno and CD, voodoo magic. Mind tricks.”

Paige chuckled under her breath, shaking her head, “that, or we’ve just gotten really good at begging.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m quite the charmer,” Nika shot back, popping her gum with a grin, “but really, she’s coming. Two weeks.”

Paige didn’t hesitate, her smirk returning, “ready as I’ll ever be.”

Azzi’s arrival on campus was the calm before the storm.

One minute, the whole team was crowding into her new room, helping her unpack boxes and making jokes about who would steal her snacks first. The next, they were back in the gym, running full-speed scrimmages with brand new plays. Sets tailored for a starting lineup that now included one of the most dangerous scorers in the country.

There was no easing into it. No breathers. Not when every single girl on that court knew exactly what was at stake. This season wasn’t just about redemption, it was about destiny. Everyone could feel it in their bones. But destiny didn’t come without sweat. Without bruises, arguments, late night film sessions and early morning lifts. That was the plan, grind now, win later. Work until their body ached and their chemistry became second nature. Until everything led to one singular moment: holding up that trophy, giving Geno his twelfth national title.

And giving themselves their first.

There hadn’t been a quiet moment for Paige and Azzi to officially acknowledge their reunion. No catching up beyond polite smiles and half-spoken words in between drills. They were cordial, professional, even. But the court told a different story. Their chemistry ignited the second the ball hit the hardwood. Every movement flowed like muscle memory. Every pass, every glance, every instinctive pivot fell into place with the kind of synchronicity that couldn't be taught.

One play, in particular, turned heads.

It started with Paige dribbling near the left wing, her eyes scanning the floor like time had slowed specifically for that moment. Azzi lingered near the baseline, then took off on a sharp, lightning fast cut up the lane. The timing was perfect. Nika and Aaliyah closed in to set an elevator screen at the free throw line, bodies colliding like doors slamming shut behind her. Azzi squeezed through the seam just as Paige shifted her weight and fired a crisp chest pass to the top of the key.

Azzi caught it in rhythm, feet set and shoulders squared.

Splash.

Three points. Nothing but net. Textbook shooting form, a quick release and an arch even Steph Curry would be jealous of.

The gym erupted, not in chaos but in that stunned, respectful silence that happens when everyone recognizes perfection in motion. Even the practice players look rattled, exchanging glances like they’d just seen something unfair.

Geno blew his whistle, but not to stop the drill. Just to nod.

“Run it again,” he barked, barely masking the satisfaction in his tone.

“Finally caught you,” Paige called out, her voice echoing through the mostly empty gym as she stepped inside, hair damp from a shower. Her sneakers squeaked lightly against the hardwood as she walked in, “you know we don’t hand out gold stars for being the last one in the gym, right?”

Azzi glanced over from the free throw line, her expression unreadable at first until that familiar smile crept across her face. The same one that had lived in the back of Paige’s mind far longer than she’d like to admit. “You’re acting like I’ve been hiding.”

“You have,” Paige said easily, striding toward her without breaking eye contact. On her way, she snagged a loose ball that had rolled toward the baseline and gave it a sharp bounce pass back to Azzi, “I tried to give you a ride to practice this morning and you practically dragged Caroline out of the room with the way you rushed her.”

Azzi caught the ball, but didn’t respond. Not with words, anyway. She turned back toward the line, dribbled twice, bounced the ball with a spin that landed it back in her hands and planted her feet. The gym fell quiet again, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights and rhythmic creak of the old backboard as her shot sailed through the air and dropped clean the net. No rim. No hesitation.

Swish.

Paige walked beneath the hoop, casually plucking the ball as it came down through the net. She didn’t say anything right away. Just held the ball in her hands, then bounced it back to Azzi with a soft thud that echoed in the silence between them.

“Same routine,” Paige said, softer now.

Azzi caught the ball, effortlessly but didn’t lift it for another shot. Instead, she stood at the line, cradling it against her hip, her thumbs slowly brushing the textured grooves. Her gaze dipped toward the floor, then traced a path back up to Paige, lingering a second too long.

“How’s your knee?” she asked softly, then her eyes dropped again, trailing down Paige’s legs, “did you stick to the recovery regimen? No shortcuts?”

Paige smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching upward, “yes, mom.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but it didn’t hide the flicker of concern behind them.

“I’m serious,” she said, her tone firmer now, “people cut corners all the time. Especially when they’re trying to get back to something that matters.”

Paige leaned against the padded base of the basket, arms crossed loosely over her chest, “I didn’t cheat the process, Az,” she said, drifting at the nickname that she’d used from the moment they’d met, “not once.”

They stood in silence for a beat, then Paige pushed herself off the padded base, each step toward Azzi slow and deliberate. She didn’t leave much space for the unspoken. Didn’t want to. When she reached her, she let her fingers gently trail along Azzi’s arm until they reached her hand. She let them linger there, light but present.

“Why did you transfer, Az?” Paige asked, her voice low and quiet, she was trying to protect the moment from the rest of the world, “you were doing so good in Cali. It's not your parents, they’d fly to the other side of the world just to see you play. So what is it?”

A pause.

“Is it me?”

Azzi turned her head just slightly, “you’re giving yourself way too much credit, Paige,” she said, her voice playful.

“Want to play for the truth?” Paige asked, jerking her chin toward the hoop, her tone dipped flirtatiously, like she already knew the answer, “horse?”

Azzi quirked a brow, intrigued, “that your idea of an interrogation tactic now?”

“No,” Paige replied, already walking back toward the top of the key, “its my idea of foreplay.”

Azzi let out a laugh, but she followed, slowly walking to the free throw line, “fine,” she said, looking over at Paige with narrowed eyes and a teasing grin, “every missed shot a is a letter and a question, don’t want to answer? Another letter.”

Paige grinned, “game on.”

#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi

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inkly-heart · 1 day ago

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Well since you use YouTube could you make playlists there instead for the main three? They don't have to be super big, I'm just very interested in their music taste. 🙇‍♀️💦💚✨

((obviously if you don't wanna that's perfectly okay. 🫰))

Ok I tried my best to looks some what fits their music taste and not to go with the "Oh this gives DG/Damon/Rasmus vibes based on the lyrics"xD I'm sure I would have found even more but I think I will go with these. I'm sure these gives some good examples what kind of music or rhythm they likes. 🌱 💙DG- Jagwar Twin - Happy Face, Wild Fire - Villain, MISSIO - I don't give a..., Billie Eilish - Bad guy, Twenty one pilots - Chlorine, Mystery Skulls- Paralyzed, Jack Conte – Kitchen Fork, Herrat - Kumiankka, Madeon - Pop Culture, The Queenstons - What you do, Brick + Mortar - Terrible Things, Babymetal - Pa Pa Ya!!, The Correspondents - Puppet Loosely Strung, Poor Mans Poison - Give and Take, Play with me (Sonic.EXE song), ROSÉ & Bruno Mars - APT., Ice Nine Kills - Work of Art, Loveit? / biz×ZERA feat LOLUET.

❤️Damon- Autoheart stalker's tango, bbno$ - meant to be, I don't know how but they found me - Mx. Sinister, 8 Graves - Beast, The Raconteurs - Now that you're gone, NEFFEX - Cold, Alec Benjamin - If I killed someone for you, Ken Ashcorp - Awkward, Imaginary Dragon - Believer, System of down, Ed Sheeran - Shivers, Earendil – Voices In My Head, Yaelokre - Harpy Hare, The Killers - Mr. Brightside, Moechakkafire - Ichise. 💜Rasmus- Solence - Blackout, Solence - Animal in me, Jagwar Twin - I Like To Party, Ben Woodward - Lost without you, Bad Omens - Just pretend, I Prevail - stuck in your head, Skillet - Back from the dead, State of Mine - Rise, Shinedown - Planet Zero, Bortion Boys and Teflon Brothers - Nautin Elämästä, Käärijä - Cha Cha Cha, Journey - Separate ways (worlds apart) - Cover by Eva Under fire, Sueco - Outta my Head, ALIEN STAGE//BLINK GONE.

#funkyfreshanon #ask

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sweetshuga · 3 hours ago

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𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓?

𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒕

ⓘ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕! ⋆ pure filth ⋆ best friends ⋆ sexual tension ⋆ pet names ⋆ sleepover gone wrong (or right) ⋆ threesome (no incest—and please sybau if you think ts is incest) ⋆ eiffel tower ⋆ dacryphilia ⋆ blowjob ⋆ face fucking ⋆ raw doggin’ ⋆ backshots ⋆ spanking ⋆ degradation & praise kink + more.

"Would you rather sleep with me or Matt?" Chris asked, grinning from ear to ear, probably finding his own question to be quite amusing.

Well. It was funny. Hilarious even.

The fact that you’d choose both without hesitation was what made it hilarious. But you couldn’t say that out loud of course.

You blinked at him, then looked at Matt, before looking back at Chris—your eyes flickering between the two brothers. You let out a small laugh, too shaky to be one of amusement. More nervous than anything.

"Don’t joke about shit like that–"

You tried to dismiss it. But Matt spoke before you could say anything else.

"We’re serious," he said. "Me or Chris?"

You shifted in your seat, torn between telling them the truth and making it awkward or keeping it to yourself and laughing it off.

After some inner debate, you finally answered the question. "Both."

Matt and Chris barely heard what you said because of how quiet you were. A "huh?" leaving them both as they stared at you with confused expressions.

You looked down at your lap, face burning as you repeated yourself. Louder this time. "Both. I’d choose both."

Their teasing smirks faltered, replaced by genuine surprise, as if they couldn’t believe you actually answered sincerely. They probably thought you’d tell them to fuck off.

Chris cleared his throat and mumbled under his breath. "Well, that’s..." he trailed off, sharing a look with Matt before looking back at you with an unreadable expression. "You serious?"

You stood up suddenly, unable to handle the inevitable confrontation and the aftermath of your words. "I’m going to the bathroom." You mumbled and quickly walked out of the room before they could stop you.

A few minutes later, you walked back into Matt’s room, steeling yourself for the questions.

But none of them spoke when you entered. Their blue orbs bore into you with an intensity that had you feeling like you couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Matt spoke, his voice coming out huskier and deeper than usual. "Were you being serious when you said you’d do both of us?"

The seriousness in his voice made all the jokes you could’ve used die in your throat, causing you to go speechless for a second. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of the water, no sound coming out despite your best efforts.

You closed your mouth, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You didn’t know what to say. Were you supposed to say yes? Or no? You couldn’t tell what they were thinking—their expressions were too complicated to read.

"Yeah." You whispered, opting to be truthful.

Although you finally found your voice it was too quiet for them to take as a proper answer.

"Hm..." Chris murmured, his eyes searching your face.

A slow smirk crept onto his face, his eyes darkening with something that resembled... desire?

No. You’re probably just imagining it. There’s no way–

"Why are you just standing there? Aren’t you gonna sit?"

Chris’s teasing words made your mind go blank. You cursed internally, only now realizing how stupid you looked standing by the door and fidgeting like an idiot.

"Ye-yeah, I was about to sit." You wanted to jump into a rabbit hole like Alice and disappear into the wonderland the moment that stutter left your lips.

God, you probably sounded so nervous.

"You sound nervous. Why is that?" Matt questioned, nailing the hammer to the head. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners as he smirked, mirroring Chris’s expression.

You could almost hear the laughter in Matt’s voice, causing you to cringe, knowing how you’re acting but unable to be normal after that.

"It’s nothing. Let’s continue playing." You tried to lighten the tension in the room, but Matt and Chris didn’t let you.

"You sure?" Chris chuckled.

What did he mean by that?

"What? I am sure." You blinked, trying to gulp down the words that would ruin your friendship for sure.

You wanted them both. You always have. You imagined their hands on you, their lips brushing your skin, their intoxicating scents taking over your senses as they use you–

Stop it. What the fuck are you thinking?

You wanted to bang your head against the wall until it knocked some sense into you. You couldn’t be thinking such things about them. You’ve been friends forever. What you had was too precious to trade for something as stupid as lust.

But the room felt hotter the more you played. The questions got more and more explicit. Each one so close to breaking the fragile wall you had built to keep the friendship from turning into something else.

Maybe it was just your imagination but the brothers seemed to be sitting a lot closer to you than they were before. Their arms brushed against yours each time they moved. Their bodies were so close—enough for your head to fog from the smell of their colognes mixing together.

"Hey." Chris whispered, putting his hand on your shoulder to get your attention. His voice was too close to your ear for comfort, causing a shudder to run down your spine. The hand on your shoulder made the skin there burn hot.

"Yeah?" You said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you turned your head towards Chris.

You hoped he didn’t notice the slight hitch in your breath when you spoke. But unfortunately for you, the smirk on his face told you everything you didn’t want to hear.

"You’re acting weird. All stiff and shit. You sure you’re okay?" He chuckled, slowly sliding his hand down your arm before dropping it back to his lap.

You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose or not. But one thing was for sure—you were getting turned on.

Matt noticed the exchange and let out a short snort.

"You do look stiff. Almost like you’re..." Matt trailed off, obviously on purpose. He was teasing you, leaving your head swirling with thoughts on what he was implying. And he liked the way your eyes widened by a fraction, panic crossing your face.

After an hour full of subtle teasing remarks and suffocating tension, you couldn’t take it anymore. You realized they wanted you to word it out. Otherwise, you’d be forever sandwiched between the two brunettes who obviously had no intention of making the first move.

With a slow sigh, you began. "Why are you two acting like this?"

They tensed briefly at your sudden question, but they didn’t look the least bit nervous at you calling them out. Instead, it felt as if they were waiting for you to speak up on their childish game.

"What are you talking about?" Matt laughed softly.

Which was followed by Chris’s amused words. "We’re acting like what?"

They were playing you like an idiot. Unraveling you bit by bit until you were on the verge of insanity from the amount of tension coiling around you.

"You’re acting like, like, you’re making fun of me." You mumbled, your voice quieter than you wanted it to be as you looked down at your lap.

You sighed internally. They’re for sure going to think you’re upset.

But you couldn't help it. Doubt had begun to spread through your head like a wildfire. What if they were teasing you because you looked stupid? God, you probably did look stupid. And maybe you were stupid. Stupid to think they’d ever feel anything more.

Chris and Matt noticed as you got more and more lost in thought. And they knew you were overthinking it. You always did.

The spark in the room dimmed and the tension vaporized. Their teasing smirks and the crinkle of amusement in the corners of their eyes disappeared, replaced with much softer, tender expressions.

You misunderstood them and they couldn’t let you do that.

"Hey," Chris’s voice was a lot softer than before, gently holding your arm and leaning his head down to get you to look at him.

"We weren’t making fun of you." Matt said sincerely, his soft gaze set on yours. "Look at me. You trust us right? We’d never make fun of you."

You sighed softly. "I know. I dunno why I thought that."

You felt even more stupid. You just made the atmosphere depressing and the knowledge made you want to throttle your own self.

"It’s fine-"

"Don’t lie." Chris cut you off. "We’ll make it up for you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Make up for what? You didn’t do anything wrong. Even if you did, how are you gonna make up for it?"

They exchanged a look, something unreadable passing between them before they both looked at you.

"You’ll see."

The back of Matt’s fingers caressed your rosy cheek, wiping away the fat tear rolling down it. Your lips were red and parted, a thick and sticky string of saliva connecting your front teeth to your bottom lip.

"Feels too good?" He asked, knowing the pleasure was messing with your head, causing you to lose coherency and the ability to talk without your words morphing into moans.

Your eyes glazed over and you barely kept them from rolling back. The feeling of Chris’s thick tip dragging across that spongy spot inside your walls had you gripping him like a vice, eliciting muttered curses from him.

A slap, sharp and loud, came on your already flushed ass, the skin reddening even more. A soft groan left Chris when he saw the way your ass recoiled and bounced against his hips, the wet smacking sounds going straight to his dick.

"You look so pretty." Matt murmured, wiping the drool that was beginning to leak down the side of your lips with his thumb, smudging it across your bottom lip instead.

"And y’feel so fucking good." Chris added, grunting in between.

Matt straightened up, his knees digging into the mattress in front of your hands as he gripped the base of his fat cock. The tip was red and swollen, veins bulging and throbbing along the shaft.

He brushed the tip of his cock across your lips, making them glisten with precum. He could feel his dick twitch in his hand at the sight and proximity of your face.

"Open up, sweetheart. Let me feel you wrapped around me."

You complied without another word from Matt, opening your mouth wide to accommodate his thick head. Your lips stretched around his girth and the sweet, musky scent of him filled your nostrils.

Chris’s fingers dug into your hips, enough to leave marks, as he picked up pace. His hips slapped against your ass with loud smacks and the wet squelches of his hefty length plowing in and out of you filled the room alongside the creaking of the bed and your muffled moans.

Matt’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes closing in pleasure as you began to move your lips along his shaft, taking him deep enough for the tip to repeatedly hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes watered from the pleasure Chris was giving you and the feeling of Matt’s cock stuffing your mouth full. Your moans vibrated around Matt’s length—causing him to throw his head back in pleasure—as Chris fucked you harder and faster.

"Fuuuck-- take it... Take us both like the good fucking girl you are."

Matt’s breathless, husky voice calling you a good girl had you clenching hard around Chris, making the brunette groan behind you. His hand came down on your ass, the sudden sharp sting causing you to jolt forward and take more of Matt, resulting in you gagging.

A taunting chuckle came from behind you. "Look at you gagging on his dick like a whore."

The difference between Matt’s sweet praises and Chris’s degrading words had your head spinning. Your stomach muscles contracted, thighs trembling and body shuddering, as the coils in your abdomen drew tighter with each snap of Chris’s hips.

"Close?" Chris taunted, feeling your pussy flutter around his pistoning length. "God... you’ve such a greedy fucking pussy." He let out a breathy chuckle. "Look at her wrapped around me all snug and tight like she don’t want me out."

Matt groaned lowly, his hips beginning to move. He ground his pelvis against your face each time, shoving his cock down your throat, making sure you feel every thick inch of him.

You choked and gagged, getting used as if you were his own personal fleshlight. All while Chris was fucking you so hard you were being jolted forward repeatedly. Each time Chris’s hips connected with your ass, you deep throated Matt.

This was not how you thought they would "make it up" to you.

Your whole body jolted when you felt Chris’s fingers rub your clit in quick circles, making you moan loudly around Matt’s shaft. The vibrations were fucking exquisite. Enough to have Matt biting his lips to keep himself from moaning loudly in pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you felt your body unravel and pleasure shot through you, making your pussy clench and unclench rhythmically around Chris.

Heavy breathing filled the room. The earlier creaking of the bed and noises of pleasure were replaced with sounds of exhaustion and exertion.

You were all sprawled on the bed, completely drained after who knows how many rounds. Hell, the sky was already beginning to turn a few shades lighter.

Panting softly, Chris wrapped an arm around your middle, spooning you from behind. "We should do that again." Chris murmured softly.

"That line is giving me flashbacks I don’t wanna have." Matt mumbled, his arm covering his eyes as his chest heaved with deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

Chris burst out laughing, burying his face in your nape as he giggled. "Matt, shut uup..."

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆.ᐟ | 𝒘𝒄 – 𝟐.𝟐 𝒌 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ Chat, I guess I’m back...? I dunno if I am. See, I had to add that line. Also, it’s been sooo long since I wrote a chratt fic I almost forgot how to write a threesome. (I feel like I lowkey failed but it’s whatever). And I also cut the smut short ’cause I was starting to get laaazy.

Anyway, the amount of different fic layouts I have is overwhelming me but yeah... I can’t part with any of them.

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beaviu · 3 days ago

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wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 003 :: mr basic

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

As yn stepped into the café, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, immediately grounding her in the cozy atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw a guy who could potentially be her future boyfriend, sitting down alone cap on and head down on his phone

Approaching the table, she noticed the empty seat across from him.

“Hey, Intak, right?” she asked with a shy smile.

Jake looked up from his phone, his cap blocking his view and the top half of his face “i think you—“ but before he could finish, the barista’s voice cut in, calling out his order number.

“Oh, you already ordered?” yn said, a little flustered. “Was I that late? I'm so sorry.”

Jake stood up, waving off her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just grab it real quick.”

As he walked toward the pickup counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at the girl now settling into the seat across from where he'd been. Something about her—maybe the way she looked around with quiet curiosity or the slight smile still on her lips—made him suddenly okay with this unexpected meetup.

Walking back with his drink in hand, Jake spots yn sitting at the table, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sits down, “everything alright?”

yn glances up, her expression shifting quickly into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry—my friends are being annoying as usual”

Jake chuckles, lifting his cup. “i understand that”

yn nods silently then asks “what’d you order?”

“oh an iced americano”

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Wow. Basic.”

jake gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Basic?! Excuse you, this is the superior drink. Sophisticated. Timeless.”

yn laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, Mr. Basic, whatever you say.”

Jake grins, watching her for a moment before saying, more softly, “You know… you have a really pretty smile.”

Her laughter slowly fades as her cheeks flush with color, and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I—” Jake quickly leans back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. That was too sudden, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she blurts, voice higher than intended. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward—just warm. Comfortable.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes still on her and breaks the silence. “So... you gonna tell me your not-so-basic order, or is it a top-secret recipe?”

“I don’t know…do you really deserve to know?” yn teases, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Jake raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Wow, fine,” he sighs dramatically.

yn chuckles, then stands up. “Let me order it first, and then I’ll show you a visual representation,” she says, flashing him a smile before heading over to the counter.

The café’s quieter now, so she waits for a few minutes, picks up her order, and walks back to Jake. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says, an exaggerated pout on her face. Then, with a proud grin, she holds up her matcha latte like she’s unveiling a trophy. “But look at my glorious baby!”

Jake eyes the drink, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll admit, it does look pretty good.”

yn laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she offers him a sip. “Wanna try it? I promise you, it’s the drink of champions.”

Jake grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My iced Americano is superior.”

yn gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “No way! My drink outshines yours in every way!”

Jake rolls his eyes with a playful grin, then decides to switch things up. “Alright, random question. What’s your favorite color?”

yn chuckles, clearly amused. “Navy blue, I guess?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a teasing smile. “Hmm, navy blue. Interesting... You’re a uni student, right?”

yns expression shifts, slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I am. Why? You’re not gonna sell my info on the dark web, are you? I’m starting to get worried now.”

“oh cmon i would never do that to you” jake says batting his eyes playfully. yn rolls her eyes playfully “please you just met me”

After about 20 minutes of easy conversation, filled with lighthearted jokes and shared interests, yns phone suddenly starts buzzing incessantly. Jake glances at it, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "I think you might want to check that? Seems like it’s blowing up."

YN lets out a sigh, a bit embarrassed, and smiles sheepishly. "I’m so sorry, I have no idea why they’re all blowing up my phone. One second let me hop into the ladies room!" she rushes to the bathroom and opens her phone to see a spam of messages from the gc all spamming her name.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — hehehhehe nd the plot thickens! sorry for the shitty writing I’m still kinda rusty it’s been awhile 💔

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee

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suniix · 16 hours ago

Text

mission accomplished | bucky x agent! reader

synopsis | when a mission goes awry secrets are revealed, some more awkward than others

word count | 4.2k

warnings | mentions of blood + injury, light violence

note | this is me trying to get back into writing. it’s also my first time writing for bucky i hope it’s good 💔 also also, i haven’t watched anything after endgame so bear with me (im catching up i swear) i mostly wrote this at 4 am so forgive any errors 🙂‍↕️

The only reason you accepted this task was because during the mission briefing it seemed like a quick and easy job.

It totally didn’t have anything to do with the super soldier currently sitting across from you.

“Alright you two,” Sam called out and you felt the jet begin its descent. “Stick to the plan and we’ll meet at the extraction point.”

Right, the plan.

When Natasha first approached you for the job you were speed walking to a mission briefing you were almost late to. You found it a bit odd considering you almost never go out for missions. You weren’t exactly a field agent, only being called on for low stakes undercover tasks since you were an unfamiliar face or subbing in for those that couldn’t. Otherwise, you just worked behind computers.

“It’s simple; you get in, grab the files, get out.”

You rolled your eyes before looking down at the file she handed you. “It’s never that simple Nat, you know that. Besides, I have things to catch up on here.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong for thinking that. Based on the brief glances you gave the file it was essentially retrieving information in an abandoned hydra facility. If everything went according to plan, which almost never happened, you’d be back that same day.

The meeting room came into view and you handed her back the file. She accepted it with her usual smirk, that kind of smirk that meant she knows more than she’s letting on and made your stomach twist in anticipation for what she had planned.

Before opening the door she paused. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”

You didn’t respond, casting her a nervous look as you debated skipping the whole meeting. She chuckled before opening the door, letting you enter before she followed you in.

Safe to say, you changed your mind once you realized who else was assigned to the mission.

“Hey,” Bucky called out from across from you. He was already out of his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I just zoned out for a bit..” You quickly undid your seatbelt and started grabbing your things while simultaneously trying to ignore the embarrassment warming your ears. Regret settled in your chest— there was no way you’d be able to get through this mission undistracted, not while Bucky was here.

You heard Sam laugh from somewhere in the front. “Eyes on the prize people, can’t afford any distractions.”

He was right. You had to focus on the mission.

You felt the jet settle and begin to hover before a side door automatically opened. You glanced over and despite the darkness you noticed the area was different from what was shown in the mission briefing.

“I thought the drop off point was closer?” You yelled, hoping Sam heard you over the harsh winds.

“I looped around but didn’t see a clear landing spot, this is as close as I can get. You two are going to have to jump.” Sam yelled back.

You heard Bucky curse from beside you and you couldn’t help but let out an irritated sigh.

Great start to the mission.

You peered out the door to take a look at the drop. It wasn’t too bad— for a super soldier. There’s no way you’d be able to land safely, not without taking a few branches to the face on your way down and possibly breaking a bone or two. It was too high to jump regularly and too low for a parachute. You looked around, hoping to find a rope to throw over before Bucky suddenly jumped out without warning.

He landed silently with the skill only a trained soldier would have before gesturing you to follow, holding out his hands. You could faintly make out the words I’ll catch you and you swore your heart jumped out the plane without you.

There was no time to argue—the more time Sam spent hovering in the air the more likely it was that you would draw attention, regardless if the area was abandoned or not.

Trusting his words you jumped, feeling the harsh cold bite from the wind before it was quickly replaced with the warmth only another body could provide. He held you securely while you remained stiff as a board, still processing what you just did.

“Do you always jump out of planes without warning?” You tried to joke in an attempt to calm your racing heart. While your heart might’ve jumped out the moment bucky offered you his arms you were pretty sure your soul was still on the jet.

“Only when I need to.” He responds, gently setting you down and letting go when he’s sure you can stand on your own.

Your earpiece buzzed to life, catching the last bits of Sam’s laugh. “Alright, have fun you two. We’ll meet back in a few hours.”

With that Sam took off, leaving the two of you alone in the woods to walk the rest of the way.

Since joining to work with the Avengers one thing has been engraved into your mind.

Things never go as planned.

It should be obvious—plans change, especially in a field like this. You’ve learned how to adjust in order to accommodate those changes. Most of the time the information you receive before a mission is current, having been verified by multiple agents.

This was not one of those times.

Despite its run down appearance it turns out the facility was in fact not abandoned. You and Bucky quickly realized that once you began to get shot at.

“Fuck!—” You pulled back behind a wall as a bullet hit your side.

To your left across the hallway Bucky shot you a quick glance. Without saying anything he picked up a body that was nearby and used it as a shield against the bullets to cross the hallway and get to you.

“Shit, you okay?” He asked, waiting for the rain of bullets to end before he attempted to peek out and shoot back.

“Yeah totally.” You groaned, attempting to sit up but failing. Earlier, when you two were first noticed, you took a few hits while fighting. Later, your arm was grazed. You didn’t feel it at the moment but now the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and your eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. The blaring noise of the alarm wasn’t helping with the headache you were beginning to develop. You briefly remembered Sam’s words; had you been that distracted?

“Sam, do you copy?” Bucky asked, quickly attempting to shoot the assailants down the hall.

All you heard back was a jumbled mess of words followed by static.

“The walls must be messing with comms,” You groaned, handing him your gun when you noticed he was out of amo.

The stalemate continued for a few more seconds and you could tell Bucky was growing impatient. You two were outnumbered, Bucky would eventually run out of bullets and the agents would eventually close in. You instinctively ghost your hand over your blade to make sure it was still there—it was. There was no way you could fight and Bucky wouldn’t be able to defend both of you forever, but you’d sure as hell try.

Without warning Bucky slung your uninjured arm over his shoulder and began quickly dragging you down the hallway.

Left, right, left, right?—

The frequent turns he was taking only worsened your headache. You wanted to ask if he knew where he was going before he made a sharp turn and pushed past a door just as the footsteps approached. The two of you remained completely still, listening as the footsteps of the soldiers quickly passed by. Once the sound of footsteps disappeared you let out a sigh of relief and fully leaned against the wall before sliding down.

“Finally..” You breathed out, clutching your side. “I thought that only worked in movies..” You mumbled before shrugging off the outer layer of your outfit in order to look at the wound at your side and use it to absorb the blood.

“What?”

Before you got the chance to respond a whirring sound echoed from within the door followed by a harsh click. Bucky wiggled the door handle, but it refused to budge.

You immediately sit up in a panic. “Shit— they trapped us?”

Bucky shakes his head. “The whole building is on lockdown. They’re assuming we’re still looking for the exit and locked all doors to prevent us from leaving.” Bucky steps back while narrowing his eyes at the door. You could only assume he was debating whether or not to break it down.

“How are we going to get out? This place is a maze, completely different from the layout we were given..” You groaned, recalling the information they gave you. It’s clear whoever was running this place had made some upgrades.

Bucky looked over at you, eyes lingering on your bleeding side. “Our best bet is to stay put. The others will eventually realize something went wrong when we aren’t at the extraction point.”

A wave of guilt washes over you when you realize why. You put more pressure on your side, wishing the bleeding would stop entirely. “Eventually?..”

Bucky doesn’t respond, only crouches by your side before gently wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Let me take a look.”

You hesitantly allow him to remove your hand. He’s close, closer than he’d normally allow himself to be around anyone. He stares at your side for a moment longer, an unrecognizable emotion swirling around his blue eyes before he firmly places your hand back.

You know the wound is slightly deeper than the one you received on your arm, but nothing you couldn’t recover from. Still, it didn’t help the fact that it hurt like hell.

“So, how bad is it doc? Am I going to live?” You chuckle before wincing at the motion.

Bucky keeps his hand over yours. “You’ll be fine, just keep putting pressure.”

You nod and he slowly slips his hand away. You momentarily mourn the loss before he sits down next to you, keeping himself between you and the door. The distance is short, still close enough for your knees to brush if anyone moved, close enough to smell whatever cologne or shampoo he used.

“I need a coffee after this..” You mumble, attempting to sit up now that you were beginning to feel an ache in your lower back.

Bucky raised a brow. “A coffee?”

You nod. “Yeah, I always drink one in the morning, but not today.”

“Why not?”

“I was running late.” You breathed out a laugh, remembering your first encounter with the super soldier.

The first time you met him was early in the morning. You were running late for a meeting, because there was no way you would be able to get through the day without your coffee, and quickly turned a corner when you suddenly crashed into someone.

Your coffee spilled all over your clothes.

“What the!—” You immediately stopped once you noticed who you crashed into.

Sergeant James Barnes, or rather, Bucky as most people called him.

His mouth was moving, likely apologizing, but nothing was registering in your head. His eyes were furrowed and apologetic, his hair pulled back, and his skin shiny like he just came back from a workout.

Being this close to him, you realized he smelled surprisingly good.

Your gaze shifted behind him when you noticed a clock hanging on the wall, its ticking taunting you.

“No no, it’s fine! It’s just.. I gotta go!” You quickly rushed off once you remembered where you were headed.

Even though you went the whole day smelling like coffee you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

Running late was starting to become a bad habit, you noticed.

“You think there’s a chance they’ll figure out something went wrong before our pickup time?” You ask, gazing aimlessly at the ceiling.

Bucky shrugged. “If we’re lucky then they’ll already have figured it out.”

The silence that ensued wasn’t awkward, if it was you were too tired to notice. You looked around the room for the first time since you entered and noticed it looked completely unused. The room itself smelled stale and filing cabinets lined the walls with a few drawers left halfway pulled out. Whoever was here last left in a rush—you wonder how long ago that was.

Long enough for the layout to be completely changed. You hope you’ll remember to reprimand whoever was in charge of verifying the accuracy of the mission details.

However long ago that was, it was likely that they expected people to come looking for this place, but they probably never thought two agents would be stuck here waiting for help. You snuck a glance at Bucky. He’s still facing the door, jaw clenched, every part of him coiled like a spring—ready, waiting for something to pass through. It’s clear he’s thinking about something, you wonder if you’ll ever get to know what’s inside his head.

Bucky was only used for very specific missions, and in those cases he was usually accompanied by Steve, Nat, or even Sam. Someone the higher ups knew would be able to ‘handle’ him in case things went south, though they never have (and never will). With missions that required more agents you joined in, but those didn’t happen often. Even when they did, your interactions with the super soldier were limited. It’s not exactly the best idea to talk about mundane things while it’s raining bullets. The only other times you ran into him was during the briefings before a mission or randomly in the tower, and you savored every second. This was one of the few times he was sent out with someone apart from his usual trio and the only time he was sent out with you alone.

Maybe even the last given how messy the situation became.

You don’t know when you zone back into the moment, only becoming aware of it when you realize the alarm has stopped blaring beyond the door. A good sign, maybe they stopped looking for you two. Or maybe they’ve realized where you two are hiding and are on their way to ensure no one makes it out.

At some point Bucky reached over and placed his hand over yours, helping you apply more pressure on your wound. You hadn’t noticed you stopped.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve handled them faster.”

You snap your head in Bucky’s direction. “What? No, it’s not your fault.”

Bucky shakes his head, meeting your eyes for what feels like the first time this whole mission. “It is, the first time you got hit I reacted too slow. And now you’re—” He cuts himself off and looks away, clenching his hands.

You shift uncomfortably against the wall, the sting in your side a dull throb now. You’ve lost a decent amount of blood, you think, just enough for it to be worrisome. Maybe it’s the blood loss, but something you’ve been keeping unsaid is on the tip of your tongue.

Would now be a good time to say it? What would you even say?

There’s never a good time, you realize. Between your desk job, the missions, your rare run-ins with each other— this might be the only time you’re alone with him.

The two of you sit there against the wall with unspoken thoughts until you both decide to speak up.

“I like how you smell.”

“I think you’re afraid of me.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Bucky turns his head, brows raised, clearly just as thrown off as you. “Did you just say—?”

The door flew across the room, startling the both of you. Immediately Bucky was on his feet, your gun in his hand, aimed and ready to fire. When the dust settled a figure stepped through the door frame carrying a familiar red white and blue shield.

“It’s Captain America.” You happily cheered, only realizing how loopy you felt after hearing your own voice.

Nat emerged from behind him, rushing to your side. At that moment a wave of sleep hit you, making it harder for you to keep your eyelids open.

What happened after was mainly a blur. You vaguely remember being escorted out of the building and onto the jet. You knocked out on the ride back, briefly waking up when you were being wheeled out. In that small moment you were awake you noticed Bucky talking to Steve, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before he looked away.

You couldn’t forget how sad he looked or the blood that stained his hands, even as your consciousness faded.

You wondered if it was still possible to blame what you said on the blood loss.

Once you woke up, Dr. Cho informed you about what happened. Turns out you were lucky Nat and Steve got there when they did and even luckier that Dr. Cho was there when you were wheeled in, otherwise things would’ve gotten complicated. When you were shot the bullet passed all the way through, meaning you got to skip surgery and head straight into the regeneration cradle.

You healed during the night and were free to leave in the early morning.

Once out of the lab you headed straight to the kitchen, desperate for the coffee you’ve been craving since yesterday. The kitchen is empty, understandably so given the sun is barely peeking past the horizon. It’s the perfect scene for you to reflect on why of all things you had to say ‘I like how you smell’.

While the journey back to the tower remained a blur, what you revealed in that building was clear as day in your mind. The embarrassing secret you revealed followed by Bucky’s heart shattering confession.

You slammed a cup onto the counter.

You kept your hands busy, preparing your coffee, hoping it would distract you from feeling your heart crack. There was no way you would let the conversation end like that. You knew Bucky was never one to talk about his feelings and he likely wouldn’t open up again, but you refused to let the opportunity pass. You had to know why he felt that way and correct him. You had to let him know he was wrong, that there was no universe where you could fear him.

You grabbed your cup of coffee and began heading to your room. Once you were done you would head over to Bucky’s room and—

The sudden collision with something, or rather someone, sent you a few steps back, causing you to spill your coffee all over your clothes.

“I am so—Bucky?”

You pause once you notice who you crashed into and can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vú.

Bucky looks shocked to see you. His eyes immediately look to your side in an almost paranoid manner. “What are you doing up?” He asks.

“I just got out of the lab. I came to get my coffee, but..” You looked down at your coffee soaked clothes.

Bucky winced. “Sorry..”

He rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing some paper towels and passing some to you before helping you clean up the spilled coffee on the floor. As you patted yourself dry you figured now was as good a time as ever. “So, what are you doing up this early?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words before continuing to soak up the mess. “Couldn’t sleep. Tried to let out some energy at the gym.”

Your mouth moved faster than you could think. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, continuing to clean an invisible spot on the floor. He refused to make eye contact. You had a feeling you already knew the answer.

It’s no secret Bucky struggles with nightmares. You heard the screaming before Tony soundproofed every room. You also knew about the mandatory therapy sessions and how every time he came back from a rough mission the lights in his room stayed on just a bit longer, like he was trying to keep something at bay. You knew the mess of the last mission likely didn’t help ease his conscience.

“What happened back there wasn’t your fault you know.” You mumbled, but you know he heard you when he stopped wiping the floor. “I.. I should be the one apologizing.”

That caught his attention. He opened his mouth to respond but you quickly cut him off. “I wasn’t focused, I let my personal feelings distract me. And—” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I did to make you believe that I’m afraid of you, but I promise that’s the furthest thing I feel when I’m with you.”

“Most people are afraid of me, what I’ve done.” He whispered, but in that empty kitchen you felt like it echoed against every wall.

“I’m not most people. Bucky,” You crouch beside him. “You have been nothing but kind to me, to everyone. You think your past defines you, but I’ve seen who you are now. You’re always looking out for others and taking the hit just so we can make it out unharmed. You’re different now.”

You hesitantly reach out, gently placing your hand over his when he doesn’t pull away. “You carry all this pain like it's your punishment, like saving people and sacrificing yourself is the price you pay for what happened back then, but you don't owe anyone your suffering, Bucky. You deserve more, so much more."

Bucky doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw clenches, eyes fixed on a crack in the floor like it might split open and hopefully swallow him whole. You can practically feel the war happening behind his blue eyes—old guilt clawing at the edges because of what you just said.

Finally, he exhales through his nose. “Different doesn’t mean good.”

“It does to me.”

He huffs. “Every time we meet it’s like you can’t get away from me fast enough.”

“That!—” You feel your ears burn in embarrassment. He’s interpreted your skittish behavior around him as fear. “—is for a different reason..”

He looks at you unamused.

“Oh come on..” You groan. “I already embarrassed myself back at the building, don’t make me repeat it..”

When he refuses to answer you can only sigh.

“It’s not that I’m afraid of you, I just don’t know how to act around you without making a fool of myself. As you can clearly see,” You point down at your now coffee stained clothes. “If anything I’m afraid of how I feel about you, because I like you, but I don’t want to ruin what we have or pressure you into anything by saying it!”

The silence is deafening. You feel as though the room is on fire as embarrassment continues to course through your body. You contemplate leaving, slowly beginning to stand when Bucky responds.

“And if I said I was afraid of the same thing?”

You freeze.

“I thought you hated me and that made me hate myself even more.” He continued. “With everything I’ve done I thought there’s no way I’d be able to change your mind, to show you I’m.. different now. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

He stood up, throwing the coffee soaked paper towels into the trash. “You never got your coffee, did you?”

“At this point I think it’s a sign that maybe I should stop drinking so much.” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

“So if I asked you out for coffee, you’d say no?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you’re nearly convinced he heard it when you see a hint of a smile on his face. “I never said that..” You mumbled, fiddling with the paper towel still in your hand.

He called your name and you couldn’t resist meeting his gaze. His eyes bore into yours as he hesitantly approached you. “Are you free later? I think I know a place that sells good coffee. I owe you at least one after, well, everything.”

You quickly nodded your head. “Yeah yeah, today’s good, I just gotta..” You look down at your outfit. It’s the same one you wore on the mission—covered in blood, sweat, and now coffee. “.. shower.”

Bucky quickly nodded. “Me too, I’ll uh.. pick you up at three?”

“Ok,” You laughed, waving at him while walking towards the hall. “See you later.”

Once you turned the corner you nearly let out a squeal, causing you to almost crash into Nat, who wore a suspicious smile on her face. “Nat! You scared me, what’re you doing here?” You place your hand over your heart, hoping it’d slow down. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.

“I had a feeling you’d be here, I thought you’d be alone though.” She snuck a glance behind you, clearing having caught you and Bucky together. You try to ignore her by walking away, but she’s quick to catch up. As you two walked further away from the kitchen she bumped her hip with yours.

“So.. besides getting shot and nearly bleeding out, how’d the mission go?” Nat asked.

You took a moment to think of an answer. You were shot, nearly bled to death in a hydra closet, and you revealed to your hallway crush that you liked how he smelled while he was attempting to have a emotional conversation with you.

“I’m so glad I took that mission.”

thank you for reading till the end! reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

masterlist

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes x reader #[📝 sunni writes]

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