#now I'm in the office to work and not to spend time with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helaintoloki · 4 months ago

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Hello and good evening,

I saw you opened requests so I'm dropping by!

What about an infinity stone mishap that has multiple Bucky variants be at the compound at the same time. (Let's just have Winter Soldier be not entirely murderous for the sake of Tony's heart) and literally no one can seem to keep some apart except Steve and reader, who goes off on a rant about all the teeny tiny, to her very obvious details that differ between the Bucky's and accidentally in doing so admits she has a huge crush on him/them??

I hope that made sense omg

And as always, only if it speaks to you and you're up for it! ♡♡

a/n: hi hon, ty for sending this in! i’ll admit this was a bit challenging to tackle but still fun! hope you don’t mind that i changed a few details in the process <3

warnings: light angst, lots of pining, fluff

summary: a multiversal mishap leaves the compound teeming with Bucky variants, and Steve entrusts you with helping him figure out which one is the real deal

“I think I had a nightmare like this once,” Sam shudders as the two of you survey the plethora of Bucky’s taking up space in the compound. A multiversal mishap had led to an overflow of variants into the compound, and now your team found themselves working vigorously to determine which Bucky was your own and which ones needed to be sent back to their proper dimension.

Getting rid of the Winter Soldiers had been the easiest, the red stars on their arms giving away their identities and also giving Tony a heart attack in the process. You could tell apart the Bucky’s with hair that was too long or too short, the one’s that had brown or green eyes instead of blue, and the ones that went by Jane instead of James. The real work, however, came when there was only a handful of variants left that looked identical to your own Bucky.

“We can’t take any chances,” Steve says after having approached you and Sam. “All of these men are going to insist they’re our version of Bucky, and we can’t risk sending back the wrong one. I’m really going to need your help on this, y/n.”

“Why me?” You retort with furrowed brows, nervously peeking your head out of the office to observe the variants that sit restless in the common room.

“Out of everyone here, you and I know Bucky best,” the blond states truthfully. “I think if we work together we have a better shot at cleaning up this whole mess. The sooner the better.”

“You got that right,” Sam scoffs, prompting you to roll your eyes in response.

You couldn’t exactly deny the truth in Steve’s words. Other than Captain America himself, Bucky considered you to be one of his closest friends. Your kindhearted nature made it easy for him to gravitate towards you when first joining the team, and after saving each other’s asses on multiple occasions, he knew you were someone he could entrust with his life. You tore down his walls with ease, you brought out the best in him, and he’d forever be indebted to you for your friendship.

You decide with Steve that the best course of action is to spend one-on-one time with each Bucky you cross paths with to detect any abnormalities in their behavior. The Captain makes it abundantly clear that you cannot let them cloud your judgement with pleasantries, and it’s pertinent you trust your gut with each decision you make. The pressure is on, and you feel the nerves settling in your gut as you approach the Bucky that has made himself at home in the communal kitchen.

“Hey, stranger,” you call gently, a pleasant smile on your face as you seat yourself at the island counter. You note with interest how the man visibly relaxes at your presence and sets aside the pot of tea he’d just finished brewing. His eyes are bright like your Bucky’s, full of adoration and relief when he sets them upon your face.

“Y/n,” he breathes out gently before coming to meet you at the counter, “you have no idea how glad I am to see you, doll.”

“Rough day?” You prompt understandingly.

“Where do I even begin? Being around so many versions of myself is more unsettling than I ever could have imagined.”

“Well, Steve and I are doing our best to fix that,” you assure him. You watch as the man turns back to his pot of tea and begins to pour you both a cup. There’s nothing unusual about this considering your Bucky also enjoys drinking tea; it helps him keep calm and relaxed before retiring for the night.

“How many are left?” He asks before handing you your mug.

“Around ten. Steve and I are making our rounds to figure out which Bucky is ours.”

“Am I your Bucky?” The man prompts with a raised brow while taking a careful drink from his cup.

“You tell me,” you reply with a faint smile, ignoring the way your heart begins to flutter when he refers to himself as ‘your Bucky.’

“I know you have a scar on your stomach from being stabbed by another Widow in the Red Room, and the reason I know that is because I accidentally walked in on you changing in the shower room once,” Bucky admits with a sheepish laugh, prompting your face to heat with embarrassment.

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan while hiding your face in your hands. It’s not exactly comforting to know that Bucky has accidentally seen you naked in at least two different universes, but it also doesn’t make it easier to determine if this man is an imposter.

“I know you like your tea with a tablespoon of honey,” he continues before gesturing to your cup. You hum thoughtfully and set the mug down before meeting his gaze.

“I do, and I know you only like chamomile tea,” you reply, prompting Bucky to stiffen in front of you as you look down at the mug in front of you. “But this is green tea.”

Sighing, the doppelgänger sets his cup down with a defeated frown before meeting your gaze with pleading eyes. “Don’t make me go back.”

“I’m sorry, but it has to be done. We can’t risk the effects that come with having two Bucky’s in one place.”

“Then can I ask you a favor?” The man says solemnly.

“Of course.”

“Before you send me back, can I… is it okay if I hug you?” He asks, catching you by surprise. Noting the confusion on your face, Bucky gives you a dejected smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before explaining, “We don’t talk anymore in my universe. I was an idiot, and you rightfully cut me out of your life. This is the first time in years you’ve looked at me with love and not utter disgust, and I just want to enjoy it a little longer before I have to leave.”

Your heart aches for this poor Bucky who very clearly misses you, or at least his version of you, so you can’t find it in yourself to deny his request. You wordlessly rise from your seat and allow him to wrap his arms around your frame. His hold is tight, his nose brushing against your neck as he savors the feel of your touch, and you feel terrible for the fact that there isn’t anything you can do to help him.

“I’m not sure what happened between the two of you,” you utter quietly while rubbing comforting circles into his back, “but if she’s anything like me, I know she probably misses you but is too stubborn to admit it. Don’t give up on her.”

You release him with a smile and find his eyes shining with tears as he lets your words settle. You bid him a final goodbye before escorting him to Tony and Bruce so that he can be properly transferred back to his own time. That’s only one Bucky down with several more to go, and you know now that you really have your work cut out for you. This is going to be much more difficult than you anticipated.

You stumble upon the next Bucky quietly ruminating in your room, and it takes him a moment to detect your presence as you lean against the doorway and simply observe his mannerisms. You can already tell this isn’t your Bucky by the way he anxiously taps his fingers against his knees; your Bucky’s tell is the anxious bouncing of his leg. This Bucky also wears his hair pulled back into a ponytail, whereas your Bucky prefers to tie his hair back into in a half-up style.

His eyes widen in shock when he finally notices you standing there, and you’re taken aback by the way he nearly flings himself at you. His strong arms wrap around your midsection and lift you off the ground, holding you impossibly tight against him as if you’ll disappear otherwise.

“жена,” he whispers in a trembling voice while combing a hand through your hair.

“I don’t speak Russian…” you voice with an uncomfortable laugh, struggling to take a breath due to how tightly you’re pressed against him. “Buck, you’re kind of suffocating me here.”

The man finally releases you after your admission, but his hands immediately find their way to your cheeks as he cups your face and rests his forehead against your own. You’re startled by the closeness, but there’s no denying the rapid beating of your heart when you stare into his troubled eyes. You’ve had daydreams like this before, but it’s jarring to experience it in person.

“When I arrived here and came across your room I thought it was too good to be true,” he utters shakily, “but you’re here. You’re alive.”

“Bucky, I-“

“You’ve come back to me, жена.”

“жена?” You repeat unsurely. His panicked features melt into a fond smile at the sound of your botched Russian, and he carefully pushes back your hair before gifting you a nod of confirmation.

“Wife.”

Your eyes widen at his proclamation, your heart dropping to your chest while you process the weight of his words and struggle with the turmoil inside of you. You thought dealing with the Bucky from the kitchen was difficult, but this is way out of your playing field.

“Oh god,” you breathe out before carefully removing his hands from your face. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know this is all really confusing, but I’m not…” you start to say, grappling with your guilt at having to crush the man’s hopes of being reunited with his version of you, “I’m not your wife.”

The man’s features become sullen at your confession, brows furrowing in disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean? You aren’t y/n?”

“I am, but I’m just not the same y/n you know. This is a different dimension, and you were sent here by accident.”

“So you’re not… she’s not really alive, then,” he murmurs dejectedly, eyes casting towards the floor in despair.

“No, and I’m so sorry I’m not the one you’re looking for,” you console, resting a comforting hand on his bicep. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut at the feel of your touch, something he’d been lacking since your death. You aren’t his wife, but in spite of that, he is grateful to be able to speak to you and see your face once more. “Can I ask what happened to her?”

“Hydra wanted revenge for my desertion and for aiding Captain America in their destruction,” Bucky utters lowly, eyes hardening at the memory. “An eye for an eye. She paid the price for my mistakes, and I’ve spent every waking moment avenging her death.”

A chill runs through your spine as you hear the recounting of your counterpart’s death, but you do your best to remain composed while in the presence of this alternate version Bucky. Your heart aches for the man, and you once again find yourself completely useless at trying to help him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you express solemnly. Despite this, Bucky looks to you with a tender smile before carefully taking your hand in his own.

“Don’t be. I know you’re not her, but seeing you again, hearing your voice- It’s the most precious gift I could ask for. Thank you for giving me some semblance of peace.”

You’re a wreck when this Bucky is returned to his own timeline, and after multiple instances of running into Bucky’s who believe you’re their y/n Steve assures you that he’ll take over moving forward. It seems that each Bucky you speak to cares so fondly for you, they adore you even, and yet in this universe you’ve been designated as a close friend and nothing more. It’s killing you to see all the ‘what if’s,’ because deep inside you know that you’ll never be with your Bucky the way you want to.

You’re not sure when your crush on the super soldier had first developed, but you know that you’ve harbored these romantic feelings for him for quite a while now. You’ve never told anyone, though you can guess Steve was smart enough to figure it out on his own, and you have no urge to act on such feelings in fear of how complicated things will become if he doesn’t reciprocate your emotions.

Your rumination leaves you in deep thought as you sit out on the balcony and enjoy some quiet after all the chaos you’ve endured. You hear the sliding door open and shut behind you, but you make no attempt to see who it is until they seat themselves beside you. You peek at Bucky from the corner of your eyes before returning your gaze to the New York skyline, simply enjoying his presence without making an effort to speak.

“You doing okay?” He asks, effectively breaking the silence between you.

“I didn’t think being around multiple versions of you would be so exhausting,” you confess with a humorless laugh, but it prompts his lips to quirk up slightly into a smile.

“You’re starting to sound like Sam,” he teases with a careful nudge to your side. While you’d normally laugh at his jokes, Bucky doesn’t even get a smile out of you. You feel him shift closer to you and hope he can’t detect the way your heart picks up a beat in response. He nudges you again softer this time and asks, “Talk to me. What’s eating you?”

“Every Bucky variant I met today looked at me like I moved heaven and earth together, like I was their reason for getting up in the morning, and I guess it just reminded me of the fact that my own Bucky doesn’t really look at me that way.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and let your chin fall on top of them with a melancholic sigh. A part of you feels embarrassed to be voicing your disappointment aloud, but you figure there’s no harm in telling a variant since you’ll never have to see them again after today.

“Do you want him to look at you that way?”

“Of course I do,” you avow incredulously like the answer isn’t already obvious. “I love him so much that Steve trusted my judgement enough to have me help him sniff out the doppelgängers. I know how he likes his tea, how he does his hair, what his favorite movie is- the list could go on forever. But of course, I live in the one universe where Bucky and I don’t end up together.”

You feel his hand come to rest on the small of your back and shudder at the feel of his cool metal hand seeping through your sweater. You can’t help but to lean against him so that your head is rested on his shoulder, and you’re able to find some comfort in his presence. You hear him let out a thoughtful hum beside you.

“You want to know something?” Bucky pronounces. He feels your head nod against him and smiles. “I know the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

The confession has you lifting your head to peer up at him questioningly. “You do?”

“Of course I do. We were on a mission, and you picked up Steve’s shield to stop a bullet from hitting me straight on before using it to knock out three bad guys in a row. You looked so strong, so beautiful. My heart was yours from then on.”

“I didn’t think you remembered that,” you confess quietly, stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since,” he asserts with a fond smile. “Any Bucky would be lucky to have you, and I’m sorry yours has been too chicken to make a move.”

“I guess it’s not totally his fault,” you relent with a meager shrug. “I’m chicken, too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Bucky suggests, tone light and inviting. “I know I’m not the most obvious about it, but I love you too.”

You open your mouth to answer only to be interrupted by the sound of the sliding door again. You turn to see Steve standing there, surprise on his features when he sees you two sitting on the balcony together.

“Y/n, I’ve been looking for you,” he says suddenly. “I wanted to talk to you about the variants-“

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt him with a passive wave of your hand before gesturing towards Bucky with your head. “I found another one for you. This Bucky just told me he loves me which means he’s definitely not ours.”

“Actually,” Steve says with an amused grin, “I was just coming to tell you we sent the last of them back to their own dimensions.”

“What?” You gape in shock, heart immediately dropping to your stomach as you slowly shift your gaze towards the Bucky sitting next to you. He flashes you a bashful smile and a small wave that fills you with embarrassment.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” the blond says with a knowing smile before making his exit, leaving you alone once more with the man you’d just poured your entire heart out to.

“I thought you knew,” Bucky offers apologetically. You take a nervous swallow before forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

“So you’re saying that you do love me?” You ask hesitantly, almost afraid that this is all some sort of joke.

“I may not be as romantic or straightforward as the other Bucky’s you met, but I love you just as much as they do if not more,” he professes earnestly, gently resting a hand on your cheek to pull you closer. “I think we make a great team, but we’d make an even better couple.”

“I think so too,” you utter with a giddy smile, waiting with bated breath as Bucky slowly begins to lean in. The anticipation is killing you, but you’re finally rewarded for your patience when his lips meet your own in a tender kiss. Your lashes flutter shut as you melt into his touch, reveling in the moment you’ve dreamed of since discovering your feelings for Bucky.

No matter the timeline and no matter the universe, Bucky is destined to fall in love with his y/n. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#mel writes #request #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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spaceycat · 4 months ago

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MOREEEE CONGRESSMAN!BUCKY HEADCANONS !!!

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⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ... ╰┈➤ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ༄.°

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: sports car by tate mcrae (2:45)

guys why the fuck do i keep finding the filthy gifs anyways anways MOVING FOWARD!!

✰ whenever you two are fucking in his office, he lets you bite his tie or his dogtags to keep you quiet - it never works though.

✰ the kinda guy to use a remote-controlled vibrator on you during a congress meeting and using A LOT of innuendos in his speech and loves to watch you squirm, he knows you're going to yell at him later for it.

✰ He likes to spoil you, since he has problems showing his feelings though the whole hydra situation - so buying you clothes, jewlerry or anything that you even remotely look at makes him so happy.

✰ But one time you felt bad and didnt want to spend his money, telling him you didnt really like anything - he'd pass you his credit card, "okay listen, with how much you spend, the softer i'm gonna fuck you when we get home - okay? I might even eat you out if you're good." AND YOU RANNNNNNN YOU RANN TO PRADA !! he fulfilled his promise and you got a shit ton of clothes and food and hey - bucky got a meal too ig....

✰ You love to whisper filthy shit in his year at fundraiser and award events when you know he's about to go on stage to get an award or a speech LOL

✰ Whenever he's driving he has a hand on the inside of your thigh, lord and his car is EXPENSIVE... like doctor strange in his movie, lord minus the crashing part..

✰ He loves to fuck you in the backseat of his car, finger you while he's driving telling you to keep your eyes in front. One time you came back from a fundraiser, and you were stressed out with the whole planning thing and how it all went to shit - Bucky sighed, pulling off his tie and moving over to your side of the car, sinking down to his knees infront of you and ate you out while looking up at you LORD. HAVE. MERCY.

✰ You used to be shy, sweet and innocent before Bucky. Wearing lacy lingerie and underwear underneath your dresses for the sole purpose of knowing you're wearing them and that Bucky will find out, sending him pictures or videos when he's on meetings or away of you fingering yourself or riding a dildo and just saying that you wish it was his, and ALWAYS sneaking into his office to just get off and he fucking loves it.

✰ He takes you on every campaign, buys the best hotel rooms, with large baths, pools, spas, hot-tubs, with endless amounts of food and champagne at your beck and call. And buying you dresses for every campaign session and event.

✰ He loves to see how many times he can fuck you before you have to leave for your next flight or event, "C'mon baby, cum one more time and then you can go shake hands with the Government" (oh lord now i want to write a fic about this.

✰ Whenever you help him write his speeches, you sit in his lap on his desk chair - you're fine until he sits his head on your shoulder placing soft kisses to your neck as his fingers slip down your pants, toying with your clit "Keep working baby.." "I need more stimulating ideas."

✰ You two are filthy, and yet no one will know - soon being Mr President and his First Lady.. (reminds me of those pictures of prince harry and meghan markle when they partied hardy LOLLLL)

#headcanons #marvel headcanons #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes #marvel au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #x reader #smut #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #spaceycat

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r66dusthewriter · 18 days ago

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How well do Y/n Y/l/n & Drew Starkey know each other? | Variety

Paring: Drew Starkey x reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1k

You settled into the chair besides Drew, both of you holding up small whiteboards and markers, the familiar hum of set lights warming the space around you. He leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out, already grinning in anticipation.

“This could be the end of our friendship as we know it” you said, voice light but laced with mock dread.

Drew’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide in faux alarm. Then he burst into laughter, the sound spilling over into the crew, who chuckled from behind the cameras.

“What do you mean? We’ll be fine!” he insisted, shaking his head like you were being dramatic.

You glanced over at him, feigning concern. “We might not be”

“We will.” he said “I know where you live, that’s good enough for the general public.”

You laughed, the warmth of it hanging in the air between you as the interviewer’s voice called everyone to attention. “What year did you both first meet?”

Without hesitation, you both dropped your gazes to the whiteboard, the scratch of a marker against the surface filling the quiet moment. A beat later, you flipped them toward the camera in perfect sync.

2019

Matching answers and matching smiles. From the corner of your eye, you caught Drew turning his head just slightly toward you, the corners of his mouth tugged upward.

“Told you we’d be fine” Drew murmured under his breath, eyeing the matching year scrawled on your whiteboard.

You smiled, still looking at your board. “We met at the offices where, um…the Outerbanks producers were holding auditions–”

“Yeah, in North Carolina,” Drew added, nodding.

“Yeah” you said, glancing toward the camera as you explained. “I was going in for a chemistry read with Rudy…Rudy Pankow, who plays JJ on the show and you were there with Chase. So for a solid second I thought you’d be JJ. That same afternoon, we ended up doing a last-minute chemistry read”

“And here we are” he said, flashing a smile.

“Besties for life,” you added with a nod.

Drew’s eyes met yours, a quiet pause stretching just long enough to say something unspoken. “Besties?” His brow lifted slightly in that way he always did when he was about to argue but instead, the two of you broke into laughter for seemingly no apparent reason.

“Who’s most likely to stay in character when the cameras aren’t rolling?” the interviewer asked once the giggles faded.

You paused for a second, weighing your answer. Beside you, Drew was already scribbling on his whiteboard, a knowing smile creeping onto his face.

“I put you” he said, holding it up proudly “Just cause…you and your character are basically two sides of the same coin. You’re witty, you’ve got that sharp timing…plus you’re a smartass in real life too” he added with a laugh.

You flipped your board around at the same time, revealing your own name written across it.

Drew leaned back, triumphant. “See? Even you know it. The amount of times I've broken character just because I'm too stunned by the stuff you come up with–it’s wild, and I thought I'd be used to it by now” he said, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it.

You laughed “The problem is that we’re both shocked. I say something, you crack, then I crack because you cracked. It’s a vicious cycle”

Filming with someone who knew you inside and out was both a blessing and a challenge. Spending ten hours a day on set with your best friend meant constant laughter, stolen glances and inside jokes but it also meant holding back just enough to stay professional…or at least try to.

Drew gave you a sideways look, eyes gleaming “Yeah. Professionalism. Because we’ve always been so good at that”

You snorted, already shaking your head “We try”

The crew laughed behind the camera, clearly amused by this dynamic. The blend of effortless banter and the unmistakable kind of closeness that could only come from years of working and growing together.

“Who’s most likely to listen to music on set?” the interviewer asked, grinning as you and Drew immediately burst into giggles, already scribbling down your answers.

“Wait, we have to tell the story” Drew said, laughing before you even flipped your board.

At the same time, you both turned them around to reveal identical answers as you both burst into more giggles.

Both.

“Are you gonna tell it or–” you struggled saying as you laughed through teary eyes.

“No, no, no, you go.” Drew said, pointing at you through his laughter. “It was your trailer”

You shot back without missing a beat “And It was your speaker” you turned to the camera, trying to keep a straight face. “Anyway, having the same call time to set was a mistake.”

“A big one” Drew chimed in, leaning forward like he was letting the audience in on a secret.

“We were in my trailer, just waiting to be called to set” you began, already laughing at the memory. “And this one was way too excited about his new speaker… so we put on some music, just vibing, singing along…” You paused, trying to collect yourself “What we didn’t know was that his walkie was on.”

“Like, fully on. Broadcasting” Drew added.

“We sang through three whole songs,” you said, eyes wide. “And nobody came to stop us. Not one person. Fifteen minutes go by, we walk onto set and everyone just erupts. Laughing, clapping…we had no idea what was going on”

“It was awful” Drew groaned, covering his face.

“So embarrassing” you said, shaking your head. “Thank the stars we weren’t talking about something else”

Drew shot you a mischievous look, that familiar spark lighting up his face “Like that time–”

“Alrighty!” you cut in, sitting up straight and turning to the interviewer “Next question, please!”

The whole room broke into laughter, the crew chuckling behind the cameras, the interviewer nearly losing her place in the notes. As you both wiped down your whiteboard, Drew leaned in and nudged you with his elbow, voice low and laced with mock betrayal.

“I wasn’t gonna tell it, you know? I would never expose our ‘friendship’ like that”

You didn’t look up as you replied coolly “Expect an NDA in the next few days”

Drew snorted, nearly dropping his marker “Better make it retroactive”

#drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #obx fanfiction #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fluff #rafe cameron fluff

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vivwritesfics · 9 days ago

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Sugar, Sugar

Max accidentally becomes your sugar daddy. He doesn't mean to, you don't mean for him to. It just sort of happens.

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, sugar baby x sugar daddy dynamics (accidentally), oral

The Bag

He tightened his grip on you, fingers bruising your hips as he came inside of you. "Fuck," he choked out, slumping forward. His body rested over you as you tried to stop yourself from collapsing.

But Max wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. "You okay?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

When you nodded, he slipped out of you. "Yeah," you managed, settling yourself against the cushions. "Yeah, I'm okay." You needed to get into his shower, needed to clean yourself up.

As Max stood from the bed, he looked at you. You were obviously tired, worn out. Sweat clung to your skin and your hair was a mussed up mess.

He loved having you like this. He loved having you on his bed, worn out because of him. "I'll get the shower running," he mumbled and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

It was casual sex, nothing more. Neither of you were in the position for anything more than carnal desires.

But he had something for you. A present, something he had found just for you. All because you sent him a text, complaining about how your trusty work bag had broken.

He started the shower, held his hand under the steady stream of water as he waited for it to heat up. When it did, he called you into the bathroom.

You kissed his cheek as you walked past him. When you weren't having sex, it never went further than that. Just a passing kiss on the cheek, nothing more.

When you stepped beneath the water, Max left the room. He heard you humming to yourself as you scrubbed your skin and washed your hair. (Max knew how much more you preferred his shower. Every time you came to his apartment, after every time he had you on your back, knees, whatever, you used his shower. Took your sweet, sweet time and came out smelling like him).

You both had the option to sleep with other people. You could sleep with all of Monaco, if you so desired, and Max didn't have the right to get angry. Just like he could sleep with other people when away at Grand Prix.

But the both of you chose not to. You were each others only sexual partners, and that worked for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend the night in his bed. Each time, the two of you kept the entire bed between you. But, through the night, you migrated closer and closer, until you were touching.

You dried your hair as best you could and walked out of the bathroom. Still humming as you went, not paying attention to anything. Not paying attention to Max on the bed as you grabbed your hairbrush. "My mum is convinced we're dating," you mumbled as you brushed through your wet hair.

Max cleared his throat.

You were still talking when you tired towards him. But you stopped when you saw what was on the bed in front of him. "What's this?" You asked, your voice pitching slightly.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "You said your work bag was broken."

Your work bag was broken, he was right. As pretty, as expensive as the bag in front of him was, it wouldn't do as a replacement. Not big enough for all of the things you lugged to your office.

But you sat in front of him on the bed and took the bag from him. "It's gorgeous," you said, your eyes lighting up. Because you really did like it.

"It's for you."

You put the bag down as you looked at him. "Seriously, Max, thank you," you whispered and threw your arms around him.

There wasn't much better than the feeling of his large hands against your back.

The Instagram Likes

Your likes kept appearing on his Instagram feed. It was his fault for not following more people on his private account, for not filling his feed with things that weren't you.

But it was all you. Your posts. Your tags. Your likes. Things you wanted, things you had liked. Things that were now in his shopping cart or on its way to his apartment.

He was just being friendly, right? Because you were friends. At the end of the day, you were friends. You had been friends before you started sleeping together and you were still friends now. It wasn't weird he was buying you things.

At least, that was what Max kept telling himself.

He had it all stashed in his Monaco apartment, waiting for you to come over. But it had been a triple header and you had been busy during the week.

All the things Max had bought for you (clothes, bags, shoes, jewellery) were piling up in his apartment. It was becoming a little embarrassing.

After the triple header (which had at least one win for him), Max invited you over. Just for some casual sex, nothing more. He definitely didn't have good food and good drink in the fridge, and a good movie queued up on the television.

He hated that he missed you. But, the second you walked through the door, he was upon you. No words were exchanged as he pinned you to the door and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, hooked your leg around his waist.

"Fuck," he grunted. You grinned as you tugged at his hair. Your favourite sound in the world was his groans of 'fuck' while he was deep inside of you.

I missed you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them in his mouth. But he had missed you, every part of you. He just wanted you on your back, your thighs squeezing his head as he ate you out.

He dragged you away from the door. Dragged, but you went willingly. You were happy to let him pull you into his room, to undress you.

Your clothes were discarded on the floor as Max climbed on top of you. He pressed his hips against your as you whined and moaned. Max knew how to fuck like like nobody else. There was a reason you kept going back to him. He made you see stars.

"I got something for you," Max mumbled as you both laid there.

Turned on your side, your eyebrows rose at him. "You got something for me?" You echoed.

"A couple things."

He stood from the bed and walked over to the cupboard. Several bags fell out and Max picked them all up. He brought them over and dumped them in front of you. "Saw your likes on Instagram, thought I'd buy you some of the stuff."

Tipping the first bag upside down, a bracelet fell into your hands. "Fuck," you whispered as you let it dangle from between your fingers. It was simply gorgeous. "Thank you Max, seriously. You didn't have to do this."

"I didn't," he replied as he laid back beside you. "But I wanted to."

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The Car

It had been three days since your car last started. You'd called the garage, but there was no way for you to be able to afford the repairs.

You didn't tell Max with the aim of getting him to buy you a car. The thought didn't cross your mind. You were just ranting to a friend as you walked the distance to work instead of driving.

The next time you went to Max's house, you immediately went to kiss him. Frustration and anger welled up inside of you, and you just wanted some release. That release was supposed to be Max.

Instead of pinning you against the wall and snogging you, Max took your hands. "What're you doing?" You asked as he brought you over to the sofa.

"I know your car is busted, so I got you something," Max said. He pressed something into your palm and closed your fist around it.

You frowned at him and opened your fist.

"You didn't."

Max kept grinning as he looked at you. "I did," he said.

"I can't accept this from you."

"Yeah you can."

You opened your fist.

A set of car keys sat in your hands. Brand new keys to a brand new BMW. "Max," you began. "Seriously, I..."

"At least until you get your car working. Forever, if you want."

You sucked his dick extra good that night. He held the back of your head as you moved, as you took him down your throat.

He came three times in your mouth alone that night. It was an all night affair, the both of you losing track of time.

There was a few days before you used the car for the first time. Just to meet your friends. It didn't exactly feel wrong, but you didn't feel right about it either.

They looked at you with raised eyebrows. "Where the hell did this come from?" One asked as you walked towards the group.

"Gift," you mumbled as you locked it and dropped the keys into your bag. "From Max."

The raised eyebrows became knowing grins. "Ah," somebody said and the group started giggling.

"Girl, you've got yourself a sugar daddy."

962 notes · View notes

agreeewrites · 5 months ago

Text

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure singed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

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subbmissivesuccubus · 3 months ago

Text

Some Sylus thoughts <3

I just love non-sexual domination and that describes Sylus to a T.

Like you'll jump when Sylus suddenly places a glass of water beside you, taking your focus away from the book you're reading. And you'll thank him as you go back to the book but then he clears his throat.

"Drink it."

"Yeah, I will."

"Now."

And maybe you'll scoff and roll your eyes because you're never one to obey him immediately, especially when he uses that tone so you continue to read. But then he suddenly stands behind you and will slide his hand underneath your chin, cupping your face before tilting it upwards. You can't even get a word in as he'll press the rim of the glass to your lips, gently letting the water pour into your mouth. He'll hold you still and you have no choice but to drink but you didn't even realize how thirsty you were until the water slid down your throat. And once you're done, Sylus will pull the glass away before leaning down to press a kiss to your head.

"Good girl." is all he'll say before he leaves and within an hour, he'll be back with another glass.

Or when you're working late at home, typing away at your laptop with no indication of stopping. Sylus, despite being the worst night owl you know, refuses to let you succumb to a terrible sleep pattern. So he'll come upto your office and lean against the doorway, hands crossing over his chest as he waits for you to notice him.

"It's time for bed, kitten." chuckling when you jump at his voice.

"Not yet." you'll say with a heavy sigh, "I need to finish up a bit more. Besides, I'm not sleepy."

"Whatever you're working on now can be finished in the morning. You need to rest. Come on." he'll walk towards you, maybe to thread his long fingers through your hair or softly pet your cheek, making you whine.

"Sylus, i'm ok. I'd rather finish this now."

"You have been staring at your screen and working for the past five hours with no break. You're going to bed. Now."

And you'll look up at him with the defiance that he loves so much and say your catchphrase: "Make me."

And he'll grip your chin, giving you a smile like he was pitying you, "You don't want me to make you, baby girl. Be good and go to bed before I take you there myself because if I do, you definitely won't be sleeping and then you won't be able to wake up in the morning to finish your work."

"...Let me save my files."

"Smart choice."

He'll cook you food just to make sure you're eating nutritional and balanced meals. He'll snatch your phone away when you wake up and immediately reach for the device because it's not good to stare at the screen the moment you're awake. If your legs are over his lap as you both lounge on the couch, he'll mindlessly tug at your socks, making sure to pull them up properly if they start to bunch down.

He'll ask to be able to shower with you atleast once a week so he can wash you- not because you're not capable- but simply because he loves to take care of you. It doesn't feel sexual even as he rubs the lathered soap all over your soft skin- it's purely to satiate his need.

He has half a mind to try asking you if he can brush your teeth for you.

Don't even get me started on money. It's almost a kink for him to just toss you his black card and tell you that you can get anything you want. The sky is the limit. As rich as he is, he wants nothing more but to spoil you and let you indulge in his money. Why have all of that wealth if his precious baby can't try her best to spend it all?

#subby writes #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #lads sylus #lads smut

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plutoslastwords · 4 months ago

Note

can we get more babynorris!reader pleaseee i loved those they're soo cutee

stream sniper

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando makes a surprise return to streaming, baby norris makes a surprise appearance on said stream

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: this is short and terrible, i'm sorry, but i wanted to get something out before work starts to pile up on monday! tysm for requesting!!!! 🤍

~~~

“Goodnight my darling… sleep well baby.” Lando placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed and your eyes fought to stay open. “Daddy’ll come wake you up in the morning okay? There we go, good girl.” He smiled as you snuggled up with your favourite bunny toy and drifted off to sleep.

He quietly creeped out of your bedroom, and into his office where he had a message from Max (Fewtrell):

Max

you wanna join my stream?

Read the message, which Lando pondered on for a minute, before reaching a different conclusion.

You

only if you join mine

After a much too long hiatus, Lando was ready to return to his streaming days and with you sound asleep in bed, there was no better time than the present.

He struggles with setting up the stream, having to be retaught by Max, god, it’s really been way too long..

However, soon enough he was back in the familiar rhythm, gaming, cracking jokes with his friends and generally entertaining his stream. He’d missed streaming, between being a dad, F1 driver and all of his other duties he had not had much time to just enjoy some gaming with his friends with the rest of the world.

Him and his friends were just messing around for about 20 minutes when, silently, the door to his office slowly creaked open, which went unnoticed by him, but definitely not his stream.

You toddle in, holding your rabbit toy with messy bed hair and bunny pyjamas.

“Daddy..” you try calling, you couldn’t fall asleep and you needed him to give you another cuddle and tuck you in better. However, your call falls on deaf ears, Lando too engrossed in his game with his friends.

The chat is going insane, you’re very rarely shown to the public, Lando wanted to keep your life relatively normal, you’re only 3 after all, so therefore whenever his fans get a glimpse of you, chaos ensues.

Lando’s mods are desperately trying to get his attention that his daughter was in the background, knowing he’s anxious about how much of you should be shown to the public, however his game is much more interesting than any discord message from his team.

You pout when he ignores you yet again, the chat going crazy over your adorable scrunched up face. You know your daddy doesn’t really like it when you interrupt him when he’s working, but you chose to forget that, waddling over to where he sits and tugging on his shirt.

Lando jumps in surprise, having completely missed the fact that you had wandered into his office, and now were being shown in front of 15 thousand people. He quickly mutes his mic and turns his camera off, pulling you into his lap.

“Babygirl, why’re you here, huh? I thought you were meant to be in bed? Daddy’s working sweet thing…” he says softly.

“Couldn’t sleep daddy… wanna be with you…” He can hear his friends asking what’s wrong through his headset, he doesn’t want to upset you, but he also doesn’t want to stop the game, he very rarely gets chances like this to spend with his friends.

He pauses for a moment, going through his options, before eventually relenting. “Why don’t you stay here whilst daddy plays angel? Sit on my lap and you can fall asleep if you get tired, okay?” He coos at you.

In response, you nod, that sounds nice, getting to spend time with your daddy, especially when it’s past your bedtime. He smiles at you, “good girl, sweetheart..”

He turns his mic and camera back on, your little form now on view to the stream.

“We gotta new guest, chat, someone didn’t wanna fall asleep hm? Say hi to chat, my love” He strokes your hair gently.

“Hi chat…” You say shyly, waving, but you’re not really sure at who, there is no one there?

The chat immediately fills up with love for you, all of Lando’s fans adore you, who doesn’t? Lando smiles as he reads the messages of greeting, he loves how much everyone loves you, how much joy you bring to people, especially him.

Lando continues to play his game whilst you sit quietly, drifting off into a sleepy state from time to time. Occasionally you point out something that you could see on his screen, to which he would respond with a beaming grin and a ‘yeah baby, that’s right, clever clever girl!’, to which his chat would go even more insane.

Overtime, however, sitting watching your daddy’s strange game becomes a bit too much for you, and you are struggling to fight your heavy eyes. Before you know it, you are sound asleep on your daddy’s lap, head buried into his chest.

Noticing this, Lando smiles, “Gotta be quiet now, chat, the princess has gone to sleep..” he whispers, gently rubbing your back in order to make sure you are having as peaceful a sleep as possible. He grabs your bunny from where you had left it on his desk, placing it gently into your hold, knowing there’d be tears if you were to wake up without it.

The stream continues on for about another hour, but everyone can tell that it is no longer Lando’s main focus, too busy watching your peaceful little body on his lap. He finishes up the steam swiftly, having bigger priorities to focus on.

“Hey, baby, daddy’s finished now, we gotta get you back to bed, yeah?” He whispers softly, as to not startle you, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you up.

You just rub your head into his chest in response, still groggy and half asleep, but awake enough to get your thoughts across, “I stay with daddy.” You mumble firmly.

“No, baby, daddy’s gotta go to bed too, we gotta get up, okay?” He chuckles at your insistence.

“No!” You say, firmer this time, “I go to bed with daddy!”

Lando sighs, but there is no real malice, he would love nothing more than to have you with him, he sleeps the best he ever does when you’re right there, but he knows that it’s a bad habit to continually let you sleep in his bed.

He quickly shuts those thoughts down when he looks into your pleading, big, sweet, sleepy eyes, and all resolve cracks.

“Oh, of course, my darling, anytime, you know that..” He coos, standing up with you in his arms and heading towards his bedroom. “Daddy loves you more than anything, little monkey…”

~~~

a/n: sorry this isn't very good :( thank you sm for all of the love 😁 and pls keep on requesting anything about baby norris or anything else you'd like to see!

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 daughter #lando norris daughter

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chahnniesroom · 12 days ago

Text

to love and to cherish

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: chan comforts you when you have a bad day and are struggling with insecurity.

word count: 1.6k

tags/warnings: sad, hurt/comfort, reader is depressed

a/n: this fic was inspired by this reel and this reel. portions of the dialogue were taken directly from them. i actually had a super cute lee know fic planned for this title in the collection, but never got around to writing it so here you go instead 😅 this is the last fic for this collection, thank you to everyone who has read it!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has resigned himself to a life that's the opposite of routine. Between comebacks, promotions, and tours, there's always something new to juggle.

He wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes he craves an ordinary life.

That's one of the things he loves about you. How he can come home and get lost in the simplicity of cooking dinner, going grocery shopping, or folding laundry together. One of his favourite things is being able to spend a quiet night in with you.

As a regular office worker, your schedule is more predictable. You leave at the same time every morning and although you often have to work overtime, it’s a manageable amount.

In the beginning of your relationship, Chan often felt guilty about how chaotic his life was in comparison to yours and always felt that that it made him seem unreliable. It’s still something he worries about from time to time, but after a couple of years, the two of you have learned how to balance it all.

—

Chan knows something is wrong when he gets home and all the lights are off. He can tell that you’re home because he can see your shoes neatly lined up by the door and your work bag is hanging off one of the kitchen chairs.

He carefully takes his shoes off and makes his way further into the apartment, trying to stay quiet in case you’re sleeping. He feels his heart clench when he finds you awake instead, curled up in bed with tears running down your face. Even though you haven’t seen him yet, he can tell that you’re suppressing your cries, trying not to make a sound.

“Baby,” he says gently, kneeling on the floor beside you to get your attention without spooking you. “What's wrong?”

“Channie?” you look up at him with a sniffle. “How come you're home?”

“Nothing important, just tell me, what's got you so upset?”

You shake your head instead of responding, burrowing further into the makeshift nest that you’ve created by piling all the pillows and blankets into one side of the bed. Just the very top of your head is visible and even though he's concerned about how you're acting, Chan can’t help but think of how adorable you are. He extends a hand out and, when you don’t pull away, strokes through the bit of hair that’s still exposed.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” he asks.

“Mmm, no it was okay.” Your voice is faint, muffled by the blankets and hoarse from crying. Chan tries not to think of how long you must have been like this for your throat to be in such bad condition.

“Did you get any bad news? Is your family okay? DId something happen to one of your friends?”

The longer you stay silent, the more scared that Chan gets. He doesn't want to overwhelm you so he feels bad that he's practically bombarding you with questions. It's just that his mind is racing, thinking of every terrible thing that could have happened between when he had kissed you on your forehead as a goodbye this morning to now.

“Did I-” Chan asks tentatively. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

That’s what finally gets you to reply.

“I'm just having a bad day,” you say softly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Chan asks, immediately in problem-solving mode. “Did you eat yet? I can make us something and we can watch a movie or-”

You interrupt the beginnings of Chan’s rambling by reaching out and wrapping a hand around Chan’s wrist, tugging him towards where you’re lying.

“Just stay with me.”

Chan is quick to obey. He strips off his hoodie and pants before settling in beside where you're curled up. When you rearrange the blankets and shift to lean against Chan, he gathers you into his arms and tucks your head under his chin.

Neither of you say anything for a while. Chan focuses on controlling this breathing and is relieved when you slowly match him.

Chan can tell that you need a bit more time to calm down and he knows that you'll talk when you're ready, if you want to talk at all. He feels a pang of regret for not realising earlier that you were struggling so much today.

“I'm sorry that I'm depressed,” you say all of a sudden.

“Why are you apologising?” Chan asks, genuinely confused. “You have nothing to apologise for, it's not like you chose to be depressed.”

“I just- Don't you ever wish that I was more normal?”

“What?”

“I mean, you could easily find someone else to date, someone better-”

“I'm going to have to stop you there,” Chan says firmly. “Yes, I could find someone else to date, you could too. But I don’t want to, you’re the one that’s best for me, you’re the one I want to be with. I chose you.”

“Yeah, but you chose the old me, the happy version of me. I- I’m not good to date right now.”

“I chose you and I will continue to choose you. You’re still you even if you’re depressed. Depression doesn’t decrease your worth or make you any less lovable than when I first met you.”

“But it sucks that you have to take care of me like this, that you have to deal with all my bad days.”

“I don’t like it when you have a bad day either, but it’s not because I don’t want to take care of you. A part of any close relationship is taking care of each other and I would do even more if it would help your depression. I just wish there was something I could do to make it so that you never have a bad day again. And it’s not like I’m always looking after you, you take care of me all the time too,” Chan reminds you.

“But that’s different,” you mumble, turning to hide your face in Chan’s shoulder.

“Is it?” Chan asks. Instead of trying to coax you into looking at him, he just wraps his arms around you tighter, rubbing slow circles onto your back. “You took on all the cooking and cleaning when I injured my wrist, even though the doctor said I could still do everyday tasks.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “You injured yourself and had to rest, otherwise you wouldn’t heal as quickly.”

“You help me when my insomnia is bad and I can’t sleep at night. I used to feel so bad because I knew that you would get scolded at work for showing up so tired after staying up with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” you say quickly. “I wanted to, you didn’t make me stay up.”

“Just like how I want to help you,” Chan reminds you. “I know what you’re going through is difficult and I want to do anything I can to make it easier for you.”

“But what if I’m like this forever?” you ask in a small voice. “What if I’m always sad?”

“Listen, just because this is how things are now, does not mean things will always be this way, okay? I know it can be hard to think that way, but I’ll always be here to remind you.”

"It just feels like I'm never going to get better."

"What does getting better mean to you?"

"Being back to what I was like in the past, when I was happier."

"I think if you look at it that way, you won't be satisfied. But I see you, I see your progress. You've been seeing a therapist, and I know they have helped you a lot. You've told me that the medications you've been taking have improved how and what you feel."

"I guess," you say reluctantly.

"I see that you're trying. You won't always be happy. That's natural. The important thing is that you'll learn that you can experience disappointment or misfortune, that bad things will happen, but you will still survive. I know that it's hard, but I'll be here alongside you."

“Can you promise me something?” you ask tentatively, peeking out to look at Chan.

“Anything,” he agrees immediately.

“If you ever get tired of all this, of me, promise that you’ll tell me. Promise me that you’ll leave. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this relationship.”

“As long as you do the same to me,” Chan says.

“What? I wouldn’t ever have to-” you start to object.

“And I don’t think I will either.”

“I’m sorry that you have to always reassure me,” you say quietly.

“I told you, I don’t mind-”

“I think this is the worst version of me,” you say all of a sudden. You hold your breath, as if you’re bracing for Chan’s reply. He doesn’t even have to think to respond.

“I feel safe with the worst version of you.”

You’re quiet for so long that Chan starts to worry that he didn’t say the right thing. He shouldn’t have made it sound like he agrees that this is the worst version of you, he should have reassured you more he-

“I feel safe with you too,” you finally reply and Chan knows that everything is going to be alright.

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

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natsnerd · 2 months ago

Text

Answer your fucking phone.

Warnings: G!p Nat, Mentions of Husband, cheating(On husband) Billionaire nat, Mean nat, mentions of spanking, a little stalkish.

Word count: 806

________

Your words is what she liked “Your terms” is what made her smirk, she loved that you knew immediately she would be in control, it put a thrill through her

Natasha put her phone down so she could think about terms, she wasn't going to be soft on you, that would allow you to be a brat and her husband is enough of one for her, she wanted an obedient girl who she could dot on.

After a few minutes of thinking she sent you a list.

The list

I'll give you a 10,000 dollar monthly allowance, if you don't spend all that in one month, I'll give you a spank for every thousand you didn't spend, if you don't spend it, it will be added onto your next monthly payment.

if your going to beg me for something, call me mommy whilst begging, for example "Please mommy, I want this dress"

you'll get a copy of my black card

you will not flirt or sleep with anyone. as long as your spending MY money you belong to me

I'm going to pay your tuition. end of discussion

you must send me a picture of every thing you use for school, if I find them acceptable, you can keep them but if they're cheap? I'm buying you better ones.

no touching yourself without mommy's permission, when I come see you - that is if your comfortable meeting face to face, I want you to wear a dress

Pick a safe word baby, I want you to be comfortable.

If you're comfortable I want to see your writing.

Tell me your kinks, I want to see if you're my good little girl.

I'll add more if I think of more

She smirked and hit send, a satisfied smile crossing her lips as she packed her things back into her purse, she had enough of work and just wanted to go home and take a break.

Her phone did not ping with a notification which annoyed her greatly but she decided to ignore it, she fixed her suit and left her office, walking down to the garage where her Lamborghini sat, enjoying the dark against its skin, the blood red colour matching Natasha's aesthetic perfectly

________

By the time Natasha got home, the sun was starting to set, she parked her car and scanned her security card on the apartment complex entrance before getting into the elevator, the drive here was over an hour and a half so she hadn't had time to check her phone yet, she digs her hand into her pocket to pull out her phone and checks if you've massaged her, a frustrated groan leaves her lips when you haven't, she checks and you haven't even read her message.

One thing Natasha could not stand was being ignored, she understood you were in college but you didn't even have time to reply to her message? Enough was enough. She decided to text you again

“Don't be a brat. I hate brats. Reply to my message now.” Her tone was stern and strict, she wanted you to know she wasn't playing around, she wanted you. She would get you even if it meant driving her ass to your school and spanking you until you understood that.

She unlocked the door to her penthouse and walked in, shrugging her jacket off

“Hello, Mrs Romanoff!” The maid says cheerfully as she pours Natasha a glass of vodka.

“Shut up, whore, I know you flirt with my husband, fuck him if you want, his small cock means absolutely nothing to me” She takes the vodka and walks off, not even noticing the maids face pale as she stuttered out apologises.

She drank her vodka as she checked her phone, you still havent fucking replied.

She was starting to get pissed off, she slammed her glass down on the bedside table and ripped off her tie, rolling her sleeves up and walking back out the penthouse.

She was going to find your school. Your ass would be aching by the time she was done with you.

She checked your social media as she got in the driver's seat, she checked your friends and then your families until she found your college dorm address,

It only took her 15 minutes to get to your dorm, she was very happy it wasn't far, the closer you were to her personal home the more she could see you without her husband thinking she was cheating, she didn't care if he found out but she could not be bothered to go through the whole divorce process.

She checked what dorm your room was and began walking there, ready to spank your ass till her handprint was engraved.

She checked each dorm number before finding yours, a grin coming onto her face as she banged on your door.

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iamthatonefangirl · 3 months ago

Text

miss possessive part 3 - nsfw congressman bucky barnes

okay so forgive me i know nothing about how it works to be elected for congress i apologize

also just pretend that Bucky's assistant is like lowkey his campaign manager ok please humor me.

part 1

part 2

~~~

nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos that would come when you got the news.

he's been elected.

everyone in the office is running around. the constant ringing of phones continues to fill the room, people are loudly talking over each other, trying to celebrate and stay on task at the same time.

it's insanity, really.

right now, you feel like you're going crazier than anyone else. you have to coordinate everyone, make sure things are getting done, and you're scrambling for time.

Bucky has to give a speech tonight that you have to prep him for, accompany him to, and you've barely even finished making the arrangements for the press and the location and the timing and where the hell is Bucky?

you're just trying to keep up, let alone remind yourself that you're going to be jobless after this.

you're on the phone, still on hold, all while typing out your formal thank-you note to go out to the donors.

amongst all the chatter and everyone continually bothering you, you were getting fed up of sitting at your desk. so when you found Bucky's office empty, you figured it's a relatively quiet spot. you can finally get some work done, and no one will look for you here. perfect.

when the person on the other line finally takes you off hold, Bucky opens the door and walks in. you mouth sorry to him for having taken up his desk, and try to make your phone discussion as short as possible.

he's standing there, on the other side of the desk, watching you with a small smirk on his face. you can't help but smile back at him while you continue to talk, maintaining the intense eye contact you've held since he entered.

fuck, he looks good. hands in his pockets, hair slicked back, wearing that navy blue suit that makes his shoulders look broad and his waist look snatched as fuck.

the past months have been insanely stressful, both of you working long hours, all of it leading up to today. yet it's been utter bliss getting to spend every minute with him, getting to sleep in his bed on nights you work way too late and are too tired to drive home.

you finally hang up the phone and sigh in exhaustion, leaning back into his chair and rubbing your forehead. "fuck, who knew it would be this crazy when it finally happened?" you comment.

"I just can't believe it happened," he admits to you, still standing there, still looking so delectable.

you look back up at him. "of course it happened. you deserve this."

he can see the tiredness in your smile, the way the stress has been following you around all day. he knows you're both going to be here late tonight, even after he gives his acceptance speech this evening.

he watches as you prepare to stand from his chair, shutting your laptop. "sorry for stealing your office, my desk-" you begin, but he interrupts, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

"where do you think you're going?" he teases.

"uh, my desk," you quip back. what's he getting at...

"nope. you're not going anywhere," he smiles, gently urging you to sit back in the chair. you do, but begin to protest, "Bucky, I have so much-"

your words catch in your throat as you watch him get down on his knees in front of you.

it's probably the hottest thing you've ever seen, but you have so much work, you can't do this here, not now-

"Bucky," you gasp as he begins to run his hands up your thighs, under your pencil skirt. "I'm so busy, and we're literally in the office, and..." you trail off as he begins to put his mouth on the inside of your thighs.

you try to protest some more, but he tells you off.

"you gonna keep whining, or are you gonna let me make you feel good?"

you feel lightheaded in only the best way. you nod. this is so reckless, and so unlike you, but fuck if you don't love the sight of him on his knees in front of you.

you let him lift your hips as he rolls the skirt up just high enough to expose your entire lower half, still in awe of how strong he is, how easily he can move you without even trying.

you feel him run his thumb up and down the wet spot on your underwear. you can't even feel embarrassed at how quickly he turned you into a drenched mess because you know he loves it.

"that's it, that's right," he coos as you lean back in the chair, letting your eyes shut. "just relax for me."

if you had told yourself when you first started this job that you would end up sitting in your boss' chair, with said boss about to eat you out in said chair, you wouldn't have believed it. you'd have called yourself delusional. and yet, here you are.

you watch him use both hands to peel your panties down to your ankles before diving in.

fuck, his tongue is exquisite.

this is so wrong. you have so much to do. you can hear the people outside buzzing around the office, trying to get things done for you and for him, and you're in here doing this?

you don't care.

you run your hands through his hair, gripping tightly as you grind your hips against his face. in this moment, screw everything else. it's just you and him.

the five o'clock shadow on his face does nothing but work you up even more. you lean into the feeling, letting go of all the stress, and reminding yourself of the good things, like Bucky's mouth between your legs.

you're probably suffocating him, you realize, and force yourself to get a grip, letting go of his hair to give him room to breathe.

he pulls back. "nah, baby, come on-"

"don't want you to asphyxiate," you pant.

"fucking hell, baby, want you to take what you need."

no way you're saying no to that.

you lace your fingers back in his hair, interlocking them at the back of his head, and you do exactly as he told you.

you're probably a fucking sight right now, rutting against his face like there's no tomorrow, but god it feels so good.

he loves when you finally let loose, letting go of all inhibition to let him get you off.

"that's right, baby, come on," he encourages, pulling back for just a minute, replacing his mouth with his fingers. "look at me."

with all the strength you can muster, you look down at him, eyes surely black with lust for him. god, his face is soaked. you let out a groan at the sight.

"you're gonna come like this, with my mouth on you, then I'm gonna bend you over my desk, got it?"

he doesn't give you the chance to respond before his tongue is back on you, and it doesn't take much longer. your mind goes fuzzy, cotton in your ears, and you're willing it, just waiting for the drop–

you exhale deeply when it finally happens, and you let him work you through it until you twitch from overstimulation.

a moment passes where you finally catch your breath, and then he’s picking you up by the hips and seating you on the desk. your hands come to his shoulders lazily as he manhandles you, not even opening your eyes, too engulfed in the aftermath of the pleasure he's just drawn from you.

you suppose he forgot about bending you over the desk, because he’s facing you and pulling you in to kiss him as he unbuckles his belt and pushes your legs apart with his hips.

“you okay, baby?” he asks.

you nod your head, eyes still shut, smiling. he chuckles. “there you go. that’s what I like to see, all fucked out 'cause of me, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

you nod as he brings his hand to your face, cradling your head and running his thumb over the faded scar on your forehead before bringing his lips to press a light kiss to it.

you know he still feels terrible about the accident, even months later. you remind him as often as you can that it’s not his fault, shit happens. he makes sure to remind you every day how beautiful you are, scar or no scar.

and then he’s stretching you out on his dick, making you moan out wantonly.

he begins rambling in your ear as you cling to him, barely able to listen to his words with the feeling of him fucking you on his desk.

“this is all I’m gonna be thinking about tonight, baby,” he begins. “gonna be at that podium… reading whatever fuck-ass words on the teleprompter… thinking about you, baby,” he says, rubbing his hand over the scar again. his words are messy and breathy as he tries to get them out, but it’s music to your ears, listening to him as he takes you apart, only for him.

“love you so much, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers. you lift your head from his shoulder and press your lips messily to his. there’s little coordination, and you’re too busy moaning out into the room, barely making any effort to actually kiss him, but it’s perfect. with him, it’s always perfect.

“love you,” you whine as you get closer. “so… much… love you.”

“gonna let me fill you up, baby?”

the fog in your head lifts for a moment as you remember where you are. you shake your head. “not now… later,” you urge him. “later, Bucky, promise.”

he nods, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as you clamp down on him, reaching your peak.

he pulls out only moments before he comes, making a mess all over his hands.

you breathe heavily, leaning back on the desk, resting your weight on your palms as he cleans the both of you up.

your eyes barely open to look up at the clock. fuck, you just lost so much time.

“Bucky, fuck, I have so much to do–” you begin, but he cuts you off with his lips on yours.

“I know, baby. I know. but just think, tonight, after my speech, we’ll come back here and do this all over again, yeah?”

you nod. the night ahead is guaranteed to be the busiest one yet, but you know he’ll make good on his promise regardless. he’d do anything for you.

~~~

part 1

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kookooluvr · 18 days ago

Text

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE — PART 8

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor! jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: 13.8k

warnings: jk's mood starts out kinda down, oc pours her heart out on a long ass voicemail, the long awaited reunion (yay yay yayyyy), lots of tears (happy tears, don't worry guys), loads and loads of fluff, love confessions, mentions of oc going to therapy, mention of jk's kiss with hana (🙄), talks of oc's past relationship trauma, explicit sexual content; lots of kissing, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, morning sex, brief cowgirl, doggy, post-sex shower and breakfast.

a/n: AHHHHHH !!!! WAR HAS ENDED !!! i'm so happy for my babies y'all, they're so in love 🥹🥹 pleasssseeee let me know all your thoughts because i'd love to hear them. do all the lovely things (like, comment, reblog) because it really helps me, and enjoy !! 🫂🫶🏼

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @puppybunnyjkay @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @gukkie7 @ambiee3 @blueberriesm @milkk1400 @yuriouki @lovelovethebeatles @somehowukook @deedeeps @emily-hung @jkaxl @bhonbhon @bearchermer @annafarrr @in-out-inbetween @mar-lo-pap @lilacstellar

SERIES MASTERLIST

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The snow falls in quiet, gentle flakes outside his office window, blanketing Yonsei's campus in white. It's beautiful in that cinematic, melancholic kind of way. It's the kind of snow that makes you wish you had someone to hold hands with, someone to snuggle under a blanket, someone who would gently brush their fingers over your eyes and say, "It's sticking to your eyelashes, dummy."

But all Jungkook has is silence.

The campus is mostly empty, buildings shuttered for winter break, windows no longer glowing with office lights. The buzz of the semester has finally burned itself out and so has Jungkook.

His office is warm but sterile, lit by the dull buzz of fluorescent lights. He could have left by now, just like everyone else. The last of the faculty had filtered out hours ago, eager to escape into the arms of winter break, laughing in wool coats and boots as they made promises to unplug, to rest, to spend the break baking and sleeping in and binge-watching dramas.

He could've gone home too, should have, honestly, but he stayed. Not because he has to, but because there's nothing waiting for him at home except a fridge of neglected groceries, a sleeping Bam, and a bed that feels cold and lonely to sleep in. He barely sleeps in his bed. Most nights, he just falls asleep on the couch after drowning himself in work. That must be why he hasn't noticed anything missing from his home, anything that would be incredibly valuable to him, like a box filled with his heart written out on paper.

Taehyung hasn't said anything about the box he stole that night. He's done what he could do and all he can do now is wait and see what you choose to do with what you were given.

Jungkook hasn't gotten a chance to speak to Taehyung in the past week because he's been spending his time grading the last of his students' exams and spending his free time with Jihyo. He's happy for him. At least one of them got their girl.

Life has started to feel like it's moving again, and he can't decide if that's a good thing or not. It's not to say that his life has been meaningful in any way because that would be a lie. He goes to work and goes home to Bam, who he pours all of his affection into. He goes through the motions of eating and sleeping because he has to or else he won't survive, but it doesn't feel as burdensome as it used to.

Does that mean he's starting to move on from you? He can't lie and say yes. He doesn't know how to do that.

Move on.

A part of him still holds onto the hope that it'll all end with you. The other part of him feels like four months is too long a time to keep hoping. Something inside of him, that petty little thing gnawing at his brain, wishes you would come crawling back and beg for his forgiveness for breaking his heart, the forgiveness he stupidly already gave you without you even having to ask for it.

Most days, going home means stillness, and in stillness, you return. Home is where the walls still remember your voice, whether it be laughing at something he said or moaning as he explored your body. Home is where Jungkook lies awake in bed thinking about the day he finally told you he loved you, and you couldn't say it back. Not because you didn't feel it, he knows you felt it, but because you didn't feel safe enough to say it.

It still hurts, but some days work takes his mind off of things for a while and it hurts just a little bit less. Like today.

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. The last batch of admin forms is finally filed, course evaluations uploaded, and emails answered. His brain feels like static on a tv screen, his body running on bitter, re-heated coffee. He didn't eat lunch. He barely had time for breakfast because he accidentally overslept and had to fly out the door without even a glance at the mirror.

He heaves a deep sigh and glances at the clock on the wall.

6:57pm.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, gathering his things. He shrugs on his coat and slings his satchel over his shoulder before flicking off the office light.

The hallway echoes with his footsteps. For the first time in months, he doesn't turn his head in hopes of catching a glance at you in the hallways.

Outside, the snow crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way to the parking lot. It's basically empty, given everyone already left to enjoy the start of their winter break. He'd normally text Taehyung to ask if he's still on campus, maybe suggest grabbing a coffee, but his phone is sitting right on his kitchen counter at home. Of course. That's the result of forgetting to set an alarm in the morning.

Today's apparently just not his day. And now, the final cherry on top: two hours' worth of traffic.

Jungkook groans as his car crawls along the main road, brake lights stretching endlessly ahead of him like a red river of holiday misery. The snow isn't helping, but neither is the wave of exhaustion crashing over him. He stares out the window, chin resting against his knuckles.

He should be excited to have time off. Everyone else is. All he can think about, however, is how much emptier everything feels now.

By the time he finally pulls up to his driveway, it's well after 9pm. The snow is still falling, covering the sidewalk in a thin white coat, his foot almost slipping when he gets out of the car. He slams his car door shut, trudging up to the front door, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his boots in the entryway. Bam greets him at the door, tail wagging, whining excitedly as he rubs his head against Jungkook's leg.

"Hey, big boy," he murmurs, dropping his bag to kneel down and scratch behind the dog's ears. "I missed you too, buddy."

Bam licks his cheek and bolts to the living room, expecting their usual post-work playtime, but Jungkook's energy is spent.

He heads straight for the kitchen, pulls out a can of beer and stares at it for a few seconds before cracking it open with a sigh. The first sip tastes bitter but he drinks it anyway. Then he sinks into the couch, his shoulders slumped, and stares blankly at the black tv screen. The beer does nothing to warm the hollowness inside him.

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, letting the low hum of the heater fill the room. Now that he has no work to keep him busy, he's left with a dull ache in his chest.

His beer is halfway finished when Jungkook hears the buzz of his phone coming from the kitchen counter.

He doesn't feel like speaking to anyone right now, but he reluctantly drags himself off the couch and pads over to get the phone from the counter, letting out a sigh as he unlocks it to see who's bothering him.

It's a text from his mom.

Mom [9:46]: Jungkook, please make sure you're careful out there! I read something about a man who slipped and cracked his skull open in the snow. Dead instantly! Love you. Wear proper shoes!!

Jungkook stares at the screen, blinking. He lets out a faint chuckle, his thumbs flying across the screen to let her know that he is in fact alive and well, and that she should stop reading those Facebook posts.

He goes through his missed notifications and doesn't find anything out of the ordinary. That is until he sees it.

Missed call. One voicemail.

From you.

His entire body goes stiff, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at your name on his screen, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. He doesn't press play. Not right away. He stares at the little play button like it might bite him. In fact, it might just kill him.

You called him after months of radio silence and he can't figure out why. He doesn't even realize he's pacing around the living room until Bam lets out a small huff of confusion. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair almost a million times, his phone clutched to his chest.

What if it's closure?

What if you're saying goodbye for real this time?

What if you're trying the fix what you broke?

He doesn't know which of those scares him more, if he's quite honest with himself. But then he remembers your face. The way you looked that morning when you broke things off. You didn't look angry, just...scared. Wounded.

He has to listen to the voicemail. He can't not listen to it.

He takes one deep breath, a really long, drawn-out breath, and hits play.

Your voice crackles softly through the speaker and his legs almost give in.

"Hey...it's, uhm...it's me. I, uhh...I know it's been months...and you probably don't want to hear from me...and I wouldn't blame you..."

There's a long pause before you continue, and he stands frozen, waiting with bated breath.

"I know you're hurt...and angry...and uhm..."

There's another pause before a deep sigh.

"You said you wanted to get to know the...the real me, so, uhm...I wrote some things down and I wanted to read them to you. It's kinda stupid, I know...and if you just want to put the phone down right now, I understand...but..."

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, hearing the shakiness of your voice. It makes his stomach churn with nerves.

"I grew up very shy...kinda nerdy. I was bullied a lot in elementary school, so my parents had to put me in another school because girls would call me ugly names and lock me in the bathroom during break. I have a close relationship with my parents. They're the people I hold most dear to me, and my sister, Yuna, who you already know about. My parents worked really hard to provide the best for us. My mom was a seamstress, and my dad actually worked as a lecturer at SNU for almost thirty years. I think I saw how passionate he was about his job, so I followed in his footsteps," you chuckle.

"I took ballet from the age of five to thirteen, and piano around twelve, but I forgot most of it, so please never ask me to play. I had braces at thirteen and I had a 'Dora the Explorer' haircut for most of middle school," you sigh.

As the seconds tick by, the ache in Jungkook's chest swells. With every word, every pause, every breath you take on the other end of the line, something in his unravels. He sits down on the couch and closes his eyes, listening with a smile on his face, his eyes stinging with emotion.

"I love spicy food, even though my stomach hates me afterwards. I love it, can't stop eating it. My mom always scolds me and says I'm hurting my body, but...oh well," you scoff. "I know you always make fun of me for liking matcha, so shut up, I don't wanna hear it, Jeon Jungkook. I like matcha, okay? Sue me. My favourite flavour of ice cream is vanilla, boring and basic, I know. I love baking, which you already know because you've gotten a batch or two of cookies on your desk at work from an unknown source, even though I know that you know it was always me. I love chocolate cake, the really fudgy kind that's almost too sweet and you have to drink a glass of milk with it. I had two pets throughout my childhood and Miso is my third. I might be biased but she's the best. Okay, uh, what else? Uhmmm...I have a fear of heights...and snakes...and clowns. Fucking hate clowns. I'm allergic to pollen and get really stuffy and sneezy during spring, but you always give me your little pack of tissues, which I never actually see you use, so I think you only buy them to give them to me. I've never travelled outside of Korea, but I'd like to someday. Maybe to Barcelona or Paris. I love romcoms and all the cliché, sappy stuff that's way too unrealistic to actually happen in real life...and my embarrassing guilty pleasure is Love Island. Don't make fun of me because I know you will!"

There's another long pause while you brace yourself for what's to come. Jungkook hangs onto every word, the phone clutched tightly in his shaky hand.

"I was in a seven-year relationship with my ex, Sunghoon...the one I told you about in Jeju. We met when I was sixteen...and...I thought I was going to marry him and have babies...grow old together..."

Jungkook feels his face burn hot with suppressed emotion. This is it. This is what he's been waiting for. You're finally giving him the missing puzzle pieces he never had before. You're finally telling him why you could never fully give yourself to him.

"Sunghoon proposed to me and, naturally, I said yes because...I thought that he was...my person," you sigh. "He told me that I was the one true love of his life and that he would never do anything to hurt me. And then he...cheated on me. He cheated on me with a friend of mine and...I packed up my things and I left."

Your voice is shakier now, like you're willing yourself not to cry, and this almost breaks Jungkook completely.

"I cried on Jihyo's bathroom floor for God knows how long. It took me almost two years to stop hurting. I blamed myself. He blamed me too. I let him convince me that it was somehow my fault that he cheated, that I just wasn't good enough for him. And I was so depressed for such a long time because of what he did to me. I promised myself that I would never let anyone in like that again...I would never allow myself to be loved by a man because that would give them the power to hurt me. And then I transferred to work at Yonsei and...and then I met you. And we became friends...and you were so...kind...and so welcoming...and you made me feel comfortable. And then we got drunk at that staff Christmas party last year and had sex, and maybe I was stupid enough to think that no one would end up getting hurt in the end. And when we kept doing it, I needed those boundaries to keep me safe from being hurt by the cute economics professor I was secretly hooking up with. Those stupid rules and boundaries would protect me from you and the feelings I knew I was starting to develop for you. I knew that if I let you stay the night...if I let you kiss me whenever you wanted...if I fell asleep in your arms every night...I knew that I'd fall in love with you. And yet...stupid me, and my stupid heart...I didn't care about any of that because I still fell. I fell in love with you."

You let out a soft sigh, your voice trembling.

"When we started hooking up, you made me feel like a woman again instead of an empty shell. You made me feel desired and...sexy...and beautiful. You made me feel like I wasn't the problem all along...like Sunghoon cheating on me wasn't because of anything that I did. And when you told me you loved me it all just became a bit too real, and I freaked out because Sunghoon loved me too at some point, and he still betrayed me. And if I told you that I loved you...it would be opening myself up to be hurt again. And I get it if you never want to speak to me again because I wouldn't either if I were you. I'm a mess and I run away when I get scared and I hurt people before they can hurt me...and...and I punished you because of Sunghoon's actions. I hurt you because he hurt me and I'm so, so sorry, Jungkook."

It's as if time stands still for Jungkook. He almost thinks that's the end of it, but your voice comes through right at the end in a soft, shaky murmur.

"You are...the sweetest, kindest...most amazing man that I have ever met...and I love you, Jungkook. I'm so utterly...madly in love with you...and you deserve so much better than me...but if you give me the chance...I swear I'll never hurt you like I did before. So...yeah...that's all. Please call me back. Bye."

Jungkook doesn't move for a while after the voicemail ends. He just sits there, staring down at the phone in his hand as if it still holds your voice, like if he listens hard enough, maybe he can hear you right here with him in his living room.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears his own broken sob slipping from his throat and harshly stabbing his ears. It startles him. It sounds raw. Uncontrolled.

His head spins as the weight of the voicemail finally crashes into him. Everything you said, everything you gave him in that voicemail, it was real. It was all of you.

You're finally letting him see the real you.

You gave him everything he thought you'd never trust him with; your pain, your past, your fears, your truth. And it wrecks him.

He sinks onto his back on the couch, the phone clutched like it holds all the most precious secrets in the world. The only thing wracking through his brain is your voice. It echos in his ears, every confession whispered with shaky breath.

You really love him.

He presses a hand over his mouth as another sob escapes, muffled and aching, tears slipping hot and fast down his cheeks. It's quiet devastation. It's relief and love and hope.

He has to get to you. Now.

Jungkook rushes to stand up and gather his things. His hands shake as he looks for his keys. Where the hell are his keys? He pats down every pocket, rushing from the living room to the entryway, looking frantic, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear through his ribs.

He yanks on his boots, almost falling over in the process. He doesn't even care to put his coat on because he finds his keys and rushes to yank the front door open, but he freezes at the sight that greets him.

There you are. Standing on his porch.

Your hand is raised as if you were about to ring the doorbell, but you freeze, caught mid-motion. Snow falls around you, gathering in your hair, on your shoulders, soft and shimmery in the porch light. You're clutching something against your chest.

The box.

His box.

Jungkook's heart lurches into his throat, so hard and so fast it's almost painful.

Neither of you say anything at first. You both just stare at each other with wide eyes and ragged breaths, cold snowflakes melting on heated cheeks and old tears drying as new ones form.

And then you speak, soft and steady.

"I read your letters."

His stomach twists sharply, his hands trembling where they hover uselessly by his sides.

He blinks at you, completely stunned. "W-What?"

You tighten your hold on the cardboard box as if it's the only thing anchoring you there. The lid almost falls off, which feels quite like your emotions as you stand before him, just begging to spill out at the seams.

"I read all of them. Every single one. Even the ones from as far back as four years ago."

Jungkook's mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. His eyebrows furrow, a million questions running through his head. When he finally does speak, his voice is breathless, almost too quiet to hear. "How did you get those?"

You shift the box in your hold, steadying it under your arm while you wipe your damp cheek with the sleeve of your sweater, fresh tears falling.

"Taehyung," you croak out, your chuckle shaky and broken. "He...he must have stolen them if you didn't even know I had them."

He scoffs, his eyebrows shooting up. "That little-"

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, stepping forward, the snow crunching under your shoes.

"I'm glad he did, Kook," you murmur, your voice wobbling with your emotions. "Because if he hadn't...I never would've known..."

He stares at you, his heart hammering with every inch that disappears between your bodies. "Known what?"

You swallow thickly, your tears glistening in your lashes. "That you loved me even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I insisted on keeping you at arm's length. That...you saw me, even the parts I tried to hide."

You let out a breath, your voice quivering, your eyes welling up until everything spills over and runs down your face.

"That you waited for me to be brave enough to love you back."

You step closer, your words spilling out, desperate and earnest like you have to convince him of your true feelings.

"I read every word, Jungkook. I read about all the little things you noticed about me when I thought no one did. I read about all the nights you got close to confessing your feelings for me but didn't because you knew I wasn't ready to receive it. How much you hoped that I would choose you someday. And it made me realize that I was never scared of you hurting me. I was scared because...because you loved me so deeply and...I didn't think I deserved to be loved like that by someone as good as you."

You sniffle, laughing weakly through heavy tears. "But you loved me anyway. You loved me so...patiently. And I was too much of a coward to let myself have it."

Jungkook's body buzzes with adrenaline, his muscles trembling, his emotions boiling so violently inside him that he feels as if he might fall to his knees. But he remains firm. He owes it to himself.

"I'm so, so sorry, Jungkook," you whisper. "I'm sorry for pushing you away and I'm sorry for making you think you weren't enough. You're everything. You always have been."

He can't take it anymore. He can't bear to stand here anymore and not have you in his arms where you belong.

In one swift motion, Jungkook steps forward and grabs the box of letters from your hands, tossing it somewhere inside without a care before cupping your cheeks in his trembling hands, pulling you to him.

And then he's kissing you. Hard. Desperate. He kisses you like he's trying to pour every unsaid word, every lonely night, every broken piece of himself into you, where he feels safe.

You whimper against his lips, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like you'll drown without him. The snow falls even heavier, but neither of you notice. All he knows is that you're here now. You're home.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Kook," you mumble against his mouth, pulling away to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't apologize. You're here now."

"Still. I shouldn't have hurt you just because I was still hurting from my past. It wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve that."

He hears the genuine remorse in your voice, sees the guilt in your eyes, and it twists his heart. He wants to argue and tell you that he knows you were just protecting yourself, that it's all okay, but he doesn't. He can't deny that it hurt, the silence you gave him, the cold shoulder.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your face and gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. "I understand why you did it...but I'm not your ex. I wouldn't...I'd never..." he trails off, his words getting caught in his throat.

You nod, offering him a soft smile, your eyes growing glossy. "I know."

He swallows, his throat feeling tight. "I couldn't hurt you like that. I care about you too much."

"I know, baby," you whisper, gently pecking his lips.

The pet name sends a shiver down his spine. It has never sounded better than when it rolls off your tongue.

He kisses you back, closing his eyes as he savours the feeling of your mouth on his, your tongues moving in a slow dance. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you against his chest, his hands trailing up and down your back.

He breaks the kiss only long enough to press his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his thumbs gently stroking your back through the wool of your sweater.

"I missed you," he chokes out. "God, I missed you so much, ___."

His mouth finds yours again. It's softer now, slower, tasting the saltiness of your fresh tears, the sweetness of your lips on his, the warmth of having you, really having you this time.

He drags you inside, kicking the door shut with his foot, not once letting you go.

Bam barks excitedly somewhere behind him, but Jungkook barely hears him. His world has narrowed to the feeling of you in his arms, the weight of you real and warm and finally his to love.

"Don't leave me again," he whispers into the kiss. "Please."

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder. "Never," you promise, your voice breathless, thick with emotion. "Never again."

Outside, the snow falls, blanketing the city with the finality of the year past, but inside, your kisses hold the promise of everything that's still waiting to begin.

Jungkook doesn't break the kiss as he walks you backwards down the hall, pausing every few steps just to murmur your name against your lips like he still can't believe you're really here.

Your back hits the doorframe of his bedroom, and he smiles against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist as he guides you inside. The room is dim except for the glow of the snowfall filtering through the curtains, silver light dusting over the bed, the walls, you.

He kicks the door closed to make sure Bam doesn't interrupt because he can't afford to stop at a moment like this. He keeps moving until he stops in front of the bed and pulls away from the kiss to look at you properly, looking at you like you're something holy, something he's afraid to touch too quickly and ruin.

His hands drift down from your waist, slow and reverent, until they find the hem of your sweater. His fingers brush teasingly along the strip of skin just above your jeans, and you shiver under his touch.

You reach for the hem to help him, but he gently shakes his head, his lips brushing against your temple. "Let me. Please."

You nod, your heart pounding, your eyes shining as you look up at him in the dim light of his bedroom, the moonlight making everything feel that much softer and sweeter.

With infinite tenderness, Jungkook lifts your sweater, bunching it higher inch by inch. His hands graze over your sides, your ribs, the underswell of your breasts. You raise your arms for him, and he pulls the fabric over your head, tossing it aside without ever taking his eyes off you.

His breath hitches, his hands skimming back down to cradle your waist. "You're so goddamn perfect," he murmurs, like a secret meant only for you.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. Without speaking, you undo each one and slowly pull the cotton off of his shoulders, watching it fall to the ground. His skin is warm and solid under your touch, and your palms flatten against his chest, feeling the pounding rhythm of his heart.

Jungkook captures your mouth in a slow, passionate kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips. You clumsily kick off your shoes and he gently walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then, with a careful push, he lays you down among the pillows.

He hovers over you, just staring, his gaze drinking you in like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen. His thumb strokes lightly across your cheekbone.

"Hi," you whisper, smiling up at him, like two lovers meeting after an eternity apart.

"Hi, baby," he whispers before dipping his head to kiss you once more. But he doesn't stay at your mouth for too long.

His lips trail lower, across your jaw, down the curve of your throat. He worships every inch of skin he comes across in his path, kissing slowly, desperately, down to the hollow between your collarbones, the soft curve of your breast, his fingers reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

He gently tosses the material to the floor and dips his head to swirl his tongue around a nipple, giving it a nice, slow suck before pulling off with a pop, moving on to the other nipple.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he licks and sucks on your breasts, leaving them glistening under the moonlight.

With a lingering kiss to the underside of your breast, he moves lower, trailing his wet lips down the dip of your stomach.

He pulls away to sit back on his knees, reaching for the button of your jeans. "Can I take these off?"

You nod, appreciating that he asked, even though you would never say no to that request.

"Yes," you breathe out, lifting your hips to let him pull the denim from your legs, the weight of it hitting the floor with a dull thud. His lips are back on you in an instant, teasing your hipbones.

You arch into him, soft whimpers leaving your throat with every brush of his mouth. Your hands bury themselves further into his hair, needing to anchor yourself somehow, needing to hold onto something in case you float up to heaven. That's how good his lips feel on your sensitive skin.

Jungkook kisses lower, slower, until he's kneeling at the edge of the bed between your legs. He looks up at you one last time, his hand stroking up your thigh, a silent question in his eyes.

You nod, your voice breaking as you whisper a soft, "Please, baby."

And then he removes your panties and places them with the rest of your clothing on his bedroom floor, his eyes locked onto your waiting core. "You're so beautiful, ___," he sighs, his voice taking on a blissful, almost dreamy tone.

He leans in, placing a feathery light kiss to your mound, his breath brushing against your skin.

The first drag of his tongue through your folds is enough to make your back arch off the bed, an airy moan spilling from your lips. He is devastatingly slow, deliberate, like he has all the time in the world, like your pleasure is the only thing that has ever mattered to him.

He slowly licks up and down between your folds, collecting your essence on his tongue, his hands softly squeezing your thighs.

"You taste amazing," he breathes, pulling back so he can look up at you, his gaze meeting yours, his tongue trailing over his lips before diving back in.

He licks from your slit up to your clit, your eyes fluttering shut, your fingers gripping his hair.

You've never had a man know your body the way he does. He knows you inside and out, and the thought is enough to make you clench around nothing.

"Fuck, baby," you moan breathlessly as he focuses on your clit, swirling his tongue around it before sucking slowly, your thighs trembling in his hold.

Jungkook groans against your pussy as he feels you writhe beneath him, as he tastes the depth of your need. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you open for him as he works you with his tongue, giving your clit slow, patient strokes, never rushing, never letting up.

He pulls back only briefly to kiss your inner thigh, whispering, "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

You sob his name, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue trails lower to tease your entrance, gently pushing inside.

He smiles against your wet folds, burying his tongue deep within your velvet walls, thrusting the muscle in and out while his nose rubs against your swollen clit, devouring you with the kind of tenderness that feels like a prayer. It's passionate. It's overwhelming. It's everything you've both been aching for.

"Does that feel good?" he mumbles, his voice muffled against your pussy, looking up at you through his lashes. He trails his tongue back up to your clit, licking and sucking it with more vigour and determination to make your eyes roll back in your head.

"S-so good, Kook," you whimper, arching your back as he laps at your clit, spreading your things wider, your stomach clenching as the pleasure flows through your veins. "Just like that, baby..."

He hums against your core, the sound sending vibrations through your body. He brings two of his fingers to slide through your folds, getting it wet before slowly pushing into you, feeling how tight you are for him. It makes something within him ache, makes the fire in his veins grow hotter.

"Tell me if it's too much," he mumbles between licks, always considerate of your needs and your pleasure.

"N-no, it's...it's not too much," you mutter breathlessly, moaning as he curls his fingers inside you, the feeling twisting in your gut. "Feels...s-so good...I'm almost there," you gasp, feeling him flick his tongue a little bit faster.

He laps at your pussy like a starved man, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, wanting to bring you the pleasure only he can give you.

You cry out in pleasure as he curls his fingers at just the right angle, rubbing against your sweet spot, his tongue flicking at your clit with toe-curling precision.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!"

And when you cum on his tongue, crying out his name into the air, Jungkook holds you through it, murmuring soft words of love and praise against your pulsating core.

Your grip on his hair is almost painful, your vision going black as your orgasm washes over you. He gives your clit a few gentle licks to help you through it, slowly pulling his fingers out of your entrance, now glossy from your slick.

"Oh my God," you whisper under your breath, slowly catching your breath as he presses wet, lingering kisses to your folds, your body going completely limp against his mattress.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse from how hard he's breathing, his eyes flicking up to yours.

"I'm...amazing," you chuckle softly, watching as he crawls back up your body, hovering over you to make sure you're feeling good. You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he licks and sucks his fingers clean, your pussy clenching at the sight.

He leans in to kiss your lips, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, feeling you sigh out against his lips. He licks over your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before gently biting down and giving it a slow tug, watching it bounce back in place with a soft smile on his face.

"You're the most perfect woman," he whispers tenderly.

You look up into his eyes, feeling like it's now or never. "I love you, Kook," you murmur, gently cupping his face in your shaky hands.

He smiles and tilts his face in your hands, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. "You love me?"

You nod sincerely, smiling as you watch him rise from the bed. His hands move to the button of his pants, working it open with slow, deliberate movements, his dark gaze trained on you. There's something intense about the way he looks at you, like he's letting you see all the hunger, all the love, all the devotion he's carried for you for so long.

He pushes his pants and boxers down his hips in one fluid motion, letting them fall to the floor.

And then his hand wraps around his cock, slow and sure, stroking once, twice, his eyes burning into yours, his fist twisting at the tip.

Your breath catches in your chest. You can't move, can't look away, feeling hypnotized by the sheer beauty of him, by the tenderness that lingers behind the lust in his eyes.

He groans softly at the feeling of his palm wrapped around his cock, the sound deep and rough, his muscles flexing under the soft glow of the moonlight.

But he doesn't leave you waiting for long.

Jungkook lets go of his cock and it stands fully erect, the tip a faint red, oozing a clear pearl of precum. He lets out a shaky exhale and crawls up the bed toward you, his hands planted on either side of your head as he cages you beneath him.

Your legs part instinctively, your knees bending to cradle his hips between your legs, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes slipping shut as if the closeness alone is almost too much to bear. He presses a tender peck to your lips and lowers his hips just slightly, grinding down against you in a slow, dragging motion.

The feeling of his hard length pressing against your sensitive core makes you whimper into his mouth, your hands trailing down his toned chest and stomach, up to his shoulders, over his back, touching every inch of skin you can reach.

Jungkook takes ahold of his cock, trailing the head through your soaked folds, lightly pressing the tip against your entrance. He swallows thickly as he looks down at your body, your thighs spread wide for him, offering yourself to him.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him down into another kiss, slow and deep, tasting of second chances. You pull back, your noses brushing against one another, your breath mingling in the tiny space between you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Jungkook's hand cradles the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with devastating tenderness.

"I love you too," he breathes, pecking your lips. "I've loved you for so long."

And when he finally starts to push inside you, he does it slowly, like he's savouring every second, like he's memorizing the feeling of having you wrapped around him after so many long, torturous months.

Neither of you can stop the soft, broken moans that fall from your lips as you become one again, in every way possible.

His hand slides up the side of your thigh as he slowly sinks deeper into you, his chest tightening at how good it all feels, how right it feels to make love to you.

He presses his forehead to yours once he bottoms out, his lips hovering just above yours for a moment before he kisses you, his whole being aching with love, his hips pulling back only to thrust back inside, burying himself in you as deep as he can go.

The rhythm between you builds naturally, slow thrusts of his hips against yours, gentle kisses that grow deeper, heavier, more desperate. You cling to each other like you're afraid to let go, the emotion between you too much to hold back, too much to contain.

"Fuck," Jungkook chokes out, his voice raw. "You're...you're everything to me..."

You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, your lips moving against his so passionately you almost don't register the fresh set of tears wetting your lashes.

He rocks his hips into you in the slowest, most tender rhythm you've ever felt. Each thrust is deep and languid, every roll of his body against yours speaking more than words ever could.

"I'm sorry, baby," he breathes against your lips. "I'm sorry I let you go. I should've fought harder."

You shake your head, tears slipping down your temples into the pillow. "No, Jungkook...I'm sorry. I should've been braver. I should've-"

He kisses you again, swallowing your shaky apology. "It's okay. We're here now," he murmurs, his voice quivering. "We're here."

You nod, clinging to him tighter, your arms and legs tightening around him.

The world outside blurs into nothing. Only the slow, rhythmic joining of your bodies remains, the gasps, the whimpers, the whispered 'I love you's between desperate kisses.

He's everywhere, his mouth mapping your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, his hands roaming your sides, your thighs, your hips. Worshipping you. Reassuring himself that you're here, that you're his.

"Baby, tell me if it's too much," he mumbles, his lips softly pressing to your cheek, his cock pumping in and out of your heat at a devastating pace.

"It's perfect, baby," you moan, cupping his face in your hands, feeling him thrust deeper, faster. "Feels s-so perfect."

His muscles tremble above you, his heart pounding in his chest. "God, I'm so in love with you," he groans against your skin, his thrusts growing more intense, his body craving more of you.

He makes love to you like no one ever has before, his fingers intertwining with yours against the sheets. Your bodies fit together like you were made for one another, like you were meant to do this for the rest of your lives.

He wants you like this forever, wants to spend the rest of his life with you, exactly like this. He loves you so much that it aches, his chest full, his mind spinning.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, pushing your head back into the pillow, your walls clenching around him, your chest heaving. "I'm so close..."

"I know, baby," he mutters, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "I'm right here. I've got you, my love."

He slides one hand down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit, thrusting his hips harder, that thick, heady feeling growing in your lower belly.

"Oh my God...f-fuck, baby, I'm c-cumming..!"

When you reach the peak of your pleasure, when your legs tighten around his waist and your walls clench desperately around him, Jungkook doesn't speed up.

He stays with you.

He carries you through it.

He presses his mouth against your shoulder, murmuring soothing reassurances, feeling you tremble and sob beneath him from the intensity of your second orgasm.

And when he follows you over the edge seconds later, it's with a low, guttural groan of your name, his arms shaking with how tightly he holds onto your body. His muscles shake, his cock twitching as he coats your insides with thick, white ropes of his cum.

It's been a while since he's felt such an intense pleasure. Sex with you always feels amazing, but making love and knowing that you love him back is something that he doesn't know how he'll ever get used to.

Neither of you lets go. Even when the aftershocks fade and your breathing evens out. He stays inside you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

The snow falls quietly against the bedroom window, but inside, everything is finally still.

You're safe. You're home.

"I'm never letting you go again, ___," Jungkook whispers against your damp skin, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Never."

You nod, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

He kisses your tears off your skin and whispers sweet promises into your ear, pulling soft giggles from your lips. It's not long before his cum starts to dry between your legs, so he reluctantly pulls out of you to go and get a warm, wet rag from the bathroom. He cleans you up between your thighs, making sure to be as gentle as possible as he drags the rag through your messy folds.

Jungkook quickly goes to toss the rag back in the bathroom and crawls back in bed. He pulls the covers over the two of you without breaking contact between your bodies, wrapping you up so tightly in his arms that you can feel the steady beat of his heart against yours.

He rolls onto his back, welcoming your head on his chest. His fingers trace slow, absentminded shapes along your back, his other hand tangled with yours under the covers. Your legs are draped over his, your cheek resting just below his collarbone, where you can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest with every breath.

You both bask in the silence for a while, just breathing each other in, your hearts syncing back into rhythm. But eventually, you shift, angling your face up toward his. "Can I tell you something?"

He hums. "You can tell me anything."

You pause, your fingers toying with the edge of the blanket draped across his chest. "I recently started going to therapy."

Jungkook's brows raise. He shifts so he can see you better, gently brushing some of your hair out of your face. "You have?"

You nod. "Yeah. I started going about two weeks ago. I didn't know what else to do after everything. I felt like I was stuck in this loop of blaming myself and not letting go of what Sunghoon did, of how it ended. So…I'm trying. You know, to start fresh, I guess. Learn how to not self-destruct every time I get scared."

His eyes soften, his lips spreading into a gentle smile. He presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there for a moment. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

You let out a breathy chuckle, but your voice is quiet when you respond. "I wanted to be better. Mostly for the girl who believed she wasn't worthy of love. I owe her that much."

Jungkook kisses your cheek, your nose, your temple. "You've always been worthy. And I'm proud of you for taking care of yourself. I'll support you through it all."

Your eyes sting with a combination of emotions. You lean into him, your voice coming out smaller, softer. "I want to be someone who's capable of loving you the way you deserve."

He presses a kiss to your lips, his arms tightening around you. "You already are that person, baby. You always were. You just had to believe it."

You nod, a small, shaky exhale falling from your lips. "I do now."

There's a long pause. You feel his fingers still against your back. He shifts slightly beneath you, as if something's weighing on him.

"There's actually something I want to tell you too," he murmurs slowly, his tone sounding rather nervous. "Because I promised myself I'd never lie to you, not ever."

You tilt your head slightly, your heart giving a cautious thump. "Okay."

He takes a deep breath, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "One night...a little while ago...Taehyung dragged me to a bar. I was…not in a good place."

You nod slowly. "Okay...? Go on."

Jungkook swallows thickly, hesitating. "Hana was there. And...we, uhm...we kissed."

Your breath stills.

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly. "I was drunk. And really...really sad. She kissed me and I kissed her back. It was for, like, a second. I wanted to feel anything that wasn't…the feeling of losing you."

Your chest tightens, but you remain silent, letting him finish.

"I stopped it," he says quickly, urgently. "It got...heated for a second, and then I realized how wrong it felt. I told her I loved you, that I wasn't going to use her to forget about you because I didn't want to forget about you. I could never, I swear."

You nod slowly, absorbing it, letting it settle.

His voice cracks slightly, his nerves peeking through. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I hate that it did, but I promised myself that if I ever got you back, I'd tell you everything. I don't want to start over with anything hidden between us."

There's a long pause, the air in the room feeling tense.

And then you sigh softly, reaching up to cup his jaw in your hand. "Thank you for telling me."

He blinks, clearly not expecting that response. "You're not…mad?"

You shake your head. "I mean...I can't lie, it hurts a little, yeah...but I get it. I pushed you away. I left you with nothing. You don't owe me perfection, Jungkook. All I ask for is honesty and you gave me that. That's more than Sunghoon ever gave me. You chose me, and that's what I'm holding onto."

Relief floods his whole body, and he leans in to kiss you softly, gratefully.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "So much it makes my chest hurt sometimes."

You kiss him back, cradling his cheek in your hand. "I love you too. Thank you for choosing me. And I don't mean choosing me over Hana. I mean...thank you for choosing me...in general, just me, for who I am and all the shit I come with..."

His expression softens, gently flipping you onto your back, hovering above you, his hair falling into his eyes as he leans in.

"I'll always choose you," he whispers, kissing your cheek.

"Even on your worst days." A kiss to your jaw.

"Even when you try to push me away." A kiss just below your ear.

"Even if you eat the last slice of pizza and deny it."

You burst out laughing. "Oh, so that's your love language? Eternal devotion, but with conditions, huh?"

"I never said eternal," he scoffs, feigning seriousness. "My letters said I'd love you for at least fifty years, and then I'll reassess based on your behaviour."

Your mouth drops open in mock offense. "Fifty? That's it?"

He grins and nuzzles his face into your neck, chuckling softly against your skin. "Okay, okay. Maybe fifty-one. Maybe."

You giggle, tilting your head back as he kisses a warm trail down your throat.

"But seriously," you murmur, your eyes searching his. "Those letters…they broke me...in the best way. You wrote about things I didn't even realize you remembered. Like the cardigan I lost in the library."

"The blue one with the frayed cuff," he says instantly. "You said it felt like a hug."

Your throat tightens. "How do you remember all that?"

He kisses your nose, your cheeks, your lips. "Because I loved you for four years, baby. I memorized you."

You pull him down into another kiss, slower this time, more intentional.

You break the kiss with a soft giggle, as if realizing something. "You wrote a three-page letter about my eyes."

He groans, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hand. "I was down bad. Shush."

You're full-on laughing now, your cheeks sore from how hard you're smiling. You roll onto your side to face him, leaning up on your elbow.

"And the one where you wrote 'Sometimes I pretend to forget stuff just so you'll explain it to me and look at me all proud when I understand'?"

Jungkook grabs a pillow and covers his face completely. "Okay. That's enough. This is character assassination."

You peel the pillow away, still smiling, and cup his face. "No, baby. This is love. And I'm keeping those letters forever, so get used to the emotional blackmail."

He laughs through the embarrassment, his cheeks burning but his eyes are so full of affection and admiration. "As long as you're staying, you can blackmail me all you want."

He rolls onto his side so you're facing each other, your noses almost touching, your smiles matching, both of you curling inward like two magnets finally allowed to rest.

"I feel like I can finally breathe again," you whisper.

"Me too." He presses his lips to your temple. "And this time, I'm not letting anything get in the way."

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his heartbeat echoing against your chest.

There's still healing to do. There's still work to be done, but you'll do it together. And for now, that's more than enough.

The world is quiet outside, and for once, both your head and your heart match it.

You wake up slowly, sleep-drunk and tangled in warmth, your legs tangled lazily with Jungkook's under the warm covers. His arm is heavy across your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily behind you, and you feel the soft brush of his breath at the nape of your neck.

Neither of you talk at first. There's no need. You're both wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after a storm, the peaceful kind, the kind that says 'we made it'.

Eventually, you feel him shift slightly behind you. A soft kiss lands on your shoulder, then another.

"Still here," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing over your bare skin. "Was worried I dreamed the whole thing."

You smile to yourself, your eyes still closed. "If this is a dream, don't wake me up."

He chuckles lowly, curling in closer until his nose nuzzles behind your ear. "Don't tempt me. I'll keep you here forever."

You stretch slowly, turning in his arms until you're facing him. His hair is a mess, his eyes are puffy with sleep, and there's a tiny crease on his cheek from the pillow. He's devastatingly handsome, and yet, utterly adorable.

You're so in love. You can admit that out loud now and know that it's not scary.

"You drool a little," you whisper, brushing a finger under the corner of his mouth.

He furrows his eyebrows, his lips puffing out into the faintest pout. "I do not."

"You do," you grin.

He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so that you end up sprawled half on top of him, legs tangled and bare skin pressed to bare skin. "Fine," he sighs. "But you love me so you'll overlook it, right?"

You smile, rubbing your hand up and down along his chest. "Mm. I do."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips, kisses it softly. Then again. And again. His voice softens. "Still can't believe I get to wake up like this. With you."

Your smile melts into something softer, more vulnerable. "It feels different, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." His fingers trail along your arm, his nails lightly tickling your skin. "Like everything finally fell into place."

"It's crazy that Tae kinda made this happen. I mean, you confessed and I was a dick about it but if he didn't give me those letters, I wouldn't have known how sincere you really were."

"I owe him," he scoffs. "Remind me to thank him for completely violating my privacy and saving my entire life in the same breath."

You grin, your fingers dancing lazily over his chest. "He knew what he was doing. He always knows."

"That cheeky bastard," Jungkook murmurs affectionately. "I'll call him later. Tell him he's officially off the hook for every embarrassing story he's ever told about me on drunken nights out."

"Even the one about you bending over and your pants ripping mid-lecture?" you chuckle.

Jungkook groans. "Especially that one."

You laugh again, melting deeper into his embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the warm skin there. "So…what now?"

He hums thoughtfully, eyes fluttering shut. "We enjoy the holidays. We get snowed in together. We raise Miso and Bam together, which might be a challenge at first but they'll grow to love each other. I make you breakfast in bed every morning. Bam learns how to make coffee."

You laugh, your voice muffled against his skin. "Very realistic plan, professor."

He lifts his head just enough to kiss your temple. "Okay, but really?" He looks up at you as you pull away. "I want to take you on a date."

Your heart flutters. "A date?"

He nods. "A real one. Not just grocery shopping or late-night convenience store runs. I mean...dressed up, picked up, nervous butterflies, 'walk you to your front door and kiss you goodnight' type of date."

You pretend to think about it for a moment. "When?"

"Next Friday," he says confidently. "Dinner. Just you and me. Somewhere special. Our official first date."

You bite your bottom lip, smiling so hard it hurts. "That sounds…kinda perfect."

Jungkook grins. "Good, because I plan on wining and dining you and then making you cum so hard that you-"

You cut him off with a laugh, playfully pinching him. "Jungkook!"

"What? I'm being romantic!" he laughs, warm and hearty and carefree. "I think my girlfriend deserves both a five-star meal and a few really good orgasms in one night."

Your face burns red as you bury it in his chest. "We're not calling me your girlfriend yet," you mumble, slowly looking up at his face.

He leans in, his mouth ghosting over yours. "Says who?"

You blink up at him, lips brushing, breath mingling. "Says me. Just for now, until after the first date."

He grins wickedly. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure it's the best first date of your life."

You kiss him again, slowly, sensually, your tongue licking into his parted lips. He tastes good in the morning. He's not as minty fresh as he normally is, but it's that 'I like kissing you even if you didn't brush your teeth yet because I'm so utterly in love with you' type of taste.

Your lips don't part as you swing a leg over his hips, straddling him, your hands on either side of his head on the pillow. The room is chilly but the look in his eyes and the feeling of his semi-hard cock nestled between your legs warms you from the inside out.

You sit up straight, revealing your bare breasts to him, your messy hair falling down your shoulders and back.

His hands rest at your hips, touching your skin with tenderness and reverence, looking at you like he's seeing the sun rise for the first time.

"You're stunning," he whispers, almost like he still can't believe he gets to have you like this. "You look like an angel."

You feel heat bloom across your cheeks. "An angel?" you tease, raising your eyebrows at the comparison.

He nods, his jaw clenched, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hips. "The kind that...ruins men..."

You let out a breathless laugh, your head tilting back, exposing more of your neck to him. Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, large and warm and steady, until they cup your breasts with delicate care.

"They're so perfect," he sighs, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden to stiff peaks.

You smile as he sits up just slightly, leaning back on his hands as he presses open-mouthed kisses over the soft curve of one breast, then the other. His mouth is warm and tender and adoring, and it makes you arch into him without even thinking.

He groans softly, one hand splaying over your back, drawing you even closer. "How do you expect me to survive this?"

You wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes hazy. "You're doing just fine, baby."

His mouth is greedy as it worships your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples in all the ways he knows you like, his chest tight and his breathing deep as he feels his cock grow harder between your legs.

He finally pulls away and slowly lifts his head to press soft kisses up your neck, his voice deep and rough when he speaks.

"Best tits in the world," he mutters, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You chuckle softly, gently tugging on his soft strands of hair, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "Best in the whole world?" you tease, your nipples glistening with his saliva.

"Mhm," he smiles, leaning back against the headboard, his fingers pinching your nipples, his tongue running along his bottom lip. "Gorgeous."

"You're gorgeous," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his. "You don't even realize how gorgeous you are, Kook," you whisper, trailing soft kisses down to his neck.

He lets out a quiet, breathy little laugh, his eyes half closed as he feels your lips on his skin.

"You're ridiculous," he grins, his hands slipping under the covers to cup your ass.

"I'm serious, Jungkook," you murmur softly, kissing over his cheeks, the little mole under his mouth, the tip of his nose and each eyelid.

"I could spend hours writing love letters about how beautiful a man you are," you whisper against his skin, pouring all of your love and affection into your kisses.

He smiles lazily, his hand giving your asscheek a firm little tap. "Are you making fun of me for my love letters?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, your lips trailing down his jaw, your hips sensually grinding down on him. His cock slots perfectly between your pussy lips, feeling thick and ready.

"They were sweet. Made me cry a few times. I might write you some of my own someday."

His stomach clenches, inhaling sharply through his nose, his brows furrowing at the feeling of your wet heat gliding along his cock, your clit brushing against the head with every tantalising drag of your hips. The friction feels delicious, your bare skin soft and warm against his.

"Yeah?"

You nod, slowly reaching between your legs to align his tip with your entrance. "Yeah...later. Wanna make love first."

His eyes shine with excitement, his hips aching to lift up into you. "Fuck. Please."

You slowly sink down on him, your warm inner walls enveloping him whole. You both moan when you reach the base of his length, his fingers digging into your hips as you take a quick moment to adjust.

"Feel good?" you breathe, watching his eyes roll back in his head.

"Fuuuck," he groans, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his head dropping back against the headboard, his nails digging into your skin.

"Move, baby...please. I need you to move," he mutters through gritted teeth.

You roll your hips in a fluid motion, riding him nice and slow, just how he likes it in the morning.

"Fuck, you feel good," you moan, working up a steady pace, resting your hands at the back of his neck.

He lets out a sharp, shaky moan, his lips parting in ecstasy.

"Y-yeah, just like that," he breathes, his hands sliding up your back to your neck, pulling you towards him. "Kiss me, baby."

You lean in to kiss him, sliding your tongue into his mouth, tasting the man you love. You moan into his mouth as you ride him faster, your walls fluttering around his shaft, squeezing him like a vice.

"Turn around for me...get on your hands and knees..." he mutters into the kiss, his voice thick with arousal, his strong hands gripping your hips to slow them down.

A jolt of excitement shoots through you, obeying without a second thought.

You do as he says and get on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air.

"Like that?" you tease, looking over you shoulder as you shake your ass for him, knowing how much he loves to see it jiggle.

He lets out a soft groan, his eyes running over your ass, his hand pumping his wet cock, your slick coating his skin.

"Yes, just like that, my love," he scoffs, his hands running over your ass, gently squeezing, his gaze growing even darker. He sits up on his knees behind you so he can get himself aligned with your dripping entrance, his hands trained firmly on your ass as he thrusts into you from behind.

You press your face into the mattress as he fucks into you from the back, your hands gripping the sheets.

You moan desperately, feeling him so much deeper like this, your eyes rolling back in your head as he hits that sweet spot over and over again.

"Ohhh f-fuck, baby," you whimper, your toes curling, your head feeling fuzzy, feeling his presence surround you.

He looks down at your ass, watching the fatty flesh shake with every thrust of his hips, the little puckered rim winking at him, making his cock twitch.

"Goddamn, baby," he groans, landing a hard smack to your right asscheek, leaving a red handprint. "So fucking sexy."

He leans forward and drapes himself over your back, one arm wrapped around your waist as he hovers his mouth next to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his voice deep and husky in your ear.

"Tell me you love me," he mutters roughly, thrusting harder, his pelvis slapping against your ass.

You can barely focus on anything other than the pleasure he's giving you, your body feeling like it's on fire.

"I...I love you, J-Jungkook," you moan pathetically, sounding desperate and needy for him.

"Say it again..." he mutters, his lips pressed to your neck, his thrusts growing rougher.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you whine, feeling him thrust faster, deeper, harder. "I love you, baby..."

"That's my good girl. I love you so much," he whispers, his free hand sliding up your spine and grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck, his lips soft against your skin, feeling your pussy pulse around him.

"Yes...yes, baby...!" you moan, your voice growing breathless as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping skin bouncing off of the walls of his bedroom.

His pace gets a little messy, a little sloppy, and you start to feel your high rapidly approaching. He's very rarely rough like this, and when he is, it does magically things to your body. The passion overtakes both of you, getting lost in the sensation of his thick cock drilling into you.

"Oh my god, baby...l'm gonna cum s-so hard," you gasp, gripping the sheets as the pressure builds in your lower stomach, threatening to unravel.

"That's it, baby," he mutters breathlessly. "Cum for me, ___," he growls, pulling your hair harder for him to bring his lips down to the side of your neck, sucking and nipping at your flesh.

Your body tenses up as the coil within you unravels, letting out an airy whine, your muscles trembling underneath him.

He quickly pulls out of your throbbing pussy, giving his cock a few quick tugs before cumming all over your ass, his stomach muscles flexing and relaxing repeatedly, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed tightly shut. His moans sound like something out of a porno as he paints your skin with his release.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks down at his masterpiece with a proud grin before plopping down next to you on the mattress, both of you panting as you catch your breath, your bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

He turns to you and wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, grinning innocently. "Have I mentioned I love you?"

"Once or twice, yeah," you chuckle weakly, slowly coming back down to earth. You lay flat on your stomach, the side of your face smooshed against the bed.

You feel his hand trail from your waist to your ass, lazily rubbing his cum into your skin.

"Kook, what are you doing?"

"I'm just rubbing it in. It's like lotion," he murmurs, gently squeezing your ass cheek in his hand.

"It's good for your skin..." he adds with a grin, his eyes sparkling with that playful, mischievous glimmer they get when he's in the mood to tease you.

"Good for my skin?" you laugh, leaning up on your elbows. "You're an idiot."

He grins, letting out a breathy little laugh, leaning in to place a couple of soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder.

"Just let me rub it in for you," he repeats softly, continuing to massage his cum into the skin of your ass.

Eventually, you manage to peel yourselves out of bed. Jungkook groans in protest, but you tug on his hand and lead him into the bathroom with a teasing, "Come on, loverboy. We smell like sex and I have your cum all over me."

The bathroom is cold, the tiles cool beneath your feet. You turn on the shower and step inside together, the steam quickly wrapping around you both like a comforting hug.

It's not rushed. It's not even particularly sexy. It's intimate and raw and unfiltered.

He lathers shampoo into your hair, careful and slow, his fingers massaging your scalp until you're practically melting under his touch. You rinse off, giggling when the water drips down your face, and you help him wash his hair in return, watching the suds slide over his firm muscles.

He kisses your shoulder when you reach for the body wash, and you return the favor when he turns to rinse, your lips pressing over the back of his neck, over the curve of his spine. Neither of you say much. You don't need to.

Once you're clean and warm and thoroughly pruned, he hands you a towel and wraps one around his waist. You smile at his damp hair sticking up in all directions, and he playfully shakes his head to flick water at you in return.

The two of you move through a shared routine like it's the most natural thing in the world. You brush your teeth side by side at the sink, giggling like teenagers. Jungkook leans over and kisses your foamy mouth mid-brush, just to make you squeal and shove him away.

When you rinse your mouth and reach for the hairbrush, he kisses your cheek and disappears into the bedroom to get something to wear.

You stand at the mirror, brushing out your damp hair and massaging moisturizer into your face, while the distant sound of kitchen cabinets opening and Bam's excited barking fills the house.

He talks to Bam like a child, "Yes, I know it's breakfast time. You've mentioned it seventeen times in thirty seconds," and the clatter of dog food into the bowl is oddly comforting.

You smile to yourself, your eyes trained on your reflection. Your skin is glowing. Your lips are kiss-swollen. Your heart feels full.

There's something so deeply romantic about all of this. Not just the physical intimacy, not just the sex, but the normalcy of it. The routine. The quiet. The way the spare toothbrush, which now belongs to you, sits beside his, the sound of his voice floating in from the kitchen, the coffee starting to brew.

This is what you've always wanted. Not grand declarations or cinematic gestures. Just this. The everyday softness of being loved.

The smell hits you first, something buttery and warm and just a little sweet wafting from the kitchen, curling into the hallway like a ribbon. You step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, your hair still slightly damp.

The house is quiet except for the low hum of Jungkook's Bluetooth speaker playing in the kitchen and the sound of Bam's paws clicking excitedly on the hardwood floor.

You put on the oversized sweater you find in Jungkook's closet. It hangs off your frame ridiculously, the sleeves almost swallowing your hands completely, but it's so warm and soft and it smells like him. You pair it with a clean pair of his boxers because your panties are still ruined after last night. It's a look that definitely says 'I'm someone's girl now', and you smile at the thought as you pad barefoot down the hallway.

"Bam," you call gently, and the Doberman immediately runs over to you, his tail wagging like crazy. He nuzzles his head against your thighs, and you scratch behind his ears with a soft laugh.

"Good morning to you too, handsome."

"He's only been asking where you are for the past ten minutes," Jungkook jokes from his spot at the stove.

He looks like the picture of domesticity in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, his bicep flexing subtly each time he flips something in the pan.

You hop up onto the counter, legs swinging as you watch him.

"What's on the menu this morning, Chef?"

"Pancakes," he smiles down at the pan. "With syrup and strawberries. Also eggs and bacon. You know, for balance."

You hum in approval. "Look at you. A man of muscles and meal prep."

He chuckles and leans in to peck your lips before dumping the pancakes into a plate, moving onto the eggs.

Bam, with his tail wagging excitedly, walks over and sits before you like a good dog, clearly hoping for a piece of bacon to fall from the heavens.

You reach over to the plate already filled with fried bacon and carefully peel off an extra crispy piece, holding it out to Bam with a playful whisper.

"Don't tell your dad."

Bam gently takes it from your hand, his tail thumping against the floor as he enjoys his little treat.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised. "Are you corrupting my son?"

"He said he was hungry," you shrug innocently, popping the last bite of the bacon into your mouth. "Plus, he used his puppy dog eyes on me."

Jungkook snorts, scrambling the eggs and adding salt and pepper. "Must have learnt that trick from you."

You hop off the counter while he plates the food, and the two of you sit down to eat, knees brushing beneath the kitchen table. For a moment, you both just eat silently, occasionally glancing at each other with small, almost shy smiles.

It's blissful.

Quiet, but not awkward. Comfortable, not rushed.

Jungkook wipes a bit of sweet syrup from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, quickly popping it into his mouth. "You're really staying calm about this whole thing. The old ___ would have laughed in my face if I made love to her and then cooked her breakfast afterwards."

You chuckle, picking a strawberry off of his plate and taking a bite. "What can I say? I've matured."

"Mmm. And the therapy." He nods, resting his elbow on the table with his chin in the palm of his hand. "You're emotionally stable now, huh?"

You chuckle. "Mostly."

He leans in and kisses your cheek. "I like you in every version."

You set your fork down in your plate, letting a moment of silence pass before you speak again, more softly this time. "So…you're really okay after everything that happened?"

Jungkook meets your gaze, thinking it over.

"I'm not okay with the fact that you were hurt like that to make you cope the way you did," he sighs. "But I am okay that we took the time we needed. And I'm okay because you're here now."

You look down, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "It still kinda scares me. How easily I shut down. How quickly I let that fear control me."

"Hey." He nudges your foot under the table. "You're working on it. That's all anyone can ask. And now, when that happens again, which it might because healing isn't linear, I'll be right there. I won't let you carry it alone."

Your eyes sting a little, but not with sadness. Just...relief.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For loving me even when it was difficult."

Jungkook leans across the table and takes your hand in his, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

"I never stopped," he murmurs softly. "Even when I thought I should have. You were still it for me."

Then, just to lighten the air a little, you tease, "Well...you did almost let Hana become your coping mechanism."

He groans and drops his head to rest his forehead against the table. "Baby, please, don't remind me."

"But you kissed her," you shrug teasingly.

"It was barely a kiss," he scoffs, sitting up straight.

You raise an eyebrow. "You said it got heated."

"I was vulnerable! She ambushed me by the back alley of the bar like some deranged rom-com villain."

You try to keep a straight face. "That sounds romantic. What stopped you? The smell of garbage coming from the bins?"

He glares at you but there is zero heat in his eyes. "You, obviously. I kept seeing your face in my head and realized she could never be you. Not even close."

That shuts you up for a second.

Your playful grin fades into something softer, your eyes dipping down to your plate before finding his again. "Good...because I don't think I could've handled seeing you move on like that. Even if I told myself it was for the best."

Jungkook leans in closer, resting his elbows on the table, his voice low. "I didn't want to move on. That was the point. I was drunk and lonely and stupid, but I wasn't trying to forget you. I just wanted to stop hurting."

You nod slowly, his words hitting you in the chest. "Yeah. I get that."

He reaches for your hand again, threading his fingers through yours. "But I'd rather hurt with you than pretend I'm okay without you."

You let out a shaky exhale, giving his hand a squeeze. "You won't have to do either anymore."

His smile is soft and crooked and so full of affection. "Promise?"

You nod, pulling him closer by the back of his neck with your free hand, your nose brushing against his. "I promise," you whisper, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss.

You kiss him once. Then again. Then again, this time with a lazy little sigh against his mouth.

"I thought we were finishing breakfast," Jungkook mumbles between kisses, his lips curving into a smile.

"We are," you whisper, tugging him closer by the back of his neck. "I just needed a little dessert first."

He groans into your mouth, grinning like a lovesick fool when he finally pulls back. "You're evil."

You both finish the last of your breakfast, soaking in the winter sun that shines in through the frosted kitchen windows.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, at least temporarily, and reality sets in when you glance at the clock on the wall, letting out a sigh.

"I should probably get going."

Jungkook blinks, like the words take a second to register. "Already?"

You nod, offering him an apologetic smile. "Yeah. I need to go check on Miso. I don't want her thinking I abandoned her for a man."

He grins. "Right. She's the jealous type, huh?"

"Very," you scoff, knowing your furry baby is probably plotting her revenge for not getting her breakfast yet.

"Can I borrow some sweats? My jeans are in the laundry hamper."

"Of course," he smiles. "Check in the bottom drawer."

You make your way to his bedroom, wearing his oversized sweater and a flush on your cheeks. You tug open the bottom drawer of his dresser and grab a pair of grey sweatpants, one that's extra soft and worn-in.

When you turn around, he's there, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching you with the softest smile.

"You wanna watch me change?" you tease, your eyebrow raised.

His lips twitch. "Just admiring my girl."

You roll your eyes and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at being called his girl as you slip into the sweatpants. They're big on you. You cuff the ankles and tie the drawstring tight to keep them from slipping, and still, you look like you're drowning in him.

"You wear my clothes way too well," he mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a grin as you put your shoes on and walk past him, brushing your shoulder against his arm on your way to the front door. "Don't compliment me too much, I won't wanna leave," you chuckle.

"Then don't," he scoffs under his breath as he follows you down the hall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants. As you reach for the doorknob, you feel it, his fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you back just before you can open it.

His voice is soft, his eyes even softer. "Wait."

Your chest tightens. "Yeah?"

"I just…" He moves closer. "Can we pause time? Just for a second? I'm not ready to let you go yet."

Your heart squeezes. "I'm coming back, baby. I'll see you on Friday."

"I know. But that's so far from now."

You smile up at him, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You gonna miss me?"

"I already do," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

It starts soft, just a brush of lips, a promise in the making. But it lingers. One kiss turns into another, his hands cupping your face, his nose nudging yours as his teeth tug at your bottom lip, his tongue moving against yours in a languid rhythm.

When you finally part, breathless and smiling, he presses his forehead to yours.

"Friday night," he reminds you. "I'm picking you up. Real date. No takeout or Netflix."

You grin. "I'll wear something nice."

"You always do." He brushes his lips against your cheek, trailing his hands down to grab ahold of yours, your fingers intertwining. "Even when it's my clothes that are far too big."

You shake your head, giggling softly, before you lean in to press one last kiss to his lips. "I love you, Jeon Jungkook."

"I love you more," he whispers, reluctantly letting go of your hands and stepping back to open the door for you. "Drive safe, okay? Text me when you get home. And tell Miso I said hi."

You roll your eyes with a fond smile. "She probably won't care."

"Tell her anyway."

You take one last look at him before stepping outside, snowflakes gently floating in the air around you. He stands in the doorway, bare-chested and soft-eyed, completely smitten.

You don't even mind the cold air or the snowflakes brushing along your cheeks. His clothes are warm, but it's his affection that burns fiercely beneath your skin. And as you leave, with rosy cheeks and a racing heart, snowflakes catching in your hair and melting on your lashes, you realize something simple and sure:

This is how love begins again. Not with loud fireworks and a spectacle, but with the quiet certainty of someone waiting at the door for your return. With borrowed sweatpants and soft goodbyes, with the warmth of a kiss that lingers longer than it should, and the promise of a date that already feels like forever. It begins in the hush of winter air, in the way your heart aches less now, and in the way his love doesn't ask for anything but your presence.

As you drive away with snow settling on your windshield and his scent still clinging to your skin, you know this is the start of something worth staying for.

PART 7 || PART 9

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